The Hockey Star’s Remorse

My breath caught in my throat as shock paralyzed me, watching the screams die on her lips as she stared up in shock. The sight of Bruce, his features twisted with a mix of horror and regret, sent a shiver down my spine.

“What have you done?” I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper, my mind reeling from

the suddenness and brutality of the act. Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

Bruce stood there, aghast at his own actions, his hands shaking as he stared at Stella’s prone form on the ground. Guilt and remorse etched lines of anguish on his face, a stark contrast to the violence he had just committed.

The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with the weight of what had transpired. The silence that

followed was punctuated only by the sound of ragged breaths and the distant wail of sirens.

I was frozen in shock and horror, my mind struggling to process the gruesome scene unfolding before me. It was getting to a point where I couldn’t stomach the violence.

Stella lay on the floor, her cries of pain piercing the silence, blood seeping from the wound that had torn through her.

“Help her, do something!” I pleaded, my voice cracking with urgency as I rested my gaze on Stella’s quivering form. The gash had been just inches from her protruding stomach, and I winced at the damage that could’ve been done to the child growing inside.

Bruce’s ego clashed with the urgency of the situation. His wounded pride seemed to cloud his judgment, his reluctance evident as he stood there, motionless.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bruce retorted sharply, still holding up a façade and trying to mask the panic that flickered in his eyes.

Stella’s cries reverberated through the room as she rolled across the ground and clutched her stomach. With trembling hands, she reached for the knife embedded in her abdomen.

“No, Stella, don’t!” I cried out in horror. “That could make it worse!”

Regardless of my warnings, she attempted to tear the knife out, and I feared it would worsen the bleeding. Thankfully, she seemed to give up after a few tugs, already winded from the pain.

A sense of helplessness washed over me as Bruce, in a frenzied panic, abruptly shut off the camera and stage lights. The room plunged into darkness, the only sound being Stella’s agonized sobs echoing through the suffocating space.

Desperation clawed at my chest as I looked at Bruce, and I tried to keep my voice steady. “Bruce, please! You have to help her,” I implored, my voice quivering with desperation.

I grasped at straws, trying to evoke any emotional response from him. “She’s pregnant, Bruce. She’s carrying a baby,” I pleaded, hoping that the mention of an innocent life would stir some compassion

within him.

But my

words fell on deaf ears, Bruce’s gaze cold and unyielding.

It took me a moment to realize Stella was moving again. Still curled up, she had her phone in raised in

her blood–slick hands as she dialed a number. Her trembling fingers raced across the screen and tears filled her red eyes.

Without a second thought, Bruce lunged forward, restraining her in a frantic attempt to prevent her from making the call. His actions were swift and impulsive, unaware that Stella’s phone call was still

connected, the line open, the screen displaying Timothy’s name.

A surge of realization flooded my senses. Timothy’s name flashed on the screen. I concealed my reaction, absorbing the information like a lifeline, a thread of possibility.

“Bruce,” I interjected casually, masking the urgency in my voice, “you need to get help down here in

*Stella’s basement. It doesn’t have to be a doctor, but someone needs to come and look at her.”

Bryce’s grip tightened on Stella, his expression darkening as he contemplated the gravity of the situation. His panic and desperation were palpable, clouding his judgment as he grappled with the

looming threat of exposure.

Stella’s distress escalated as she struggled against Bruce’s hold, her cries echoing through the room.

The air crackled with tension, the gravity of the moment weighing heavy on all of us.

“She’ll just be another witness,” Bruce spat out, his voice laced with a chilling determination. “And so

will you, Evie. I can’t have any witnesses.”

The gravity of his words sent a shiver down my spine. His cold, calculated threat hung in the air, the

prospect of imminent danger seeping into my bones.

“You won’t be able to do it, Bruce,” I retorted, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me.

“You have reservations about this. I can see it.”

A flicker of hesitation danced in Bruce’s eyes, a glimmer of uncertainty betraying the facade of resolve he tried to uphold. His expression wavered and he balled up his fists, now looking lost.

The room fell int

a tense silence, the weight of our predicament looming large.

“You don’t have to do this,” I urged, learning toward him. “Let someone help Stella. We can figure this

out together.”

Bruce grunted. “Would you just shut up! I’m trying to think.”

Despite his warnings, I went on, prepared to crack the surface. “You have a soft side somewhere in there,” I lied. “You wouldn’t want to harm a pregnant woman, would you? Or me.”

Another pause as his expression grew tense, a subtle crack in his facade. That seemed to tug at something within him, a trace of empathy trying to surface amidst his steely resolve.

“Don’t question me,” Bruce shot back. He looked around, looking even more at a loss when his suddenly landed on something beside his shoe.

eyes

It was in that precise moment that Bruce saw the phone lying face up on the ground, Timothy’s name written on the screen in bold. The timer for the call had reached five minutes, and Timothy had been. patient enough to hang onto every word. In a panic, Bruce abruptly seized Stella’s phone and shut it off, Cutting off the connection.

I hoped dearly that Timothy had grasped the situation and that my subtle hints would guide him somewhere. Even with him disconnected, my mention of Stella should have tipped him off.

Bruce tossed the phone aside, his icy gaze fixed upon Stella. My heart raced with panic, knowing I had

precious little time to navigate the treacherous waters of Bruce’s unpredictable temper.

“What did you tell him?” His voice was low and menacing as he bent down to shout into Stella’s ear.

She groaned, attempting to turn away from him, but he reached out and grabbed the roots of her hair. “Nothing!” she answered.

A knowing look crossed Bruce’s face, his lips curling into a twisted smile. “Oh, so you really think I’m that stupid.” His tone was menacingly calm, and I knew all too well that this facade could shatter at

moment.

any

I held my breath, hoping he would just leave her. He began circling around her, his presence suffocating.

“You’re a you know that? Don’t try to play games with me.”

le liar

I fought to keep my composure, my mind racing for a way out of this nightmare. Every fiber of my being screamed for escape, for freedom from the clutches of this monster.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “What do you want from her, Bruce? She already told

you she didn’t say anything.”

Bruce’s anger boiled over, his frustration directed at me. I jerked backward as he marched toward me

and reached for his gun. “Get up! We’re leaving,” he growled.

A surge of apprehension washed over me as I complied, obediently rising to my feet as he pulled at me.

I watched Bruce, his facade of control waning as he grappled with the unexpected turn of events. His frustration seemed to mount, his efforts to maintain dominance faltering.

He paused, his cold gaze boring into mine. “I want you to remember who’s in control here, Evie. Your

belong to me. Come on.”

As he pressed the gun to my temple and urged me up the steps, I glanced wearily at Stella’s ashen body on the floor and quivered at what Bruce had in store next.

I just hoped Timothy could get there in time. Who knew how much longer I had?