Page 22

Colin

C raigavon is quiet this morning.

Still and undisturbed.

Exactly how I like it.

The temperature outside is well below freezing. Snowflakes swirl through the air and a thick fog clings to the ground, but I barely feel the cold sting my skin as I jog down the deserted streets. Most sane people would still be in bed at this hour.

I wish I was.

It physically pained me when I got up and left Ellie’s warm, soft body and her ridiculously comfortable bed twenty minutes ago, but I have to keep jogging every day now, twice a day actually, in preparation for the final match against Bancroft.

I need to be at my best and at the top of my game. I may have some misgivings with my father, but he’s right about that.

My success.

My future.

It all hinges on the outcome of that final. Sure, a team will probably still want to sign me even if we lose, but winning will make an excellent impression and guarantee my pick of any of the premiership clubs. Not to mention it’ll showcase my skill and viability as a player.

It’s also what I want .

I want to win, not just for me, but for the lads as well. I can practically see us hoisting that trophy already. It’s right there, within our grasp and I plan on being the one who will either lead them to victory or take the fall if we lose.

A smile touches my lips just thinking about what Ellie said the other night.

She’ll be proud of me regardless of the outcome. She isn’t dating me because she thinks we’ll win. She’s not like Kiera Blake, who hitches herself to any winner she can get her grubby hands on and then ditches him the second they lose. Sure, Ellie would be disappointed if we lost, but she would bear that loss with me. When I get signed, she’ll be over the moon for me. If I decided to quit rugby tomorrow, she’d be supportive. That’s what I love about her. The security. The comfort. I never have to question her motives. She’s the greatest thing that’s happened to me to date and I still can’t believe I get to have her every day and night.

God, I love her.

I reach a corner and check left and then right before crossing the road and heading towards St Byrant Park. As I pass through the wrought iron gates, the mist suddenly thickens and the air turns dense, closing in on me. I lift my head and look around, but I can barely see the footpath I’m following, let alone my surroundings. An eery silence descends the deeper I go into the park and a shiver breaks over my skin, a profound feeling of wariness creeping into my mind.

Something feels off, but I keep going.

I’m almost done.

That’s when I hear it; footsteps rushing towards me .

But I barely get a chance to try and determine what direction they’re coming from before someone slams into me and I’m thrown to the ground. The back of my head connects with the concrete and pain explodes behind my eyes. I’m dazed and my ears are ringing, but it’s not disorientating enough that I don’t miss the unmistakable sight of a fist heading straight for my face. Hard knuckles smack into my cheek, my nose, my eye, again and again. At the same time, a booted foot jabs sharply into my ribs and then I feel it stamp down hard on my right knee. I cry out in agony just as one of my assailants smashes another powerful punch into the corner of my mouth. My lip stings as it splits. I can taste blood on my tongue, but can’t register anything beyond the excruciating pain slowly bleeding over my entire body. I hear shouting in the distance, but it’s faint, muffled and I’m unable to stop myself from drifting. I can’t keep my eyes open much longer. Everything hurts .

It hurts so much .

I’m barely conscious when I feel a sinister presence loom over me.

“I warned you to watch your back, Hunt” A familiar voice whispers menacingly, sending a sharp chill down my spine.

His fist slams into my nose.

Then everything goes black.