The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 45

| felt the gnawing ache in my stomach as | sat in the dimly lit shed, weak from hunger. | returned to cutting at the rope, but my movements were less methodical and more robotic as | grew tired.

It looked like midday, but | wasn’t sure if that was a whole day that had passed by, or perhaps more than that. Either way, Bruce hadn't been back and | felt oddly less comfortable with that knowledge. | didn’t know how secluded we were, so there was a possibility that just anybody could walk in with even worse intentions. without the threat of prying eyes.

My arms were growing sore from cutting, but | was prepared to push through it before the doors of the shed suddenly slid open. | jerked away from the shovel and maneuvered the chair so that | was facing Bruce as he walked in.

Of course, he wasn’t dumb enough to ignore the fact that I’d traveled across the room. He narrowed his eyes as he walked forward, a large bag dangling in his hands.

“Up to no good?” He dropped the bag at my feet and hovered over me, observing my ropes. He kissed his teeth and grumbled, “As | thought.”

| was prepared to give him a lousy

bag caught my attention. | stretched my neck, attempting to get a glance at whatever was inside. Noticing my curiosity, Bruce laughed and picked it back up.

attention. | stretch cuse, but the savory aroma drifting from the

“You must be hungry,” he said, his voice oozing with satisfaction. He kneeled down beside me and started pulling out the contents of the bag, which were just a box. and some utensils.

When he popped open the box, my mouth watered at the sight of waffles and eggs with a side of sausage links. He took the bundle of utensils and began sawing into the sausage.

“Bruce, please,” | said hoarsely, my throat crying for water.

He simply shrugged and stove a slice into his mouth, chewing painfully slow. It seemed that a whole hour passed as he went through the breakfast, sampling each. side with intrigue, as if acquiring a new taste. All the while, my stomach roared and grumbled, calling for its own fill despite the cheap looking food.

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Eventually, he finished it off with a loud burp that he blew in my direction. Then, with a smile, he tossed the utensils into the box and shoved it all to the side.

“Delicious!” he cheered, beaming at me. “But | know you can do better. Remember those breakfasts you used to make, Coco?”

| watched him, quietly taking him in. Those breakfasts were more so for my father and 1, especially as he got leaner over time. Getting the proper sustenance every day was a priority that he gave up on entirely.

“| hope you enjoyed the meal,” Bruce taunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Maybe you should have brought a snack?”

His words only served to deepen my resolve to escape. | had to keep him in at relatively good mood, which | was used to. “So, what's your grand plan, Bruce?” | asked weakly. “Why go through all this trouble?”

Bruce hummed as he picked at his teeth with his pinkie nail. He spit out whatever residue had been lingering. “Simple. I’m going to get my share of the money you won in court.”

| shifted in my seat, wincing as the rope cut into one of the burns it had left on my wrist while | was cutting it. Bruce was quick to notice this and he chuckled, leaning

1. in.

“Having trouble, Evie?” Bruce taunted, still seated beneath me like a petulant child. “I must say, you’re not as resourceful as | thought you were.”

| resisted the urge to snap back at him. Playing along, at least for the moment,

him.

might be my only chance to gain any advantage or at least for the moment,

“I'm just making myself more comfortable,” | said. “It’s not every day | find myself in this kind of situation.”

Bruce chuckled. “You always did try so hard to act tough, Coco. Too defiant, just like your old man.”

My heart leaped at the mention of my late father, who Bruce seemed determined to bring up at every moment possible. “You never knew him,” | said, my anger flaring. “He had his own demons, and he

took care of them in unfortunate ways.”

Bruce’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, his eyes narrowing. “Ah, yes. Your dear old dad. Such a shame he couldn’t take care of his little girl properly.”

| gritted my teeth, keeping my next words from slipping out. He was just trying to provoke me, to break my spirit, but | refused to give him the satisfaction.

“You're just like him, you know,” Bruce continued, his voice dripping with venom. “Weak, pathetic, a burden to everyone around you.”

His words stung, and | felt that familiar wave of self-doubt wash over me. He noted. my hesitation and his eyes widened.

“Oh, Evie,” Bruce sneered. “You know you're just fooling yourself. No one cares. about you. Not even the sad men that want to screw you.”

My eyes began to sting as fresh tears threatened to spill. His words were all meant to prod at me, but they had broken through my resolve so easily. Only from Lucas and Aria did | ever hear an “I love you” said genuinely, but that doubt in my mind always lingered.

