Penalty Kill

Harper

I stare, and the monkey stares back.

We've been gazing at one another mercilessly ever since we laid eyes on each other in the hospital gift shop. It's got brown fur with big black eyes, its face stitched into a pained expression while wearing a half frown. Faux bandages are wrapped around part of its head, on one leg and one arm. A little shirt dons its chest with the words "Hang in there" embroidered across it in big block letters.

This little stuffed monkey is the only thing keeping me from absolutely losing my fucking shit. I insisted that Felicia leave me here—having her around might've been a good distraction, but all I want is to be alone. For better or for worse. She got the name of the hospital Jake was being taken to from one of the Storm trainers while I hyperventilated uselessly behind her.

No matter how intensely I bore my eyes into the inanimate injured monkey's permanently half-sad face, my mind refuses to stop replaying the horrific scene that unfolded on the ice. There I was, living out my own personal high after doing my damnedest to lift Jake up after the brutal barrage of boos from the home crowd. It's okay to be frustrated with your team, but the guys out there playing are fucking human.

If I could've picked a fistfight with every loudmouthed asshole in the arena and not started a riotous brawl, I would've. Being there for Jake was all I truly cared about, and while I couldn't spend as much time with him as I would've liked, I got to hold him and see him smile before he had to face the home crowd firing squad again. That had to do until I could see him after the game.

When the third period started, I kept my eyes glued onto the penalty box. From where I was sitting, I could see his knee bouncing up and down, his eyes following the puck unblinkingly, his focus razor-sharp like his life depended on it. I watched as he stood at the door, body braced and ready to hit the ice at breakneck speed to get into position.

I remember seeing him fly across the ice, his body a blur as he skated harder and faster than I'd ever seen before. And then I remember seeing the defender from the other team zeroing in on him in his blind spot—right behind him. My legs shot me up and out of my seat, and I uselessly yelled his name as loud as I could in a feeble attempt to get him to turn around, to see the person barreling at him at top speed so he could make some sort of attempt to brace himself.

Jake's name died on my lips as I watched his body get absolutely demolished against the boards by the opposing defender who flew in at full speed. He crumpled to the ice in slow motion, his eyes wide open as his limp body fell backwards in an unbraced free fall. My hands flew to my mouth to cover an audible gasp, my eyes locked onto Jake's motionless body in pure horror.

My ears started to ring against the sudden hushed silence of the arena. I was vaguely aware of Felicia's hands gripping my arm tightly, her trembling only adding to my own. All hell broke loose on the ice as Storm players descend on the absolute fucking piece of shit who just landed the nastiest cheapshot on Jake.

It was a hit job, pure and simple. While the refs attempted to sort out the fighting, trainers from both teams kneeled around Jake's nausea-inducing unmoving body, his arms frozen in a way that made me want to scream and cry. As one of the professionals that was kneeling down by Jake's head looked over his shoulder and signaled for someone to come onto the ice, my heart squeezed painfully in my chest before dropping into my stomach. I nearly fainted at the sight of it.

The stretcher comes out, and it takes what feels like an eternity to get him loaded and secured. I couldn't see anything from where I was, the crowd of people surrounding him blocking any view of his body. As the trainers and EMTs finally start to stand up and wheel him off the ice, the arena erupts into applause as Jake raises his hand and offers a small wave and thumbs up.