Aspiring

Nightmare and the Marchandistas

Tyler Marchand woke up with his hands tied above his head. He struggled to focus and finally came to. He realized he was tied in a bathroom stall at the Kelley Rink (Conte Forum) Center. It took him a couple minutes to get his strength back and focus clearly. He listened closely. He couldn't hear anyone and didn't see anyone walking outside of the stall. He lifted his feet up and hung by the chains wrapped around his wrists. Tyler heard other chains rattle and he placed his feet back on the ground gently.

"Who's there?" he asked quietly.

"Marchy?"

"Yeah."

"It's Patrick. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so. You?"

"Yeah."

"Are we alone?"

"No. Fiyero's here too."

"Are you guys okay?"

"We're fine. They haven't been back for a while." Fiyero’s voice spoke.

Tyler lifted his feet again, this time to kick open the stall door in front of him. The door hinges broke and the door fell to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Patrick Cleary’s timid voice came.

"Shhh." Tyler put his feet on the toilet seat to steady himself then began pulling on the chains. He stopped and made his hands as thin as he could then pulled his arms down. His hands painfully slipped through the chains. He had managed to get them free with only a couple cuts. He slowly crept out of the stall and looked around. His ribs were aching and his side felt as if someone was cutting his insides with a sharp blade. He opened the stall door next to the one he had previously been in. Patrick was inside, chained the same way he had been.

"How did you get out?" Patrick asked.

"I'm just talented like that." Tyler reached into his pocket. He pulled out a handy pocket knife that he’d remembered sticking in there earlier that day. "This should work." He reached up to pick at the lock around Patrick's hands. He was taller than Tyler so the Nova Scotian had to reach way up to get it. He still couldn't reach it right so he placed his hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Are you steady?" His linemate nodded, not sure what his friend was talking about. He jumped up and wrapped his legs around his waist, reaching up to grab the lock. He could feel him breathing against the skin on his chest, as he picked at the lock.

"You smell nice," he whispered randomly. Tyler looked down at him. His eyes met with the man who had once been angry at him. "Most people smell bad after a hockey game." Tyler laughed and continued at the lock. He got it off and his arms fell down, wrapping around his teammate so he wouldn't fall. He held him for a moment, looking into his eyes. “Thanks. Sorry about being a pain in the ass on the ice.”

"Hey, are you done yet?" Fiyero called. Patrick set Tyler down and we went into the next stall.

"Let me get on your back." Tyler said to Patrick. He bent over far enough for him to jump on his back. Fiyero wasn't as tall but he was still too tall for Tyler to reach. Patrick was about six feet three and a half inches and he was only five feet eight inches. Fiyero was six feet. Tyler picked at the lock and freed him as well. Patrick let him down off his back and the three of them crept out of the stall. They moved silently to the door.

"We must be in the bathroom by the main door. The others are way smaller." Tyler spoke.

"Do you think they're out there?" It was Patrick Cleary.

"I doubt. They had us chained, which means they're probably out trying to kill the others." Tyler stated, sounding wise like Fiyero.

"Why didn't they just kill us?" Patrick asked.