Melting ice

Getting help

*Rasmus*

I’m on the ice, but it feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare. The cold bites through my jersey, but it’s nothing compared to the searing pain radiating from my back. I’m lying there, face pressed against the unforgiving surface, and I can’t move. My body feels heavy, as if the weight of the world has come crashing down on me. The cheers of the crowd fade into a dull roar, the vibrant colors of the game blurring into a haze.

“Ava,” I hear myself groan. It’s the only name I can muster, the only lifeline I can reach for in this chaos. I know she’s nearby; she’s always nearby, like a guardian angel in a medical kit. She’s the one person who can help me through this… if I can just hang on long enough.

“Rasmus,” her voice cuts through the noise, calm and steady, grounding me even as my heart races. “Can you hear me?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus on her voice, trying to block out the pain that feels like a vice grip on my spine. “My back,” I manage, my voice a strained whisper. The fear creeps in, cold and unrelenting. What if this is it? What if I’ve just played my last game? Memories of my career flash before my eyes: the first time I stepped onto the ice as a kid, the hard work, the sacrifices, the dreams I have yet to fulfill.

“Okay,” Ava reassures me, her touch gentle as her hands probe carefully along my back. I can feel her warmth even through the ice, her presence like a lifeline in the storm. “Don’t move. Just breathe. It will be okay.”

I want to believe her. I want to trust that everything is going to be fine, but the fear wraps around me like a noose. The thought of being alone in a hospital, unsure of what’s wrong, is almost worse than the pain itself. “Ava,” I begin, my voice breaking, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I know,” she says, her voice softening, but I can hear the underlying tension. “I wish I could go with you, but I need to stay here in case anyone else gets hurt. You know how it is.”

I nod, even though the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through my back. I understand. I’ve seen her work tirelessly through injuries, staying calm while the world around us spirals into chaos. But the thought of her leaving me, even for a moment, churns my stomach. “I… I understand,” I say, but it sounds hollow.

Just then, I see a familiar face breaking through the crowd. Virginia, Caleb’s girlfriend and the team’s lawyer, pushes her way through the throng, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. “Ava!” she calls out, her voice cutting through the din. “What’s going on?”

“Rasmus took a hit to the back,” Ava explains, her tone clipped as she assesses my condition. “I’m getting him ready for transport.”

Virginia kneels beside me, her presence a comforting balm. “Hey, Rasmus,” she says softly, taking my hand in hers. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll go with you to the hospital.”

I blink up at her, surprised. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” she insists, squeezing my hand tightly. There’s an urgency to her words, a warmth that seeps into me despite the overwhelming anxiety. “You’re not going to be alone. I promise.”

Ava catches my gaze, her eyes filled with reassurance. “I’ll come to the hospital as soon as the game is over,” she says, her voice steady. “Just focus on breathing, Rasmus. You’re strong. You’ve got this.”

As the gurney arrives, the sounds of the arena dim to a distant hum. I take a deep breath, but it feels like a weight in my chest. The straps are placed carefully over me, securing me in place. I can’t help but glance back at the ice, the game still unfolding without me. A part of me is still there, battling it out with my teammates, but here I am, being wheeled away, my career hanging in the balance.

“Rasmus,” Virginia’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “Look at me.” I turn my head, meeting her gaze. “You’re going to be alright. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

As they lift the gurney, I feel the rush of cold air against my skin, a stark reminder of the reality I’m about to face. The noise of the crowd fades into the distance, replaced by the sound of wheels rolling over the ice, the murmurs of the medical staff, the supporting words from my team mates.

Virginia doesn’t let go of my hand, her grip firm and reassuring, grounding me as we’re wheeled away from the chaos. “Just keep breathing, Rasmus. We’ll get through this together.”

I want to believe her. I want to believe that this is just a bump in the road, a momentary setback in a long journey. I cling to her words, feeling the warmth of her presence wrapping around me like a shield against the impending storm.

As we exit the arena, the fluorescent lights of the hallway illuminate the way ahead, but my mind is still racing… thoughts of the game, my teammates, my future swirling in a whirlwind. I squeeze Virginia’s hand tighter, drawing strength from her support. I need to get through this.