(Chase)
The room is quiet except for the beeping of the machine beside me. I’ve been in this hospital bed for a day now, and it still feels strange. I’m used to the sound of skates cutting ice, the energy of a crowd, the smack of a puck against the boards. Now all I hear is that damn beeping and the occasional nurse walking in.
My leg is done. That’s what the doctor said. Not in those words, but I know what he meant. The injury is bad enough that hockey isn’t an option anymore. Not next season, not ever.
It hasn’t sunk in all the way. Part of me keeps waiting to wake up and realize it was a bad dream. But the pain is real. The crutches leaning against the wall are real. And the looks on my parents’ faces and Madison's when I called them, yeah, that was real too.
I think back to the sem
