Silent Downfall

Chapter One

The drizzling night sky was partly veiled by dark clouds. The vastness above looked gloomy; it occasionally quivered with suppressed growls of thunder, as if being perplexed by its own ominousness. The forlorn cricket ground seemed to be partially reflecting the wretchedness at the top. Although both teams were now safe and dry, the detritus of the unfortunate event from sometime ago still lingered. 

"What on this earth do you think you are doing?" Mayank groaned like a captive beast as his coach, without providing a satisfactory explanation for the action, plucked him from the dressing room. His light brown wrist was locked under the coach's firm grip.

"Leave me alone!" he yelled again, struggling to chase away from his head the predictions of whatever terrifying experience was awaiting his arrival.

The light stubble on the all-rounder's square face was left alone, and the dark bush of short yet untamed hair adorned his appearance. His eyes, on the contrary, were more like a roughly written book of poetry; life, if they held any, was well concealed from regular minds. The five-foot-ten-inch-tall guy was far away from what one would precisely call a giant, but it could hardly be denied that he looked far too stout to be driven around in that manner. The coach, Sanchit Rodriguez, continued to drag him in silence for a few more seconds; the last drop of his mercy apparently evanesced into thin air following the disgraceful incident.

"Keep your mouth shut and walk!" He at last offered a stern reply without bothering to look back at his intractable pupil.

Mayank held back and pulled his hand with all his might, finally managing to set himself free. He massaged the wrist gently while observing the coach as he turned around, letting his burning glare freeze on him. The Indian all-rounder kept still in the position for a couple of moments before shipping his raven eyes away. "Forget about it. I'm not going anywhere."

Sanchit stood void of words for a while before flinging a short, strict response. "You are coming."

Mayank placed his eyes back on him. "Where?" An unmistakable expression of disgust conquered his face as he spoke. "To the minnow shed, huh?"

The coach's eyes enlarged, signifying that he did not appreciate the rude metaphor. "Minnow or not, you are coming. You got me?"

"What for?"

"You'll apologize to Waseef for what you did."

"Apologize to that cra-"

"Shut up already! You should've thought for a second before acting like a wild thing out there."

The all-rounder rolled his eyes. "That worm should have thought for a second before crushing my foot!"

"Really? This is cricket, not a street fight, just in case you have forgotten. It's a gentleman's game, and we've got to keep it that way. It was unintentional on his part, but what you did was deliberate."

He did not wait for Mayank to reveal his tongue anymore. Confirming a stronger hold of his wrist, he continued to pull him hastily to the opponent's dressing room. Mayank tried to fight back again, ignoring a few pairs of intrigued eyes as they crossed them. The world around him seemed to have faded into nothingness; at the moment, the thorny path to doom was his only reality. The coach was determined to keep his mind off the thoughts of leaving Mayank alone. He was more than done with his audacity.

They were a few steps away when Mayank let out a yelp again, this time in a relatively composed and pleading tone. "Wait!"

The coach stopped and turned around. "What?"

"Bring him out. I'm not going inside and doing it in public."

"Public? Are you serious? It's just them, with no camera peeking from anywhere. If you have such a strong sense of self-esteem, how could you do that on the field, in front of the whole damn world?"