aw maaan
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"See ya next week, coach. Have a good night."
Dominic dragged his half-dead feet to the driver door of his shitty Toyota Corolla and swung the door open with a limp arm. He had just finished the season's first real practice, and he couldn't be more tired. Even with all the fatigue, some sort of smile seemed to break through the acne and bruises. After all, could life be any better?
He had finally been accepted into Penn State. On a wrestling scholarship, too! He wasn't starting, but it was certainly something. His grades were good, his relationship was going great, he was working as hard as he could to be a state champion this year, just like the last, and he was dominating on the mat.
After unlocking the trunk, he threw the sweaty gym bag, shoes, and towel into the trunk of the car and slammed the hatch shut, shuffling to the front door and sticking the key into the ignition. It wasn't the prettiest car, but it got him from home to school, and from school to practice. That was all he needed out of it, really. Dominic cued his Bluetooth to play some unusually soft music, Led Zeppelin and The Beatles, and began the drive home.
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Once settled in his room, he flopped almost dead onto his bed and raised his phone up to check whatever he had missed during practice. It shouldn't have been much, really, but he was slightly surprised to see a picture from Zoe. With a slight smile, he pressed the notification, revealing three pictures and four videos.
He couldn't have been more upset or horrified if Satan himself ascended from hell and planted himself before him.
It was Zoe, his dearest, closest person in the whole wide world, no, the universe, with some guy. First, it was them on a dinner date. Then, a video of their fucked-up "foreplay". Then, what she did for him to get him in the mood, and videos of what they did afterwards. The last picture was of her, on her knees, with a fluid on her face and a grin from ear to ear.
A feeling he hadn't felt in so many years, as if he needed it again. Except it wasn't as bad last time.
He felt his throat immediately squeeze shut and his legs start to shake more than they would during a dehydrated run. His arms and torso began to shake just as hard, hard enough that when he rolled to one side, the box spring below him gave out and rolled him off of his bed, leaving him a sobbing, shaking, shocked mess on the messy floor below him. He must have been there for a half hour, totally unable to stand or think right. So much fear, so much anger, so much sadness, the emotions were confusing to him.
The only thing that kept racing through his mind was, "Why? Why again? What have I done to deserve this again? Why?" His pain was immeasurable. He thought he'd throw up. His stomach didn't feel too good after seeing it all, but no physical symptoms could ever show the hurt in his heart. No matter how much he cried, shook, coughed, or wailed, nothing could amount to the sharp pain in his chest.
The next day, he skipped school, a rare occurrence for him. His teammates texted him angrily, asking why he had missed their lift that morning and study hall in the evening. Zoe, absolutely dead to him now, texted sweetly and asked why he wasn't at school that day, telling him he missed him and asking if he was sick. Needless to say, she didn't receive a response.
