𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 • 𝗔. 𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗞𝗦

𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝐸𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇

[n a r r a t o r]

We all expect an end. Like the end of a movie or the end of a book. We expect our lives to end the same but continue differently, but what if there isn't an end? What if it's just a continuous nothing? Just a cycle going on and on until we finally finish off the last sentence of our last chapter.

Or once we run out of breath in this race of life. Or once we finally lose in the game society has pawned us to be in.

We expect ourselves to have a meaning a purpose in this reality. But really our main purpose is just to be here. It doesn't really matter what we do or how we do it. It still happens. But it doesn't give you the thing you're looking for, a meaning. A reason. Everyday Julie Gaffney would stand in front of her mirror, naming each and every reason for her to live. And every day she managed to find at least one.

But she has lost those reasons, as each one of them had started to fade. And the people she loved started to leave. She'd always ask herself, 'why do you get to leave? While I'm fighting to stay?'

That was a constant question going through her brain. And the only question that went through her mind as she sat in the bench. Watching as her teammates go dominated and shoved to the ground.

After the first period she had made up more reasons of why she didn't need to be here then to stay. Little did she know Luis Mendoza was doing the exact same thing.

—"Come on Russ!" Julie shouts from the sidelines cheering for the boy. Alexis watches nervously from her spot next to Guy. Watching as he finally got a hold of the puck.

"Watch out boy. It's knucklepuck time." But before he could shoot. One of the Iceland players had gone under and took it away from him. His torso slid against the ice with a slam.

He winced feebly as he got up. "Aw, man. I messed up." He shakes his head disappointedly.

—"Iceland throwing everything they have at U.S.A." And another goes in. And another falls down. And another blare is heard from the speakers.

Everything was already tumbling for team U.S.A. And they'd barely gotten started.

"We can't make it. Icelands bigger stronger, faster. They got facial hair." Julie just shrugs the red-headed boy off. Shifting her gaze back towards the rink. "Respectfully and kindly Averman. Shut up."

"Yes ma'am." He nods sternly. Flashing a weak smile to prevent his quivering state to display any further. "Banks you're on." Bombay shouts, patting the boys shoulder as an indication.

"Hey, be careful out there." Alexis' voice gentle. Adam can't help the smug smile that lifts his cheek into a ducked taped grin. "I will." He replies with a snide snicker.

"Hey, ref, why don't you call something? He almost took his arm off!" Coach shouts. The team agreeing with him, and boy did they make sure every one in that stadium knew it.

"That'll be two minutes." The ref pushes Sanderson into the penalty box. The blonde doesn't go quietly, instead he just laughs at team U.S.A. "Two minutes well worth it."

"Get in the box, you big goon." Ken shouts as he closes the door to the box. Flapping his helmet closed.

Adam takes his seat next to Alexis. A worried expression clear on the brunettes face. Her palm weary as she takes his wrist into her hands. Gently lifting it up into her eye view. "I'm fine. Really. They just hit the pad." He reassures. With a smirk.

Adam found it cute when Alexis was concerned. Especially when it's referred to him. He liked the way she'd scrunch her nose and the way her mouth would slightly gape as she focused on the injury. Adam Banks wasn't even focused on the pain that had quickly subsided once Alexis Stansson took ahold of him.

"What?" The girl asks softly. "You're cute." The Stansson girl just scoffs. Hitting his arm playfully. "You're an idiot."

—"Way to hang in there, Adam. Great playing." Coach praises, making his way over to Ms. Mackay and Charlie.

—"team U.S.A. Up to centre ice. Moreau to the blue line of Iceland. Drops it back to Mendoza. Ducks under a check. Dwayne Robertson with it now for Team U.S.A. He's got great moves with the puck. Robertson still with it. Portman calling for it in front of the net."

Luis races through centre. His determination clear in his jet black eyes. His skates pushing further and further up the rink. Tailing the Iceland player to the rim.

"Amselik on a breakaway. He could make it three-one. Mendoza trying to frantically to catch him. Ameslik moving in on cold berg. Luis tumbled into the goal. A loud shout heard from the audience as they all erupted into cheers and groans.

"Iceland now leads three-to-one."

"Show me the flying "V". Let's go! Let's go!" Bombay screeches over Icelands cheers. His hand parting the helmets of each player. Looking up at the score board in desperation.

And they did so. The skated into a v shape. A perfect formation. But not so much against Iceland. And just as we predicted they all go tumbling. Back against the ice and their faces pushes into it.

And another score announces through the speakers. Their chants and cheers slicing through their ears as they look at each other with a tainted frown.

"Four-nothing Iceland."

"Iceland is really taking it to Team U.S.A. they are completely dominating this game."

"You guys wanna ease up a little bit?" Gunnar rolls his eyes. Shaking his head slowly. Averman just sighs, prepping in his position.

"Just thought I'd ask."

And he's knock down once again. Averman takes his fate cheerfully m. His reddened palm swiping over his jersey as he slowly moves towards the sidelines.

"Oh god help us all."