Breaking the Rules, NHL Style

part twenty two I'm Losing You And It's So Effortless [End]

I looked at her fragile body, laying there in the bed, unable to move. Her head was wrapped in bandages, her eyes were closed and she was hooked up to a heart monitor.

I reached for her hand, taking it in mine and lightly stroking it. She barley squeezed my hand, letting me know she was still there.

I smiled down at the beautiful girl, as my teammates gathered at her bedside.

“What’s the news?” Michel asked the doctor who was walking into the room. The doctor whispered something in his ear. Michel’s face grew ghostly white, making my heart stop.

What did the doctor say? Tristan’s going to live, she has to live. She promised.

“Evgeni.”

I looked across to Sidney, seeing his blood shot eyes, tears falling onto her sheets, made me realize that I was now crying as well. Warm tears slid fast down my face. I felt so weak, so helpless.

I looked at her; her breathing was slow, but seemed steady at the time.

“Can’t you do anything?” Jordy asked the doctor, pleadingly.

“Her heart’s steady, right now, she’s doing fine. We can’t do anything else to help,” the doctor said, eyes dropping to the side, like a pathetic little boy who didn’t know what the answer at school.

“Aren’t you a doctor? What do you mean you can’t do anything!” Kris yelled at the man, he was mad, we all were. His fists were clinched, as were mine. I felt like punching something, but really, what would that fix?

I felt like her life was slipping through my finger tips and I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t change anything.

If only I hadn’t passed her the puck, if only I had taken the hit. Everything would’ve been different. She wouldn’t be laying here right now. I felt like all of this was falling back at me.

“Don’t worry Geno, she’s going to live. She’s stronger then we think,” Max assured me, standing by my side and smiling at the girl he had known as a close friend.

“I know,” I whispered, feeling her hands grow colder. “Her hand," I gasped.

“What?” TJ asked, panicking a little. Her makeup was running and her hair was messed up, Jordan was hugging her, both of them crying together. I only wished that I could hold Tristan the same way, telling her all the things I never got to.

The three words I was too scared to tell her. She was the one for me and I had known it.

So why couldn’t I have stopped this horrible thing from happening? Why couldn’t I have protected her?

“Evgeni.”

Marc- Andre and Bugsy pulled me out of the room. I leaned against a wall, head in my hands, letting my tears run freely.

“Evgeni, just know that none of this is your fault. All you did was pass the puck. Y-you couldn’tve seen the hit coming” Bugsy said, voice shaky, tears filing up in his eyes.

“No. It’s all my fault. I could have taking the hit. I know I could have.”

“Evgeni.” Marc’s voice fell hard on my ears. “It’s not your fault. I know you don’t want to lose her. I don’t either... But if you keep blaming everything on yourself it will only make it harder,” Marc whispered, face red with tear stains.

What was he saying? Tristan isn’t going to leave me.

I walked slowly inside, back to the position I was at before leaving the room, stroking her hand. The monitor was beeping every few seconds, letting us know her heart was doing fine.

“Tristan. You played a great game," Sidney told her as her hand laying limp in his. “I’m so glad that I have such a great assistant,” Sidney continued, wiping the tears from his face.

“We couldn’t have made it this far without you,” Michel said sadly smiling.

Like she could even hear us.

Her angle-like-hair fell over her face, over the pillows and over her sheets.

Maybe that’s where she was headed to be, an angle... No! Evgeni, she’s not going to di- go. She promised.

I couldn’t speak, or even think the words, die or death. It just felt so wrong.

“Please, I just need a moment, we need to check on something things and give some pain medicine to her. Please everyone out of the room,” the doctor said walking over to her.

My teammates and I slowly walked out of the room.

I sat down in a chair.

My whole world felt like it was crashing down around my feet. I felt like I couldn't breath, like chocking on nothing but my own regrets.

It was me. It was all my fault.

What were they thinking, letting a girl into the NHL? Look what’s happened. And she told me she could handle any hit. Well, she had, up until now.

I looked around the room. All my teammates were there, away from their families and friends to be here, for their teammate. This showed what kind of bond our team had together. Sure the coaches told everyone to come and see Tristan for awhile, but it has been hours since the game ended.

Michel Therrien, Mike Yeo and Andre Savard were talking in a corner, hushed voices.

This didn’t look like this was going to turn out good.

By now it was one in the morning, six hours from the knock out hit. And we were still in the waiting room, waiting for the doctor to come out and tell us we could see her again.

I only hoped and wished that she’d come walking out of that room. Smiling that sweet smile, wearing her Penguins shirt, like she normally did, telling us she was feeling much better. But who was I kidding? Most likely she would never walk again...

“Evgeni.”

I turned to my left, Sidney sat down beside me.

“I-I,” he started, holding back tears that so badly wanted to fall to the ground. “W-what if we lose her?” he asked, and I couldn’t bear the look he was giving me, the words he was speaking.

“We won’t, we can’t... she... promised,” I finally said, looking to my best friend, trying to shoot a reassuring smile at him, but failing miserably. Instead, the end result was me breaking down and crying again.

Remembering all the times that Tristan and I had shared together. From the first moment she walked into the house.

Setting rules, like we weren’t allowed in her room. Which we all broke in the first five seconds she was there. Memories of the two of us together flooded my head.

Holding hands, laughing, screaming, crying, kissing. And it all was slowly fading. And there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

I fumbled with the bracelet that I had been wearing since the Fourth of July. And right now, even on her deathbed, she was wearing the necklace that I had given her those many months ago, in the closet. And then it hit me.

She still doesn’t know who gave her the necklace, she doesn’t know it was me. I felt so guilty for not telling her, in the closet, who I was. And then, all of a sudden, I felt an urge for a confession.

