Blue 42 by C.A. Rene
Chapter six
Dixon
Getting out of bed is extremely difficult this morning. I spent half of the night stressing about having to wake up and then the other half convincing myself that I could handle anything. Could I actually handle this though? As much as I’ve been through in my life, this is a first, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling.
I was raped.
Rape. A word I would never really associate with men on the receiving end. I know men can be raped, obviously, but just never like this. I don’t know. I feel detached from myself, like my emotions about the whole ordeal are locked up tight, and I am thinking about it like it didn’t really happen to me. I know why I’m doing that… I’m so fucking ashamed.
It’s an hour before I have to get back to the field and I must force myself out of bed. My stomach is aching where Jameson punched me and I have other aches in places I have never ached before. The feeling that surges up inside of me is crippling but I push myself to keep moving and step into the shower. Once the spray hits me, my body stands rigid and I can’t seem to calm my heartbeat. The water mixed with the feeling of the tile beneath my feet has me tottering on the edge of losing it. It feels like I’m right back there.
My fist hits the tile on the wall and I let loose a scream that’s been trapped in my throat since I pulled myself out of that shower stall yesterday. I let it roar from my chest until all the air is expelled from my lungs and my voice is hoarse. I didn’t work this hard to be brought down by a group of bullies. We are grown and I won’t let them think they got the best of me.
I smash the tile one more time and breathe through the myriad of emotions I’m feeling. They’re twisting inside of me like a kaleidoscope and unfortunately for Avando, anger seems to be the most prevalent. I smear the body wash over my chest and angrily scrub it into my skin, scraping my nails across the surface. I feel my skin become irritated and slightly inflamed, a mirror to how my insides feel. I rinse myself off and slam down the faucet, effectively shutting off the water.
After I have myself dressed and my protein shake in hand, the contents shaking from the onset of nerves, I head out to my car. I can face them and be a constant reminder of what they failed to accomplish, I won’t be chased out.
The drive there is about ten minutes tops, and I blow out my breath as I park my vehicle. This morning, a longer drive would have been preferable, I’m not ready to just waltz in there, and my stomach picks that time to roll. Nausea hits me hard and I press my forehead to the steering wheel.
Get it together.
I grasp the door handle roughly and quickly pull myself out, I don’t want to sit there wallowing. I keep my head down and watch my shoes hit the pavement, one after the other in a slow jog. Each impact, jarring my stomach, and forcing me to harden up my insides. Nothing happened that I can’t handle.
Opening the door, I take my final nervous breath, and drop my shoulders back, nothing happened here yesterday. The thought stays firmly in my head as I pass the weight room and head into the locker room.
“Hey North.” Zeal holds his fist out to me from his seat on the bench, “that was amazing yesterday. Welcome to first string.”
“Thanks man.” I bump his fist with mine.
“You really are fast,” he comes up beside me and leans in close, his hand hitting my shoulder. “They’ll get over it.” He says quieter.
Zeal wasn’t the one that attacked me, but his closeness is chipping at my carefully constructed wall of defence, and that can't happen.
“No worries,” I slide out from under his hand and close my locker, “I got it covered.”
“I know.” He nods with another smile, “today we hit the gym for a few hours and then the field.”
“Cool.” I swallow thickly.
The thought of being in that closed space with the three guys that attacked me threatens that defence once again. I close my eyes as I hear Zeal head off to the gym and breathe slowly. No, they won’t take this from me.
My mom’s face appears behind my closed eyes, the awed look on her face when I bought her new place, and the excitement when she had a proper kitchen to cook in. Then Danny’s face appears, hard in anger, toughened by the very streets I’m working to get him out of, and his eyes saddened with what he’s had to do to stay there.
They won’t take this from them.
My stride doesn’t falter as I make my way to the gym, determination for my family once again blocking out everything else, and I swing open the door roughly, letting it bounce off the wall.
The sound reverberates around the room and I feel eyes on me as I stalk over to the leg press machine. If I can’t take my frustrations out on Avando’s face, then I might as well put it to use in here. I feel his eyes on me and I can tell it’s him because it always feels the same. Like something dark and inky slipping their cold dark fingers along my spine. Thankfully, him and his rape posse don’t say a fucking word because I’m ready to rip out of my damn skin. I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I heard his voice right now.
Two hours later and with my muscles aching, I head back into the locker room and change into my uniform. He’s here in the room because I can feel that same feeling, only this time I’ve expended my energy and I don’t give a fuck. I can feel the anger continue to rise as I get dressed, slamming my locker closed. I grab my helmet from the rack and storm out to the field. I pity anyone who tries to tackle me today, I can’t guarantee their faces won’t be pressed to the fucking grass.
I run towards the gathering second string and Coach blows a quick breath into the whistle, “North, you’re playing with first string today. Might as well get used to them.”
