The More It Hurts

Miles

"We are suffering. We cannot breathe. What the hell is going on McCall?" Coach scanned Scott's face under the helmet. His expression was shock. He could definitely sense a difference between Max and her team but her heartbeat told him that she was lying when she said. "McCall?"

"She's fast, she's strong, she gave me a pretty sore bruise coach actually." Stiles told him showing him the minuscule bruise on his forearm.

Coach humoured him for a second then told him to shut up. He pulled McCall aside. "Your friend is right. And it's a first. She's strong and aggressive. You've gotta match that. Now, you're kind of sucking. Go out there and kill her. Just take her out cause we'll probably be versing them in finals and they're not as good without her. Go go kill her." He patted him on the back and shoved him out again.

Max and Scott were in the centre again. Three... Two... One. Whistle blows and Scott ran straight for her. She fell back and hit the floor.

"What the hell was that?" She yelled. The ref got her up and continued the game and she dodged him second time. She ran and ran and then she stopped and let Scott run past her. He stood in front of her and she beckoned for him to charge. Nothing. Again, she beckoned. He charged full speed right at her and she rolled right off him and shot straight at the net.

She looked back at him, then to the score board. 0-18. She pulled her helmet off revealing a freckled faced girl with brown hair. She looked back at Scott and mouthed "Sorry," before heading back to the centre.

Whistle blew and he didn't charge. She picked up the ball and ran. He chased and chased then jumped at her legs and tripped her. Stiles landed on her head. She was out cold. Ref blew the whistle.

"Red card. McCall, Stilinski you're off."