I felt so bad for all the fights we had, and all the terrible things that I had said. I couldn’t take them back, not now, not ever.

I regretted not telling her all the things I so badly wished to yell at the top of my lungs. And most of all, all those wasted minutes, of yelling, fighting, of emptiness, of not kissing the lips I so badly wanted to feel under mine.

And then again, maybe Tristan Davis wasn’t the one for me. I shook the ludicrous thought from my head, sitting quietly for the doctor to return.

“You may go in now.”

I looked up, two hours later we were being let in. I got up walking into the room first, followed by my team and coaches.

I took Tristan’s hand again, stroking it. The only thing I could do was stand and watch her slip in and out of consciousness. It was tearing me apart, and I could barley watch.

The clock on the wall was slowly ticking, like counting down the minutes I had left with her. I felt as if it was mocking me.

All of my teammates were on the floor, wrapped up in blankets, asleep. It was almost four in the morning now, and we were all tired. Michel, Mike and Andre had gone to get coffee. I sat on a chair, stroking her hand. I was for the moment alone, and now was the perfect time for a confession.

“T-trisan. If your listening, I’d like to tell you something.” I heard the steady beat of the heart monitor, and then I felt her hand lightly squeeze mine. I felt my heart leap, and my face brighten. I saw my necklace on her chest, the little hockey player moving up and down on her chest, continuous with her breathing.

“That was me, on the Fourth of July, in the closet," I whispered.

“I-I know.”

She opened an eye and lightly smiled at me. Her normally beautiful pearl white skin, was as sickly white as the bed sheets. I smiled back, until my smile faded. Tristan had gone into a coughing fit. It lasted a minute and then she settled back down.

I held her hand in mine. Bringing it up to my lips, and kissing it softly. A noise hit my ears hard, and I nearly jumped out of my seat. It was the heart monitor, just for a minute going up and down, and then finally settling out to a steady heart beat.

“She doing all right?” Andre asked from the door, holding a cup of coffee.

“I think so...” I said, trailing off.

“Good. The three of us are going to be in the waiting area. We all need to talk for a while.”

“Okay.”

“And Evgeni.”

“Yeah?”

“Hold in there.”

With that Andre turned around, walking out of the room and disappearing from my site.

But his words hung in the room, like a rain cloud that hung over my heart.

I shook at every thought of playing a game without Tristan being there. Going home, opening the door to not see her there. To live my life without her there by my side.

The sun was now slowly coming up, and I was still the only one that was awake in the room.

“E-Ev?” I turned my attention to the girl next to me.

“Tristan?”

“I-I want to tell you s-somehting,” she stuttered.

“Shh, Tristan don’t talk.”

“Lean d-down.”

I did as I was told without hesitation.

I leaned close to the girls face, seeing her eyes were open. This was a good sign, right?

“I love you,” she whispered, barley audible. My eyes were wide open, my heart beat raising.

“W-what?”

“I-I love you,” she repeated, and this time, the words processed in my head.

I got what she was saying.

“Tristan. I love you too, I always have," I said softly, searching the girls eyes, trying to find something. A message, maybe?

Something to tell me what I could do to save her life, to keep her alive. Was there even anything I could do?

“Good," she smiled, and leaned up slightly, touching my lips with hers. I leaned in, deepening the kiss. My hands on either side of her bed, my hand still holding hers. I broke the kiss, staring into her stunning blue eyes.

“I love you Evgeni. Please d-don’t forget.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes were red and tears were spilling down her face, making tears fall from mine. The tears slowing falling onto her beautiful face. I hated seeing her cry. It tore me apart.

“N-no.”

I felt her hand drop from mine, her eyes slowly shutting. The heart monitor was signaling loudly, going up and down.

“Tristan!” I cried. “Help! Help!” I screamed, waking up my teammates. A doctor and nurse ran into the room. “Her monitor!” I yelled pointing at the thing that was going up and down and back up. Almost in slow motion, everyone was running around the room, screaming, yelling, crying.

I watched as they shocked her, hoping she would still be with us. “One-two-clear.” another shock was sent through her body.

Sidney and Jordan stood next to me. Watching the scene, in hysterics as well.

And that’s when I knew, I was in over my head, and nothing was going to help her now.

She was gone, already passing on.

The clock ticked loudly; the three coaches ran into the room. I was unable to see her, but heard the shock rush through her body once more.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep...

I looked up seeing the heart monitor, the line slowly coming across as straight, my heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, and this time, no one would be there to pick up the pieces.

This can’t be happening, this isn’t true.

“We’ve lost her. Tristan Davis has passed away.”

I wanted to push those words out of my ears.

No. This isn’t the end. She promised!

I fell to the ground. I had lost her, and so effortlessly. She was gone, and couldn’t come back.

“Evgeni!” Sidney screamed, sitting on the ground next to me, hugging me tightly and crying into my shoulder.

And we were call ourselves NHL hockey players? I thought bitterly, shaking hard

“S-she’s gone?” I whispered, clutching her bracelet, now in my hand. Pulling my head down to my knees. “She’s dead,” I told myself bluntly, tears once again falling into my lap.

And that’s why girls shouldn’t be in the NHL.

I pushed my body down, my stomach resting on the floor. I pounded the floor with all of my being, as if I hit it hard enough it would bring her back. But no, not this time. This time I couldn’t bring her back. She was gone.

“Tristan!” I cried sobbing hard.

And the truth was setting in.

I would never see my best friend again.

The girl I had fallen in love with.

To turn and run when all I needed was the truth
But that's how it's got to be
It's coming down to nothing more than apathy
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears

And suddenly I become a part of your past
I'm becoming the part that don't last
I'm losing you and its effortless
Without a sound we lose sight of the ground

And everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind.

She's on your mind.