You Ruined Me Nicely

I took a deep breath and stared at the shiny ice rink, the kind that looked deceptively calm but would swallow you whole if you let it. The judges whispered among themselves, students were flooding in, and my heart wasn’t nervous, it was buzzing with that electric thrill you get when you know something big is about to happen.

The ice had always felt like home to me.

Some girls believed in diaries, others found comfort in music or late-night phone calls. But for me, it was always the ice. It spoke to me in whispers, soft, cold, and clear like it knew all my secrets but promised never to tell. It never lied to me, it only reflected what I gave it.

Tonight mattered more than any of my past competition.

This wasn’t just another performance. This was THE performance, the one that decided whether Briarcrest Academy’s benefactor board would keep paying for my education or quietly cut me loose. The one that decided whether I stayed in Westbourne… or went back.

Back to the wretched town I clawed my way out of.

I clenched my fists as thoughts of how horrible my life was in my poor town before I came to the big Westbourne city flooded my mind. Back there, kids used to corner me on the playground, chanting "whore's kid" because of what Mom did for a living, shoving me into the dirt while laughing like it was the funniest thing. I muttered under my breath,

“Hollowbridge… I can never go back to that rotten town…never… I－”

A tap on my shoulder snapped me out of my thoughts, I turned around and saw a familiar face. It’s my best friend, Emily Daves, the daughter of Marvis Daves, the famous CEO of Daveslink.Co Ltd, a big multinational fabric company, not she mention she’s also a popular influencer and celebrity so yeah…she’s literally a walking golden spoon. I haven’t told her of my past yet and I have no plans to.

“Earth to Hazel! Hazel!”

She waves her hand in front of my face to grab my attention.

“Huh? Sorry were you saying something” I said, blinking at her. She put her hands clearly debating whether to lecture me or hit me for spacing out.

Before she could, a familiar scent hit me from behind; expensive, warm. Arms slid around my waist, confident and practiced.

Ashton Rourke. The famous teen model. My boyfriend.

He murmured near my ear, low and teasing, “I swear, I can’t keep my hands off you.”

I elbowed him lightly. “You’re gonna ruin my makeup, dufus, and I worked very hard to look effortlessly stunning.”

He laughed and stepped back, hands raised in surrender, even dressed casually, Ashton looked like a magazine cover that had learned how to walk and talk. He gave me one of his dazzling smiles, the smile that had stolen billions of his fan’s hearts, mine included.

“You’re gonna crush this,” he said. “I believe in you.”

I tilted my chin, pride setting comfortably in my chest. “Oh, don’t worry. I know.”

It wasn’t shocking that someone like Ashton had noticed me. I’m good at figure skating. Very good. Talent recognized talent. Or at least, that’s what I told myself when the cameras flashed and the whispers followed us down the halls.

I didn’t notice the way someone else’s gaze lingered on my back.

Burning. Filled with envy and malice.

The microphone crackled to life, snapping the crowd to attention. The president of Briarcrest Academy greeted the judges, cracked a few jokes, basked in laughter. Then his voice boomed;

“Please welcome our famous ice skater, the Velvet Blade of Briarcrest Academy, Hazel Rowan!!! to the rink!”.

Students roared and cheered, the judges clapped as I stepped onto the ice rink, letting the cold embrace me. Emily cupped her hands around her mouth, “Break a leg!”.

I took it as a joke. At that time I didn’t know her words had a different meaning behind it.

I stood at the center of the rink, heartbeat syncing with the opening notes of the piano. And as the melody swelled, I closed my eyes as the blades of my skates sliced through the frozen surface, drawing silver threads of grace that faded too fast like all beautiful things do.

The music rose, soft piano becoming thunder, my body moved before my thoughts could catch up. That was the magic of it. Out here, I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling.

One spin. Two. Three. Applause echoed like distant rain. I didn’t hear the claps. I felt them.

The world blurred. My heart leaped before I did as I prepared for the final jump. The one I’d practiced and done a thousand times, one could call it my signature move. The one that would complete the story I’d painted across the ice tonight: the story of a girl who clawed her way out of poverty, the girl who refused to let life’s cruelty define her.

I pushed off.

Air.

Silence.

And then－

Crack.

Not the ice.

It was me.

A hot burning pain tore through my hip, white-hot and immediate. I didn’t just land; I collapsed and bashed my forehead against the ice, hard. I heard the crowd gasped, the music still playing, soft and cruel.

I tried to get up but I couldn’t move.

The lights felt too bright now, the ice too cold. My fingers trembled against the surface as I felt a warm thick liquid rolling down my cheek onto the ice. This ice felt alien beneath me. Like it didn’t know me anymore. The irony almost made me laugh.

I saw blurry faces rush toward me. My coach, Emily, Ashton, A medic and even one of my skating rival, was it Chloe?…I could barely think or remember anything. Their voices were muffled, like I was under water, my head was throbbing, and even breathing became a difficult task.

“Hazel?! stay awake-Hazel, look at me please!” Emily’s voice pierced the haze.

But I couldn’t look at anyone. My gaze was stuck on something else ...

My reflection on the ice.

For the first time, the girl staring back at me didn’t look graceful or strong anymore. She looked shattered, broken. Like a fragile doll, fractured across the frozen surface I had always called home.