Tate's first taste of power

Tate

Hockey, that was a mans sport. Hockey was about winning and being the best. Hockey was what I would have been playing if I wasn't stuck in a damn wheelchair. All because of the damn Party at Cain's, the earthquake that nearly leveled our city. Some people walked away with minor injuries like a black eye or sprained wrist. Some people died. What did I get? Stuck in a damn wheelchair because one of Cain's massive ass marble statues fell on my back. I didn't give two degrees of shit about what type of injury I had, just that I couldn't move my damn legs.

Instead of being in the arena, playing on the ice, I was confined to a wheelchair in a hospital, being pushed around by a girl who lost her left eye. It was my fault we had even gone to Cain's party in the first place. I was blind to Sage's discomfort, like usual

"It's not your fault you know." Her voice was quiet, very soft. If you didn't listen you'd never hear it.

"We should have gone to see a movie or something like you wanted. Not go to a house, get drunk, and almost die" I spat out.

"The theatre was totally leveled" her voice was a matter of fact.

"Yeah?" I felt as if I'd been scolded. Damn, Sage knew how to make a guy feel guilty.

"Yeah. Now go relax in your own room. The nurses are chatty and I don't want to be a part of their gossip." She said a little pretentiously. I glanced up to look at her face. The white bandages threw off everything about Sage. She didn't look strong anymore, just broken. It was my fault.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever" my voice strained with annoyance as I wheeled myself off to my room.

You learnt quickly in this hospital to keep your eyes forward and not to stare at anyone. Some were really worse off.

The only good thing out of all this was Cain's parents paying for everyone's medical fees. Considering his dad owned the hospital and he mom was some loaded robot scientist the kid had perks.

The only thing I am is Angry. Angry that I let my best friend get hurt. Angry that people had died. Angry that this couldn't be stopped. It felt like a tight knot forming in my chest. The same feeling whenever I got into a fight with my dad and step-mom. The same feeling I saved for on the ice. But I didn't have the luxury anymore.

Instead I aimed my anger at the wall... And my fist flew right through it like cream cheese.

"Holy shit." Were the first two words that left my mouth, then it was a cry of pain. I was strong enough to punch a wall, but not strong enough to survive punching the metal pipe that ran through it. It felt like I'd broken my hand. I was going to need more painkillers for this.