SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL, J.HUGHES

TWENTY FIVE

JACK'S POV

So, here we are, three minutes left on the clock in the overtime period. I snag the puck and pass it to Luke, banking on him to seal the deal. We charge towards the goalie, adrenaline pumping, victory within reach. But then, out of nowhere, Luke chokes. The other team swoops in, snags the puck, and boom, scores on us. Again.

I skate over to him, shooting him the nastiest glare I can muster. Seriously, man? Luke's got skills for days, but his confidence? Yeah, it's about as stable as a Jenga tower in an earthquake.

The stadium falls dead silent, except for the rival team's victory hollers. Our home crowd? They're booing up a storm. Can't blame them, really. We're supposed to be the hometown heroes, not the punchline.

But hey, preseason's over. If we're gonna stand a chance this year, we've gotta come back swinging. No room for doubt, no room for hesitation. It's time to channel our inner beasts and tear up that ice like it's the last game of our lives.

And Luke? He's gotta get his head in the game, no excuses. We're a team, and we rise or fall together.

We all exit the ice and head to the locker room. Everyone's clamoring for pics and autographs from me. On my way out, I fist bump maybe two or three people—I'm not even keeping track. All I can think about is getting out of this damn equipment and into something comfortable.

Don't get me wrong, I love the game, but my favorite days are the ones when I've got nothing on the schedule. A day off means kicking back, chilling with friends, maybe hitting up my favorite spots around town. Those are the days I live for.

It all starts with fun, right? The thrill of the game, the rush of adrenaline—it's what drew me in. But somewhere along the line, it all changed. My rookie year, man, it messed me up big time. I was young, full of ambition, thinking I could conquer the world. But reality hit hard.

The pressure, the expectations—it weighed me down until I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, the sport I once loved felt like a burden. I'd drag myself to practice, counting down the minutes until it was over. The passion I had? It turned into resentment, and eventually, I just wanted to walk away from it all.

Life started to feel like one big blur of disappointment and exhaustion. I questioned everything—my choices, my dreams, my purpose. It's a dark place to be, feeling like you're drowning in your own life.

But here's the thing about hitting rock bottom: it forces you to confront the truth. Yeah, I was lost for a while, but I refused to let it define me. I dug deep, found that fire within me again, and slowly clawed my way back up.

It wasn't easy, and it sure as hell wasn't quick, but I learned something along the way. Sometimes, the hardest battles are the ones we fight within ourselves. And when you come out on the other side, you're stronger than you ever thought possible. So yeah, my rookie year messed me up, but it also made me who I am today—a fighter, a survivor, and damn proud of it.

I was scared for Luke, you know? He's my little brother, someone I care about more than I can put into words. Seeing him struggle under all that pressure... it hit me hard. He did his best, gave it everything he had, but man, it was tough for him.

And then there were the people on the internet, hiding behind their screens, tearing him down like it was nothing. Saying he didn't belong on the team, that he wasn't as good as he thought he was. It's messed up, really. Poor kid didn't deserve any of that.

But here's the thing—they don't see what I see. They don't see the nights when Luke's alone in his room, crying his eyes out. It breaks my heart, knowing he's hurting like that. But I'm no good at this emotional stuff. I can barely handle my own feelings, let alone someone else's.