𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝//𝐦. 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

2//blackout

Mischa's P.O.V

...

I don't even know what I did to her that made her dislike me. As far as I remember, she wasn't any of the girls I slept with and didn't talk to after. I think. Those girls were the ones that tended to dislike me. I might have a problem, actually. One of these days, I just know it'll kick me in the ass.

I got home, immediately set down my backpack, and slumped on the couch with my food.

Not even two minutes in, my skates were thrown at me, narrowly avoiding a bad bruising on my arm.

"Get up. We're going to the rink," Jared looked down at me.

"I am still sore. I went last night."

Jared shrugged. "I really don't care. Get up."

"I do not wish to."

He chuckled dangerously. "You should be grateful that we didn't send you back to that god-awful country. You can show me that by getting off your ass and training at the rink."

I groaned, standing up. It's the same routine every time. I say I'm tired and don't want to practice, and Jared tells me that I should consider myself lucky that I wasn't sent back to Ukraine. I wish I was sent back.

It wasn't that I hated hockey, it's just that Jared worked me so hard that it made it unenjoyable. Every little practice session we had usually resulted in large bruises, a bloody nose, or blistered hands and feet. No matter how much I wanted to take a break, he never allowed me to. I had the choice to not try, but Jared actually expected something of me. I wasn't used to being held to high expectations, and it felt kinda nice to have great things expected of me, no matter how much physical or mental pain it would put me through.

...

I had a hockey game on Saturday. I didn't have to get up as early as I sometimes have to, given that it was a home game. At precisely five in the morning, Jared barged into my room, flicking on the light. I groaned as I sat up.

"You have a game in four hours. I need you up and ready if you're planning on winning against Athabasca High."

I nodded and mumbled incoherently as I fumbled around for my shirt. After getting dressed, I headed to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Right after, I stepped into the shower. The hot water running over my muscles, aching and sore from last night, felt so nice that I just stood there for a few minutes, just reveling in the feel. I'm thankful for hot water. It's probably the second-best thing to feel ever.

Maybe ten minutes later, I turned off the water and dried off. I got dressed, and then started to dry my hair. Soon enough, a knock at the door.

"Hurry up, pretty boy! We're leaving!"

I turned off the hairdryer, lugging my hockey back out to the car with my still-damp hair.

...

After the hour drive it took to get to the other team's rink, our team got ready in the locker rooms. After putting on all our gear, Jared pulled me aside.

"Lose this game, and you're sleeping in the attic for a week."

I knitted my brow in protest. "But-!"

"Two weeks," Jared glared at me.

"Yes, sir," I mumbled as I trudged onto the ice. I stopped in my tracks.

"Oh, what the hell?" I grumbled.

One of my teammates, Frances, looked up at me. "You good?"

"It is that psycho bitch again. She is stalking me."

"Oh, Y/n? She's pretty."

"I know," I glared at her, and then paused. "I actually do not know. Never mind. I do not like her."

Frances raised an eyebrow and looked away once the announcer's voice rang out across the rink.

"Please rise as Y/n L/n sings 'O Canada' to begin the game!"

I hated hearing her sing. She wasn't bad, though. She was talented by all means. I just think she tries too hard to be the best and it annoys me. The audience erupted into applause, but I kept my arms stiff at my side. Not only did I do it to spite her, I just don't have enough respect for this godforsaken country.

...

We easily pulled ahead during the first period. In fact, I scored most of the points. For a moment, I glanced up at the bleachers to see Jared cheering. He looked proud. All the more reason to win this game.

Second period was more difficult. Athabasca's team had adjusted their strategy and finally started catching up to us. It didn't help that their team was full of poor sports, jeering at us and making fun at us while still on the ice.

Finally, I got the puck back, skating furiously towards our goal. Just as I was about to score, an Athabasca player darted out in front of me, resulting in a collision. I believe that's the last thing I remembered before the high-pitched ringing started and I blacked out.