Prodigy | Yuri Plisetsky (EDITING)

三

The rink was clearly occupied. A shadowy figure pranced through the ice as the only sound that projected through the hollow room was the sound of the metal blades clashing with the impenetrable ice. A faint breath could be heard gasping for air yet their silence was immediately shattered as a flash of white pierced through the glass windows.

Irina awoke to the aberration of frenzy on the television that echoed through her small home while she was trapped in her deep slumber. The sound of the television was then followed by the mixed reactions of her siblings' chatter in the living room.

She could hear Slava's voice tremble with aghast and consternation as Dmitri had choked on his routinely freshly brewed coffee and was now furiously coughing to ease his discomfort. Whatever was on the news was definitely exacerbating the conflict and tension that always inhabited and interfered with their home life.

The teenager could barely interpret the commotion blazing from the television and the louder her family spoke, the longer she was forced to stay awake to the bitter wrath of the morning weather. However, Irina hadn't dared to remove herself from the comfort of her bed, it was the only place where she genuinely felt safe and besides, based on the interjection of her father's sudden tone into the conversation, confronting the three would be walking straight into a chasm engulfed with the fires of an inferno.

She planted her head against the the pillow and stared at the plain cream ceiling, hoping that the thought of nothing would force her back to sleep. If only everyone outside had the decency to shut up.

Yet regardless, Irina was nonetheless forced to wake up when a vibration from her desk furiously began to buzz near her ear. She groused with irritation and threw her arm across onto the small table as her hand slammed onto the phone.

She squinted her eyes at the sight of the caller ID on the bright screen and planted her head against the surface with a groan. She slid her finger to accept the call.

"What do you want Yuri?" She muttered against the pillow.

"Get your damn face off your stupid pillow and get your ass to practice now. Do you see the commotion here?" He growled.

Irina shot the upper part of her body up and clenched her fist, "What commotion? I promise, I was going to wake up sooner or later, I just wanted a few more minutes of peace."

Yet the male didn't reply, instead Irina was bombarded with the ferocious tone of the latter's voice booming in the background in the clamour of snapping and the sound of numerous voices clamoured together.

"Get the hell out of my way!" His muted voice pierced through the speaker.

Irina slightly moved the phone away from her ear to avoid the deafening insults and blankly stared at the empty wall facing across her as she impatiently waited for his response. Such horrid temper from such a horrid person.

"Why do you think she's in St Petersburg rink?" She could hear a reporter shout over the commotion.  

"I don't know and I don't care who's inside! Can't you see I'm currently outside the damn stadium?! How am I supposed to tell you who's inside?!"

Irina slammed her fist against the pillow and rolled against her back to stare at the wall again. He was bound to overreact at her actions if she dared to hang up with that foul temperamental behaviour of his.

"Yuri, I'm going to hang up now and I'll see you at training in half an hour," she blankly said before hanging up. What the hell was that?