He Took Me Home

Work It Out

Okay so I thought I would take mercy on you guys and upload again seeing as I have a free night this weekend, (Party was cancelled :(  ) So here it is. Though I really don't have much inspiration for this one guys! Sorry but I'm trying to work out some details before we get to the nitty-gritty bits! Love you guys, this may or may not be a short one...

 

Abby's POV

I was so frustrated with everything. Frustrated with myself for being so careless and not telling Staal what really happened, frustrated with Sidney for getting so damn drunk in the first place, and frustrated at life for making me so damn weak. Maybe Evgeni was always right about me. I did need to be protected because I can't take care of myself. I'm so feeble and I haven't been able to stick up for myself and I have no one to blame for it but me.

But I'm done being weak.

I'm going back to the girl I always wanted to be. How I lost her? I have no idea, maybe the hormones and the rush of change but I don't want that anymore. I want to be the girl who can take care of herself again. I am not going to lose myself again.

After like an hour of cuddling with Bagira, I set her on my bed and pulled myself up. I put on a track suit and Nike runners. I slumped my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my stick on the way out the door. I wasn't suprised to see Sid had left but I didn't want to deal with the drama if Geno walked in and he was here anyway.

I walked out to the black Hummer H3 and loaded in my equiptment. I pealed out of the driveway and started enroute.

I'm going to the rink.

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I knew damn well the boys had practice today, later this evening and no way in hell was I going to the new arena, where I knew they would be. I was gonna blow off some steam and I couldn't do it properly if they where gonna' watch me so I drove over to The Igloo. I chuckled at the silly nickname for Mellon arena. Just because of it's dome and white exterior. It seemed like a Canadian landmark, ironically enough.

I pulled into the lot and the only cars where those of the caretakers. I slung my bag over my shoulder and I walked inside. I looked around the arena. It was still a nice arena and people probably kill to play here. Not me, I'm just gonna' ask.  I walked straight in and it was pretty dark. I was half- mindedly admireing the plaques and awards on the walls when I heard a shout from behind me.

I turned around to see an older, tired looking man trudging toward me.

"You're not supposed to be here!" he yelled. As he got closer I notice dark bags under his worried looking eyes, the wrinkles starting to develope as he hustled over to me. I noticed a slight limp in his step and I raised an eyebrow in worry. 

I only looked over the man for a second before my eyes where attracted elsewhere. There was a sharp nawing sound, like the grinding of ice beneath a sharpened blade and the sweet smack of a stick on the ice as it makes contact with the puck fallowed but the tender and sweet sound of the puck hitting the netting. I looked out onto the ice to see a tall, broad shouldered boy skating fiercly around the ice. He had on a ripped and overly warn jersey  and his socks had holes in them the size of hockey pucks. His skates looked like they had been hand-me-downs eight times over. His helmet looked a bit to small and he eventually just threw it off and continued to skate. His gloves had holes in them and I could see his fingers wrapped around his well used stick. All these things where obvious details about the young player but I only saw one thing.