CARNIVORE [MxM+]

Chapter 1 [Revised]

Tycho Black.

THE SKY. THE CITY. So many lives, all active at once.

A deep breath in.

The roads are filled with traffic, to and from work, to and from home, to and from human interaction. Everything and everyone is alive.

Another deep breath.

A college, bustling with students. It's later in the day, classes are ending, and everything else is starting. A sharp inhale.

Active. So active.

There's a building, tucked away in the far corner of the campus, called Greshur Fieldhouse. It's where the sports teams of Greshur State University go to train. GSU is recognized for its exceptional skills in American Football, Basketball, and various minor sports and clubs.

"You'll do well here, Tycho."

"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. I rush upfield, and 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. I stumble from his momentum, being thrown to my right and almost stepping out of bounds, but he's fallen off of me, so I keep running.

And for a moment, I'm just running and running towards the end zone. And for a moment, I can't help but 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. The ball is under me, but I still have possession, sacrificing the first layer of skin on my arm that slides painfully across the ground. My mind lurches and my body throbs, but I block it out because I failed again.

I roll off 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 school's regretting my full ride.

"Good run, Ty." 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, my lungs burn, and my shoulder hurts, and I can't, I can't breathe, and 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-