My fist smashes into his face before my hockey stick even hits the ice. I see red. Literally. I always thought that was just an expression, but right now the crisp white ice looks blood red. I’m in a frenzy, throwing jabs and hooks at Ryan as he tries to cover up. I get in a couple direct hits. The smash of my knuckles against his face is the only thing that brings any relief to the incandescent rage that’s burning all over me.