North not Rookie, it’s a start and I can’t deny the pride that squeezes my chest. It’s where I want to be playing regardless of who I’m playing with. Zeal holds out his hand with a wide smile and I firmly grasp it in my own.
“Welcome to first string, North.” His eyes are shining with excitement.
“Thanks, man.”
Just as I’m pulling on my helmet, Avando, Jameson, and Ortiz run onto the field. Avando raises his brow when he sees me in the huddle.
“You lost, Rookie?”
“Coach put North with us today.” Zeal claps me on the back, “and probably for every day afterward. Get used to it.”
I can see the words get to him, get used to it, and he probably wants to bend me over right here in front of everyone, just to put me back in my place.
Zeal begins to tell us our play and I can feel Avando’s eyes boring into the side of my face, that inky darkness trying to consume me. I push it from my mind, concentrating on Zeal, and preparing revenge in the form of outshining the three pricks beside me. That’s what Avando is most worried about with me being here, that I will steal his spotlight, and I’m going to do just that. Then laugh in his fucking face afterward.
Coach blows the whistle and we line up, Jameson brushing my shoulder as he passes me. I run by Avando to my spot, hearing him snarl, “pussy bitch,” as I go. Zeal calls out the play and then I feel the heightened energy as everyone moves into place. The ball is hiked as Zeal steps back into the pocket, then I’m running past the defensive line. Zeal bides his time as he waits for me to get open and as soon as he sees his chance, he’s throwing me the ball.
My fingers glide along the stippled leather surface and I tuck it to my side, running by and watching as a few guys try to catch up with me. My anger, my stress, and my shame are seeping through my feet as I run, slowly leaving my body.
Out of the corner of my eye I see our defensive tackle, Dex Carver, getting too close and so I take my chance, running out of bounds to avoid taking the tackle. The last thing I need is to risk fumbling the ball the moment I hit first string. Heading back to the line of scrimmage, I can still feel the hatred radiating off Avando, but at this point my adrenaline is kicking in and it’s only fueling me to play harder.
At the snap, I take off like my feet are on fire, pushing myself to the limit, wanting to show everyone just what I’m capable of. I can feel someone gaining on me and I look back to see our defensive end - Alonso Lopez - just as he’s diving at me from behind, attempting to trip me up. I hurdle out of his reach just in time and keep on going.
As if our minds are in sync, I turn right as Zeal is throwing the ball my way. I dodge another tackle and watch as the ball spirals perfectly towards me. My heart is thundering in my chest from the exertion and adrenaline, but there's no way I’m missing this. Jumping up and reaching with both hands, I catch the ball in the tips of my fingers. Not wasting a second, I quickly tuck it tight to my body and take off towards the end zone.
My feet pound the earth in a quick staccato and as that end line rushes forward, I scream into the air. This is why I’m here and no one is going to take the love I have for this sport away.
Once we’re back in the locker room, my body is begging for a hot shower, and I refuse to acknowledge the anxiety that’s threatening to resurface. I need to face it and I need to be prepared.
I grab my towel and head into the showers, shedding my clothes into the hamper along the way. Once the cool tiles touch my feet, nausea begins to swirl low in my gut, but I tamper it down and head to the same stall as yesterday. I won’t let my fear rule my decisions.
I hang up the towel and turn on the hot water, waiting for the steam. I step in, keeping my back to the wall, and dip my head under the water, letting my eyes close. The hot water sluices down my back, soothing the tired muscles, and I groan at the feeling.
I open my eyes and see the three of them, my vision blackening with anger. I rush forward, naked, uncaring, and grab Jameson. I use his and the others' surprise; and slam his head into the tiled wall, satisfaction coursing through me as he sinks to the floor.
“What the…”
The sound of Avando’s voice sends the anger soaring and I turn on him, slamming my fist to his mouth; grinning when Ortiz raises his hands in surrender and begins to back away.
I stand over Avando while he’s on his knees and spit at his feet, “I may not act like it, but I’m from the streets, you little bitch. You got the drop on me yesterday because I had my back turned, don’t think I’m soft because of it. I can guarantee, it will never happen again.”
Sebastian gets to his feet and I watch as his tongue snakes out, running along the blood gathering on his bottom lip. My chest is moving rapidly up and down, my eyes never leaving his golden ones. I can see the rage simmering in the amber orbs and I wait for his retaliation. Jameson’s groan from beside me breaks our stare down as Sebastian’s eyes flick to him and then back to me.
“You think you’re street?” Avando sneers.
“You think you’re straight?” I retort and his eyes flare again. “Were you coming back for seconds?” I let my lips curve upward slowly, taunting him.
He takes a few steps back and Jameson stands to his feet, giving me a once over. It’s in his and Ortiz’s eyes that I’m beginning to see respect.
“Watch yourself.” Avando warns and I laugh.
“No, you watch yourself.” I throw back as they leave the shower.
I know how to watch myself and with these guys, I must be on my guard constantly.