“But anyway,” he switched the conversation, looking satisfied that he’d drawn out my tears. “I called lover boy, and he said he’d be here promptly to ‘bash my head.

in

He made air quotes around that last part, but | could hear the tension in his voice. He stood up and dusted off his pants before kicking the bag of food off to the side. Then he walked around and placed his hands on my shoulders. his tight grip a warning on its own.

Time seemed to crawl as we sat in the dimly lit shed. Every second felt like an eternity, and my heart pounded loudly in my ears. | strained to listen for any sound outside, praying that Timothy would find her.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out her name from beyond the walls of the shed. “Evie! Evie, are you in there?” Relief flooded through me, knowing that Timothy was close.

“Tim-” | started to call his name before receiving a harsh slap to the side of my head. | turned to glare at Bruce. 36

|

Without warning, Bruce lunged at me, a knife gleaming in his hand. Before | could scream, he pulled out some duct tape and pressed a piece of it against my mouth, silencing me.

“Shut the hell up.” Bruce hissed, his grip on the knife tightening. “Don’t make a sound, or i'll make you regret it.” Timothy's voice grew closer, his tone urgent. “Evie, where are you? Answer me!”

Desperate to warn Timothy, | tried to kick against the shed’s wooden walls, hoping he would hear the noise and realize | was inside. But Bruce’s iron grip kept me restrained, his eyes filled with a sinister triumph.

“You're not going to ruin this for me, Evie,” Bruce whispered, his face inches from mine. “Don’t fuck this up.” In a last-ditch effort, | tried to scream, but the duct tape stifled her cries.

Bruce gave up on trying to silence me, instead rushing to the door and flattening. him against the wall beside it. Abruptly, the shed door squealed open, and Timothy’s concerned face appeared in the doorway.

“Evie? Are you in here?” Timothy’s eyes scanned the dim interior of the shed, hist gaze finally landing on me. He was drenched from head to toe in rain water, making his face and hair almost glimmer.

Fear and relief washed over Timothy's features as he saw me bound and gagged. Without hesitation, he rushed towards me, but Bruce sprang into action, brandishing the knife.

“Not so fast,” Bruce warned, the knife gleaming dangerously in the dim light. “One step closer, and | won't hesitate to use this.”

Timothy's eyes narrowed, but he wisely stopped in his tracks. His gaze locked with mine, however, as Bruce stepped toward him.

“Let her go, Bruce,” Timothy said, his voice firm. “This doesn’t have to end badly for anyone.”

Bruce’s lips twisted into a malicious smile. “Oh, but it does, Timothy. You don’t understand the kind of game I’m playing here.” My heart pounded as | took in the tense standoff between the two. Timothy

wouldn't back down, and | couldn't decide if that was a terrible quality in this scenario.

Even worse, Bruce seemed far more unpredictable and desperate, than before. The knife was a new accessory he’d brought along into his game of torture. All | could do was pray that Timothy would find a way to save us both.

“Damn, was the sex that good, Timmy?” Bruce snorted. “Gotta give it another whiff before you skip off to the next dumb broad?” “Shut you mouth!” Timothy growled.

“Watch your temper, lover boy!” Bruce snapped back, waving the knife around. “I’m armed and dangerous, remember? | also have some conditions.”

“You want money,” Timothy stated, but he seemed far more invested in me. He stepped closer to me, his eyes softening. “Evie, are you alright?” he asked urgently.

| nodded, trying to mask my fear for his sake. “I’m okay, Timothy,” | managed to say, my voice trembling slightly. Bruce hummed. “Isn’t she just a brave little thing? So willing to protect her knight in shining armor,” he taunted, waltzing closer.

Timothy's jaw clenched, but he managed to keep his emotions in check. “You're not getting a cent out of either of us. You're just going to ask for more.”

Bruce’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of seething anger. “You are one arrogant asshole,” he said icily. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

“I'm not here to play your games. Bruce.” Timothy replied, his voice unwavering. “Let Evie go, and we can settle this without violence.”

Something ticked in Bruce’s expression. It seemed he would back down for a brief second, but then he lunged at Timothy, catching him off guard. The knife he had been wielding found its mark, piercing Timothy’s shoulder.

Ascream tore from my throat as Timothy cried out and collapsed to his knees. Blood spilled from the wound and soaked his shirt in seconds.

“Timothy!” 5/0

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