Chapter 16
I storm out of the arena, the lingering taste of Ziggy on my lips and the feel of her body pressed against mine haunting me. What the fuck came over me? Literally. I can’t believe I got so teed up I came in my pants like a damn teenager. I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before. The sheer embarrassment of it washes over me, making me feel like a kid who can't control himself. But as the initial shock wears off, a new realization sets in—it isn't embarrassing. It was fucking hot. The she-devil herself did that to me. Ziggy, with her fiery eyes and sharp tongue, pushed me over the edge in a way no one else ever has. The thought of it freaks me the hell out, giving me goosebumps. It's as if she has this power over me. I can’t shake it, and as much as I hate it, all I want is more.
Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas avec moi? What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t keep letting her get to me like this. No, that can never happen again. I was blinded by my own rage, overwhelmed by how angry she made me. Just the thought of her. It’s like a fire ignited inside me, burning away my focus and control. That fire turned to lust and that is something I can’t afford to be distracted with. My career, my reputation, and a record to break are on the line. I need to never think about Ziggy again—ever. She’s nothing but trouble, a complication I don’t need. I have to shut her out of my mind and focus on what really matters. Hockey.
Days later, and Ziggy is still in my head, wreaking havoc on my pregame routine. Every time I try to focus, her image flashes before my eyes, distracting me and pulling me away from what really matters. The rituals that once brought me clarity and calm now feel empty and meaningless. I go through the motions—stretching, visualizing plays, taping my stick—but my mind is elsewhere, an infuriating mix of thoughts about her. Her challenging glare, her fiery words, the way her body felt pressed against mine. It is all-consuming, and it's throwing me off my game in the worst way possible. I can feel my performance slipping, and I hate it. I need to find a way to get her out of my head before it costs me everything.
It happened again. I cost the team another win. As the final buzzer sounds through the arena, I feel the crushing weight of yet another loss settle on my shoulders. I was off all night—my reflexes slow, my focus scattered. Every time the puck came my way, I hesitated, my mind drifting back where it didn’t belong. Her voice, her touch, her damn presence haunted me, and it ruined my game. The disappointment in my teammates’ eyes is like a dagger to the heart. They don't say anything, but I can feel their frustration. This is on me, and I know it. Ziggy is in my head, and I have no idea how to get her out.
Game after game, week after week, I find myself on the losing end, and it is driving me insane. Each game feels like a cruel joke, my once-unshakeable confidence crumbling with every missed save and every goal scored against me. My teammates are supportive, but I can see the frustration in their eyes, the silent questions about what has happened to their star goalie. The record I was so close to breaking now seems like a distant dream, slipping further away with each defeat. The losing streak isn't just affecting my stats; it’s unraveling everything I have worked so hard to achieve.
My body feels the weight of each loss, the toll of the mounting pressure evident in my aching muscles and exhausted bones. The once exhilarating rush of adrenaline before a game now transforms into a knot of anxiety that twists in my stomach. Sleep is elusive as my mind replays every mistake and missed opportunity, tormenting me in the darkness. The spark that once ignited my love for the game now flickers dimly as doubts creep in, whispering that maybe I am not cut out for this anymore. The relentless pressure to perform, to live up to the expectations I have set for myself, threaten to suffocate the passion that has driven me for so long.
Even drowning in chaos and despair, a flicker of determination still burns within me. I refuse to let this losing streak define me, to accept defeat as my ultimate destiny. I know I have to confront the demons that plague my mind, to find a way to regain my focus and rediscover the internal confidence that once propelled me to greatness.
It is time to silence Ziggy’s haunting occupancy of my brain and break free from the suffocating grip of this losing streak. With renewed determination, I step onto the ice, ready to reclaim my ability to be the star goalie, to rewrite the narrative that has threatened to unravel everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve. The battle is far from over, but I am ready to fight, to reclaim my place in the game and in my own mind.
Since that night, I’ve been in a downward spiral and have lost every single one of the games I've played. My performance is a joke, and I know exactly why. Ziggy is in my head, consuming my thoughts at the worst possible moments. It's her face I see, her voice I hear, her body I imagine. It pisses me the fuck off. I haven’t seen her since our encounter in the hallway. Yet, somehow, I am still full of anger and desire twisted together. All I can think about is bending her over and taking out every ounce of my frustration on her.
Every time I touch myself, it’s her I think about, and I hate myself for it. I know I shouldn’t—she is the enemy, the reason for my downfall. Yet, she lives rent free in my mind. Her intoxicating presence is seared into my brain. It is ruining me. The intensity of how much I want her is maddening, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Each loss on the ice only fuels my self-loathing, pushing me further into a destructive cycle. Worst of all, I don't know how to break free from her hold.
The guys have noticed my change in behavior, but I can't bring myself to tell them the real reason. How can I admit that some woman I barely know and kinda hate, who has caused my downfall, is also the one I can't stop fantasizing about? I need to get a grip. I have to figure out a way to get Ziggy out of my system, or I'm going to lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.
After our latest loss, the captain corners me in the locker room, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “Elliot, what the hell is going on with you?” Ford demands, his voice low but firm. “You’ve been off your game for weeks. This isn’t like you.”
I force a shrug, avoiding his piercing gaze. “Just a rough patch, that’s all,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant.
He isn’t buying it. “Bullshit. We’re a team, and we need you at your best. If something’s going on, you need to talk about it.”
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to spill everything about Ziggy and the unrest she has caused in my head. “I’m fine,” I insist, my voice sounding hollow even to myself. “I’ll get it together.”
Ford stares at me for a long moment before shaking his head and walking away, leaving me alone with my tangled thoughts and the weight of my lies.
Left alone in the wake of his departure, my thoughts become an unconvincing web of excuses, entangling me further. Lying to myself and my captain presses heavily on my conscience, suffocating any semblance of peace I have left. How have I allowed myself to get to this point? With each passing moment, the gravity of my actions seems to grow, threatening to consume me entirely. The truth, once so clear in my mind, now feels distant and unattainable.
As I stand here, engulfed in the silence of my own guilt, I know that I can't continue down this path. My own fucked up sense of self-loathing is unbearable, suffocating any chance of redemption. Each loss feels like a nail in the coffin of my career, each game a reminder of my spiraling downfall. It's time to gather my courage, untangle the mess I have created, and confront the truth, no matter the consequences. Ziggy has wormed her way into my mind, and it is destroying me from the inside out. I can't let this obsession I don’t even want ruin everything I’ve worked for. I have to face it head-on, confront Ziggy, and find a way to reclaim my focus and my game. It’s time to stop hiding and start fighting for my sanity and my career.