Chapter 95: The Dead Vessel

Kieran’s pov

The noise inside the Crestwood gym was way too loud. Thousands of students sat on the big benches. They waved blue and red flags in the air. The bright lights on the ceiling made me feel hot. The school music band played our fight song over and over. Everyone was stamping their feet on the floor, making the whole building shake.

I stood behind the big stage curtain. I held my two metal crutches tightly under my arms. I had to look hurt for the crowd. I took small, slow breaths. My broken ribs did not hurt at all. My shattered ankle did not feel a single thing. The secret medicine from Europe was working too well. It kept all my pain inside a frozen cage.

Suddenly, the curtain moved. Milo and Landon ran inside my small hiding space. They had very big smiles on their faces.

"It is time to go out, Captain!" Milo shouted loudly. He grabbed my right shoulder pad.

Landon took the other side of my body. They walked with me onto the bright stage. Principal Vance stood near the big microphone. He clapped his hands with joy when he saw me. He pointed his finger toward the bright spotlight.

The moment the students saw me, the room exploded. The sound was like thunder. The floor shook under my feet. The students yelled my family name over and over. They hit their heavy boots against the floor. To the whole school, I was a beautiful miracle. They thought I was a true hero who did not give up.

I forced a big smile onto my pale face. I had to play the part. I had to follow the script my father made for me. I lifted my right hand to wave at the crowd. But then I looked down at the very front row. I saw Aveline standing there. She was not clapping her hands or yelling my name. Her face was completely pale, Her eyes were wide with pure terror.

She knew my quick recovery was a dangerous lie.

The stage event finally ended. I walked back into our locker room. The heavy double doors shut out the loud noise from the gym. The room was quiet now. The players stood around their stalls. We were getting ready for the big final game.

It was time for our special captain's ritual. This was a long Crestwood hockey tradition.

The players made a tight circle in the middle of the floor. We passed around black and silver permanent markers. Each player stepped forward to sign the sports gear of his friend. They signed the chest pads and the shoulder protectors for good luck.

Milo stepped up to me first. He held a silver marker in his right hand.

"Sign my shoulder pad, man," Milo said with a smile.

"Give me some good captain luck for the game."

I took the silver pen. I drew a deep breath to calm myself down. But the moment my fingers touched the plastic marker, my hand began to shake. It vibrated violently like a loose electrical wire. My fingers had a mind of their own. They twitched and jumped out of control. The high dose of the nerve-blocking drug was ruining my muscle movement. My pen scratched an ugly, jagged line across Milo's shiny gear.

Milo stopped smiling. He looked down at my trembling hand. His face looked very worried.

"Whoa, Kieran," Milo said softly. "Your hand is shaking very badly. Are you okay, man?"

Landon walked closer. His smile went away too. He watched the muscles in my arm jump up and down.

I had to make up a lie immediately. I forced a small laugh from my dry throat.

"It is just too much coffee," I lied smoothly. "I drank three cups before school today. Also, the pre-game nerves are very bad. The big final match is making my adrenaline bounce around."

Milo believed my lie instantly. The worry disappeared from his face. He looked at me with pure, innocent admiration. He hit my shoulder pad with his open palm.

"Hell yeah," Milo said happily. "If our great captain is nervous, we must play twice as hard. We are right behind you, Captain. We will lift that golden trophy together."

The kind words felt like hot fire in my throat. My best friends showed me true loyalty. They gave me absolute trust. But I was returning their love with a dark deception. It was a heavy weight in my chest. They looked at me like I was a strong leader. They did not know they were looking at a hollow shell. They did not see the ghost inside my uniform.

The long school day finally came to an end. The black estate car picked me up from the front gates. The driver did not say a word during the trip. When I arrived the house was dead silent. My parents weren't around.

I walked slowly up the stairs to my pr bathroom. I took off my clothes, standing naked in front of the tall glass mirror. My skin looked very pale under the white lights. Big blue bandages were wrapped tightly around my broken ribs. Thick white medical tape covered my shattered left ankle.

I walked over to the shower. I turned the metal knob all the way to the red mark. Thick, hot steam filled the small room instantly. The glass doors became cloudy. The water roared out of the showerhead. It was boiling hot.

I stepped into the hot stream of water. My right leg instantly felt the high temperature. The skin on my right thigh turned bright red from the heat. It felt like fire.

Then, I moved my left leg under the hot water.

Nothing happened.

The boiling water poured over my left thigh. It ran down to my left knee till it hit my shattered ankle But my brain did not feel a single thing. There was no heat. There was no pain. My left leg felt like a block of cold wood. My skin started to look white and blistered under the boiling water, but my mind felt completely disconnected from my own flesh. My nerve endings were completely dead. They were trapped in a dark sensory vacuum.

A deep, terrible fear settled into my stomach. The psychological dread was heavy.

I stepped out of the shower. I did not wipe the water away. I saw a heavy metal flashlight sitting on the marble counter. I reached out and grabbed the cold iron handle with my shaking right hand.

I swung the metal object down with all my strength. I hit my left knee cap with a loud, dull thud.

My leg did not move. I did not flinch. My muscles did not twitch. My body had no natural reflex left.

I lifted the iron flashlight again. I swung it down harder this time. I hit the side of my shattered ankle bone. It was a brutal blow. A normal person would scream in pure agony from that hit.

A dark, purple bruise started to form under the wet surface immediately. But I felt absolutely nothing. I just watched the bruise grow on my skin like I was looking at a painting.

The horror was too much. I began to breathe fast. My chest felt very tight. My body was literally turning into a dead corpse, but my mind was still fully awake inside my head.

My father's sick obsession had successfully turned me into an unfeeling monster. I was just a tool to carry a hockey stick for sixty minutes on the ice rink.

I knew the terrible truth now. The chemical wall inside my blood would not last forever.

My room started to spin around me. I leaned my back against the wall staring down at my bruised, dead leg.

Suddenly, three loud knocks hit the door.

"Kieran?" my mother's gentle voice called out. "Sweetie, are you okay in there? You have been in the shower for a very long time. Your dinner is getting cold on the table."

My heart hammered violently. I looked at the heavy flashlight in my hand, looked at the white blisters on my dead skin. I had to keep the secret safe. I'm still going to play the game.

"I am fine, Mom!" I called out, forcing my voice to sound normal. "I am just finishing up. I will be out in a minute."

I reached for a dry towel with my trembling fingers. I began to wipe the water from my body, preparing to face whatever the world throws at me.