Truthbreaker (2) -Charlie Conway

Practice, practice, practice!

Lyla Mitchell's POV

i was exhausted.

Actually, scratch that. I was positively fatigued.

Actually, scratch that. No words could ever match the pain I was feeling in this moment as I skated over to the other side of the boards again. Coach took it apon himself to be an even worse pain in the ass as we skated laps after laps after laps.

I lost track of time after the 11:00 mark and I was praying this newly terrible form of torture would end soon.

My legs felt like jello and sweat dripped from my hair and nose, bringing me a sweet sensation as some drops met my cracked lips. I hastily licked them away, and kept skating.

I Don't know what I did to piss off the man, but it seems like I committed murder as he eyed me intensely. If I could, I would've jump at coach Bombay, and attack his stupid, gel filled hair as he screamed with agony by the hands of me. Sure, it's a little intense, but I knew at least someone on my team has similar thoughts like mine.

Like god was staring down at me, I heard the whistle of coach sound through the rink, signalling this torture would end, at least for a bit.

I struggled to catch my breath, as I bent down on one knee. I saw my hard breath flow through the cold air as I felt a figure next to me. I looked over to see Adam also kneeling beside me, breathing heavily as sweat beads down his red glistening face. His eyes met mine.

"I don't think I could do this any longer." He says between heavy breaths, making me scoff. I would've laughed, but that was too tiring.

"This is a bit excessive, I mean isn't this like, torture to an extent?" I say as I too try to catch my breath, taking off my helmet to wipe the sweat beads that formed over my eyes.

"Tell me about it. Hey," He says as I take my hand across my face, ridding it of the wet droplets. "What did you do to piss him off so bad?" He asked, causing me to shrug. You tell me!

"Your answer is as good as mine." I say with a light chuckle, picturing myself strangling the man. Thank god no one can read minds because if they have read mine, I would be arrested for twelve offences and sent to prison for 30 years without parole.

"Twenty more sprints! Let's go!" The now annoying and absolutely infuriating voice of coach Bombay yelled at the kneeling hockey players. Groans escaped the mouths of the exhausted USA team as we all slowly staggered up, and continued to skate lines upon lines.

I thought I liked skating. I thought I liked the thrill of gliding effortlessly across the frozen ground, hearing the ice underneath me crack under the pressure of my blades. Only till now, though, coach Bombay is changing my mind. Now, to me it seems more like a job, rather than a thrill of the moment adventure. His constant nagging is making me think I need to try harder, and I'm on my 14 lap already, way ahead of my teammates. If I could prove that I was good enough, maybe I could end his berating on my behalf.

——*•+..+•*——

Holy mother of god.

Practice was over.

I almost did a happy dance as i quickly went to grab my water bottle. I was utterly exhausted and wanted to engulf myself in the warm, cotton like sensation called my bed sheets. I was so excited to finally be leaving this freezing rink, that I accidentally knocked my water bottle over the edge of the bench. I groaned as everyone else grabbed their water bottles, making me annoyed.

Of course it falls over.

I was to tired to skate over the the bench doors, so I just jumped up and leaned over the edge, my stomach on the wall of the bench as my feet dangle in the air on the other side. Snickers were heard as my teammates skated away, but I was to busy and tired to care. I finally reached my water bottle and grabbed it, setting my feet back down on the hard surface.