Post Olympic

this idea of nothing

hello children

sorry 

alright I gotta go write that lab report, yikes

MUSIC: What a Wonderful World (feat. Shadow Royale): Joseph William Morgan
please listen to that, I spent an hour trying to find something that fit lmaoooooo

-rabid

******************

Jorgen's arms are wrapped around my shoulders, barred across me. We're in the locker room.

"He's okay, he's going to be okay." Jorgen is loud. I don't want Jorgen.

I want Fen.

But they took him.

I'm seeing things again. Every time I blink they change. The jerseys, the hospital room. Mom. Liza's bloated body. Fen lying on the ice. Blood on the ice. His blood.

Visions swirl in my vision and I can feel my head rolling with fear. I can't see anything, I can see everything.

I blink.

The snake.

The eyes.

The red eyes.

The lunge.

I flinch away from the snake, knocking Jorgen backward. I curl up, writhing, screaming at the snake. Get back, get away.

Fen's dead.

FENRIR IS DEAD!

FENRIR IS DEAD!

And it's my fault.

It's always my fault.

My head hits metal, and then there's cold, sweet, black, relief.

And I'm floating, drifting. My limbs are loose, I'm calm, there's nothing. No sense of anything, nothing. Endless nothing. Nothing enough to have no thoughts, just, simply, peace.

Nothing to smell.

Nothing to see.

Nothing to taste.

Nothing to feel.

Nothing to hear.

Nothing to think.

Just nothing.

nothing, just me, just stars. I'm drifting away, drifting. weightless. I feel free. Free, free, free. Nothing to remember, nothing to forget. nothing to think about. Not a body, no weight, sweet nothing. 

this idea of nothing, this nothing. 

"Nico, Nico, hey," I feel something.

Then I'm slammed back into my body. I'm lead. I'm heavy, lethargic, foggy. 

"Is she waking up?" I hear someone else's voice, who is that?

"Fen?" I blink a couple of times. "Where's Fen,"

"You feeling okay?" Jorgen asks. He has a glass of water. I sit up and make to stand but black clouds my vision, so I stay down.

"No." I look around. Hadley, Greenbean, Jorgen, Yeti. "Where is he?"

"Fen's okay."

"No, he's not." I don't look at the water. "Fen's dead." Jorgen looks back at Hadley, who looks at Yeti and Greenbean. They all shake their heads. Greenbean and Yeti are still in their gear.

"Fen's at the hospital, his stomach was cut open by Alec Smithton's skate, and he sprained a knee. They were able to stitch up his stomach, he's recovering right now." Jorgen says. I sit and stare at the water, then take a sip. Then keep staring at it.

"He's dead."

"No, Fen's okay," Jorgen says. I shake my head. "His recovery period is three weeks, he'll be back for the rest of playoffs."

That sounds fake. That sounds like they're lying to me. Fen's dead.

"He's been asking for you," Hadley says. Greenbean and Yeti sit down on the bench on the opposite side of the room.

"What's he saying?"

"Before they stitched him up he told me to tell you he was okay, he knew you wouldn't take it well."

"Is he staying over," I mumble. Jorgen shakes his head.

"Long enough to make sure he doesn't get an infection."

I won't believe he's okay until I see him all dressed up in a suit, his eyes closed.

We wish her a peaceful passing into heaven and we know that she'll be waiting for us when we get there. Death is merely just moving to the next room on your journey, only a small distance away from those you love.

Six feet.

Six feet down.

Six feet from his door to mine at the rink.

Distance I should've gotten rid of.

"Is the game over?"

"Yes," Hadley says. "Ben and Håkon scored after you left, we won."

"Good," I mumble. "Good."