Edge of Breaking: On Thin Ice

Chapter 2: The text

Catalina's POV

I stared at my phone for ten minutes before I typed back, but Diego did not give me ten minutes.

I walked home from the rink with my elbow still bleeding through my sleeve and my hip throbbing with every step.

The night air was cold and it smelled like rain, but the sky was clear and the stars were out. I did not look at them. I kept my head down with my hands in my pockets, and I thought about Sebastian Castillo.

The way he looked at me, the way he said "you are lying" like he actually cared and the way his eyes softened when I asked him why he cared.

I did not know why I could not stop thinking about him. I did not even know him.

I reached my dorm room and locked the door behind me. The room was small and dark, and the only light came from the streetlamp outside my window. I did not turn on the overhead light because I did not want to see my reflection right now.

I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled off my skates. My fingers were stiff and cold, and the laces were hard to undo. When I finally got them off, I set them on the floor and pressed my hand against my elbow.

The bleeding had slowed, but it had not stopped.

I stood up and walked to the bathroom, where I ran my elbow under cold water, and the water turned pink as it washed the blood down the drain. I found a bandage in the cabinet and wrapped it around my arm. It was not pretty, but it would hold.

My phone buzzed.

I dried my hands and picked it up. The screen was bright in the dark room, and I had to squint to read the message.

Unknown Number: Clean your elbow. It will get infected if you do not.

I stared at the screen.

Who is this? I typed.

It's Sebastian. Talia gave me your number.

Of course she did. Talia had been my best friend since we were thirteen, and she had never met a boundary she did not want to push. She had been telling me for months that I needed to talk to someone who was not Diego or Coach Holcomb. She just did not know that someone would be a hockey player with a soft voice and a hard jaw.

How did you know I was bleeding? I asked.

I saw your sleeve. It was dark red.

I looked down at my sleeve. He was right. The blood had soaked through the fabric, and it was visible even in the dim light of my room.

I already cleaned it, I typed.

Good. Take something for the pain, not just because of your elbow, but for your whole body. You hit the ice hard.

I did not respond. I put my phone down on the bed and stared at the wall.

My hip was still throbbing, and my elbow was starting to ache under the bandage. I should take something for the pain, like he said. But I did not move. I just sat there, in the dark, and thought about how strange it was that a stranger cared more about my bleeding elbow than Diego ever had.

My phone buzzed again.

Sebastian: I will be at the rink tomorrow at 6 AM if you want to skate with someone who will not yell at you.

I read the message three times.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I wanted to type something back, but I did not know what to say. I did not know how to talk to someone who was not Diego or Talia or Coach Holcomb. I did not know how to be around someone who looked at me like I was a person.

I put my phone down again.

I deleted the message from my notifications, but I did not delete the conversation. I saved his number under "Sebastian" and told myself it was because Talia would ask if I had responded.

But that was a lie, and I knew it.

I lay back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. My body was tired, but my mind was not. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. Every time I opened them, my phone was right there, and I wanted to message him again.

I wanted to tell him about Diego. About the way Diego grabbed my arm, the way Diego made me feel like I was nothing, and about the way I had been bleeding on the inside for years and no one had noticed until him.

But I did not.

Because some doors, once opened, could not be closed again. And I was not ready to walk through that door. Not yet. Or maybe not ever.

But I also knew, deep down, that he had already cracked it open and I was the one who had handed him the key.

My phone buzzed again.

I picked it up, expecting another message from Sebastian.

But it was not Sebastian.

Diego: Nice night with the hockey boy. We need to talk tomorrow. Do not ignore me I know where you sleep.

My blood turned cold.

I sat up fast, and felt my hip burning with strong pain, but I did not care. I looked at the window. The curtains were closed, but I could see the glow of the streetlamp through the thin fabric.

I stood up and walked to the window. I pulled the curtain back just enough to see outside.

His car was parked under the streetlight.

Diego was sitting in the driver's seat, and his face was shining clearly by the glow of his phone screen. He was looking up at my window.

He saw me, then he raised his phone and tapped the screen.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

Diego: I see you.

I let the curtain fall and stepped back. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My hands were shaking, my breath was shallow, and I could not think.

I wanted to call Sebastian or anyone and tell them that Diego was outside. I wanted to ask for help or advice on what to do.

But I did not.

Because Diego was right. He knew where I slept, where Sofi went to school, and he knew everything about me, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

I sat back down on my bed and put my phone on the nightstand. I did not reply to Diego's message, and I did not reply to Sebastian's message either.

I just sat there, in the dark, and waited for morning.

The clock on my nightstand said 11:47 PM.

I had class and practice tomorrow. I also had to meet Diego tomorrow.

And I had no idea what he was going to do.