Page 21 of Beautifully Broken

Conrad

This past week has been horrible. I can feel myself withdrawing, the dread is slowly taking residence back in my chest, and I find I’m dragging myself out of bed just to go to practice and games so I don’t lose my job.

My phone rings with calls and texts from the guys and Enid, but I can’t pull them down this well, into the darkness with me.

It’s a practice day, and I’m on autopilot. Running through plays, not chirping with the guys, going through the motions. Dominic has asked me no less than three times if I’m doing okay, and I can feel myself losing patience.

“Montez, ask me again if I’m alright and you’re getting a hockey stick up the ass,” I growl at him, just low enough that he’s the only one who can hear.

“Hoyer, get your head in the game or you’re getting benched.” Coach yells at me across the ice where I just missed another pass from McKee.

“Bench me then!” I throw my gear onto the ice and skate towards the player entrance.

“Hoyer!” Coach yells at my back.

“Hoyer, get your ass back here.” He’s getting closer, but I don’t stop.

“Come on, Conrad. Man, just stop for a second.” Maverick’s voice now follows with our coaches.

“What!”

“You can talk to us.” Hart placates.

“No, I can’t. No one here cares. No one understands. You guys just don’t want to lose a player.”

“That’s not true! My players' mental health is just as important as their physical.” Coach adds, “If you need a break, just talk to me. This life, it’s not easy. ”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Whatever you want to believe, Hoyer. This team, though, we are here for you, dude. Whether that’s now or when you get your shit together.” Maverick tries to reassure me.

You know what? Fuck this. I’m out. I’m for sure getting fined and benched for this shit but I can’t be here any longer.

I turn on my heel, walking towards the locker room, and not bothering to look back at the two people who I know deep down want to help me.

I can’t bring myself to accept that right now, though.

“Hoyer!” Maverick tries again.

“Just let him go. He’ll be back.” Coach says, just as the door to the locker room closes behind me.

***

As soon I enter the front door to my place, the darkness encapsulates me, emanating the mood I’m in.

The waves of despair that have threatened to swallow me whole now begin to pull me under— immediately taking my breath away.

Rather than fighting it like I normally would, I allow it to happen.

I let my feet walk me to my bed and my blanket cover me—without showering or changing.

I couldn’t tell you how long I stayed in the same spot.

I know that I stink, that my stomach growls, and that I haven’t seen the sunlight in a while.

I know that my phone rings and rings on my nightstand–I dared to check it once, seeing that Enid had called no less than twenty times and texted me double that.

I know that the ideas swirling in my head are too dark to share with anyone else.

End it, you have the means. No one will miss you. Your life isn’t worth living anymore. She won’t care if you’re gone.

I attempted to ward them off the first day or two, reminding myself that everything was finally starting to line up.

I had the girl, my team wanted to be around me, and even Mace was starting to open up, wanting to spend more time with me.

It’s not enough though, that small glimmer of light that sits far off in the distance gets swallowed by the darkness every time .

When the darkness engulfs me this time, though, I find myself in my closet, opening my safe, and pulling out my pistol. Wandering into the kitchen, I pull my whiskey from the cabinet and sit at my bar. I’ve made my choice. I’m sorry.