Page 83 of Cheap Shot
My fault. My fault. My fault.
The skin on my wrist burns as I pinch the flesh tightly between my fingers, the pain coursing through me like retribution for my selfish actions. How, once again, my desires have brought pain to someone else I care about.
“I used to drink my way out of those situations, but I was determined to stay sober. The numbness I craved from the alcohol was gone, leaving me downright irate when I walked into the arena that night.”
My fault. My fault. My fault.
My nails dig deeper into my skin, needing to make sure I continue to pay for what I’ve done because I let them down. That team became my family when I turned my back on my own. They became my brothers, the people I could depend on, because I didn’t have anyone else. I felt so betrayed by how they turned their backs on me, the whispers in the locker room about wishing I were one of my brothers, but deep down, I knew they were right. If I were more like them, none of those things would’ve happened. I wouldn’t need tiny red pills to function like a normal human being.
“Everyone on the team knew to steer clear of me when I was in one of my moods, but that night, Leon was also itching for a fight. At first, it was just the usual chirping out on the ice, but he wouldn’t let up. I warned him to lay off, that I was in no mood for his bullshit. I don’t even remember what he said anymore, but I just snapped.”
I need them. I want them. I need them. I want them.
“You didn’t just snap. You broke two of his ribs, his nose, and gave him a concussion,” Coach responds, but I don’t look up at him because I don’t want to see the look of disappointment in his eyes.
That night, after everything was said and done, one of my teammates called to ask if I needed something to take the edge off. At first, I declined, wanting to remain clear-minded, but that didn’t last long. He promised that if I took one of those tiny red pills, it'd leave me feeling free of all emotions in a way I’d never felt before, and he was right.
Ever since that night, I’ve been taking them religiously. Some days, I need more pills than others, especially when my stress levels are high, but they always chase away the pain. They keep the anger and regret locked tightly in the cage buried deep inside me. But the only thing they can’t do is make me forget I cost my team everything that day.
I need them. I want them. I need them. I want them.
A part of me wants to pop a few more pills and allow the numbness to take over, but a larger part of me knows I deserve this. The pain and regret for costing my team everything. For potentially doing something like that again, for ratting Jensen out to Coach. What he said was wrong, but I know better. Chirping happens. It's a part of playing hockey, but my selfish ass wanted to be the knight in shining armor. The person to defend her honor and let everyone know she was off limits, but all I did was make things worse for her and the team.
“Is that what happened with Jensen today? Did you just snap?” Coach questions, causing my head to snap up and look up at him.
I blink back tears as I try to calm the anger raging inside me, threatening to explode. I want to rage against him for even insinuating that this was the same thing. When I beat the crap out of Leon, I was out of control, but this time was different. Jensen deserved the beating he got after what he said about Michele. I want to tell him that no one will ever speak about her in that way, not with me around to protect her, but I do nothing but continue to pinch at the raw skin of my wrist.
“No, I didn’t just snap. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I would do it again if given the chance. If you expect me to apologize, don’t hold your breath.”
“There’s no need to apologize to anyone because Jensen is no longer a member of this team. He’s been dismissed and won’t be able to even get a job selling tickets to a game if I have anything to say about it.”
“Good,” I respond, my eyes never leaving Coach’s face as he chuckles softly. “Did you expect me to say something else? You already told me I didn’t have to apologize for beating the shit out of him, so I won’t. Are we done with today’s question-and-answer session?” I push to my feet and turn to leave, but Coach has other plans.
“Sit your fucking ass down. You haven’t been dismissed.” He points at the seat in front of him, leaving no room for argument.
“Dismissed? What is this, the military?” I drop back into my seat, quickly losing my patience.
“As far as you are concerned, yes, it is.” Coach rests his elbows on the end of his desk, staring at me pensively before speaking. “Given you and your brothers’…history, why did you come here?”
“History? That’s a nice way to put it,” I scoff. “Because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. With the injury to my shoulder, no one, including my team, wanted to take a chance that I wouldn’t be back in shape in time for the season.”
“What you did on the ice today goes a long way with me. I don’t stand for my players disrespecting anyone when out on the ice, whether it be a team employee or another player. We are all a team here. A team is only as strong as its weakest link. And you are our weakest link, Cole Hendrix.” Coach reaches for a folder sitting on the edge of his desk and slides it toward me.
My heart rate picks up as I reach for it, already having a feeling of what I’m going to find. I open the folder and focus on the results of my most recent anti-doping test. I knew the results would be in soon, but I didn’t think that it’d be a problem.
“You tested positive for opioids and secobarbital.”
“You already knew that was going to happen, Coach. I have a valid and current prescription from my doctor for both because of my surgery.”
Sweat starts pebbling at my hairline as I try to think of a way out of this situation. I have a perfectly valid prescription for the Dilaudid tablets I’ve been taking for pain due to my surgery, but I can’t say I’ve been taking them specifically for pain anymore.
Pinch. Pinch. Twist. Pinch. Pinch, Twist.
Before I made it back to Boise a few weeks ago to get a few months’ supply, I needed something to take the edge off, and the pain pills did the job just fine. However, if Coach or anyone looks deep enough into my test, they’ll know that the specific chemical compounds of the drugs showing up on my test do not match my prescriptions.
“That’s true, but you shouldn’t have those amounts or that specific secobarbital in your system. It isn’t what was prescribed by your doctor.”
When I was in Boise, the training staff was more than happy to look the other way as long as I wasn’t causing problems. I’ve had a prescription for standard Valium from the team doctor, but they weren't cutting it, which is evidenced from the fact that I beat my teammate to a pulp for basically looking at me wrong, so the red devils are the only thing that helps.
