CARNIVORE [MxM+]

Chapter 1

Tycho Black.

"Hut, Hut!"

Bang.

I swivel on my right foot and turn just in time for the ball to make harsh contact with my stomach. Out of instinct I wrap my right arm around it and cradle it close to my chest, like a baby. Then I push with all my might and run. 

Bang.

My body jolts as my shoulder makes contact with a defending member who's launched away from me. My shoulder hurts after but I ignore it and pump my burning legs. This time no one's in front of me, but the safety's seen me now and he's getting ready to do his job.

Bang. 

I hit the fifty-yard line with the ball still tucked and my legs still burning. The safety- Blake, I think his name is, has sprung into action and is closing in on my right. I brace the same shoulder again just in time for him to throw himself at me and use his hands to snake around my body, creating a viper-like grip around my midsection; he isn't strong enough, though. I stumble from his momentum being thrown to my right and almost step out of bounds, but he's fallen off of me and I keep running. 

And for a moment I'm just running and running towards the end zone. And for a moment I think to myself, there's a reason I'm first string.

Is there? 

Bang!

A crushing weight collides with my back and I hit the ground, my helmet making first contact with the humid turf. My mind lurches and my forehead throbs, but I block it out. Because I failed again. 

I roll off of the ball just in time to see Ashwyn, our team's right outside linebacker, get up along with me. I can't believe it. Someone as slow as him can catch me and I can't make one measly fucking sixty-yard run. I already know the schools regretting my full ride. 

"Good run, man." Ashwyn huffs above me, his lanky frame blocking out the sun that was digging its heat into my eyes just a second ago. Ashwyn offers a hand, but I don't take it. I never do. I remember why I don't (I don't deserve the help) and then all of a sudden I can't breathe and I'm a failure all over again. 

I roll quickly and ignore Ashwyn's sound of disappointment and wobble to my feet. Because my legs burn and my lungs burn and my shoulder hurts and I can't breathe. Even though my mind knows its a trick I can't help but panic at the asphyxiating feeling that I feel at every little fucking thing and I hate it so fucking much-

"Good work, Black! Get back up and let's do it again!" Coach Roy's voice meets my ears and stalls my mind and for a second I can breathe. But only for a second. 

I ignore my aching body and break out into a jog to the large water dispenser we use for breaks during practice. My lungs still wheeze and I can't help the drop in my heart every time I don't get a full intake of breath. But I tell myself it's nothing and let myself wallow in my fear. I tell myself I deserve it. 

......

"Practice really is somethin' else lately, I can barely take this shit."

"Yeah," there's a short pause, "it sucks but you gotta take it. Too late to quit now, yeah?"

I hear a sound of agreement from who I think is one of our middle linebackers. He's new and young but good at what he does. How good? I don't know. Activity buzzes all around me as showers are turned off and on and lockers are slammed and doors are shut. The team is alive with conversation, mainly focused on the beginning of the new season in a few weeks. For once, I don't dread something. As much as I'm terrible at Football, I sure as hell am confident at it.