The Degradation

Chapter 4

Milan Kundera said: "Even in the game there lurks a lack of freedom; even in a game is a trap for the players."

"I don't want to be in a trap. If it's losing, then you thought about what will be the victory? I'll want to play with you. Now the question is, do you  win or lose?" - Harry

***

Final whistle – and I'm falling. With closed eyes, I land on the grass with my knees and spread my hands. With hair dripping sweat and a t-shirt stuck to the body. I scored a fucking goal. For ten seconds to the end. I hit so hard I almost twisted my leg. The goalkeeper didn't have time to catch, and I scored. I scored. 4-3. We had won, and I hear hysterical cries around me. I'm slowly recovering my breath. The whole campus is in the stands. My body is shaking with adrenaline, we won the first match of the season. I get up and turn around. I'm looking for my father from the edge of the field. He claps in his hands as proud as the coach. The other players are running towards me and I notice two eyes are stared at me. Green eyes. At the entrance to the locker room. I hear only the beating of my heart. And in less than a second, I'm surrounded by players, and he's gone. The outside world exists again, and I'm raised on my shoulders. Euphoria. We had won.

The locker room is in chaos. We change clothes, we scream, we sing. Guys pat me on the shoulder. I'm the star of the day and I love it. I scored three goals out of four, including winning. I take off my t-shirt and the captain's bandage when the team coach calls me.

"Well played, Tomlinson."

And again, congratulations. Even my father, who came with him, praised me, and this doesn't happen every day. We talk for a few minutes. About the score, the tactics, the next match, and eventually the locker room is empty, and I'm the last one to shower. I'm wrapping the towel around my waist and tousling my hair, coming back to the locker. A paper folded in two protrudes from the metal door.

"Congratulate. – H"

I'm looking around. Nobody is here. I'm alone.

***

Party on occasion victory takes place at the guy from the team. We couldn't drink for a week because of the upcoming match. So now everyone is trying to catch up, and beer disappears before our eyes. I cannot step not a step, without having received in the party of a smile, winking, and congratulation. Eleanor proudly wears my jacket of the captain. Red plastic glasses of vodka are devastated. We're dancing, drinking, playing. The rooms are occupied, and even the stupidest know what they do there.

"I told you! He tied it to the battery, and then he took off."

"With handcuff!"

"Are you sure?"

Three girls chatting in the hallway and I start laughing. I shake my head a little, not to show you how drunk I am.

"Styles is crazy!"

What? From just one name I stop behind them. Leaning against the wall, pulling the phone so they think I send SMS, not eavesdropping on a conversation.

"This guy stayed chained all day, completely naked before he let him out."

I don't know if it's the alcohol, but I'm sweating cold. Some totally drunk girl pushes me to the toilet, and I shudder, releasing my glass of vodka to the floor. I go to the others sitting on the couch in the living room. I think I may too drunk or tired after the match... The music is too loud, they're too many people, voices, laughter, and it all gives me a headache. I'm hot and my head is spinning more and more.