Sasha Scott

Chapter 7

A shorter chapter today. I hope you'll enjoy the reading !

« Scott, you're not going in. »

Harvey's voice takes me out of my thoughts and forces me to take my eyes off my shoes. They've never looked as interesting to me as they have since I walked into the locker room. After what happened last Saturday, I was terrified, what am I saying, absolutely petrified at the mere thought of going back to training and facing the stares. When I joined my teammates, I couldn't find the strength to explain to them the whys and wherefores, and I'm not even sure I can put into words what I feel in a crisis. Yet, I would have liked to apologize, even if only to start a dialogue and break the ice, I would have liked for once to be able to open up to others but no words came out of my mouth. I just cowardly stared at my feet. In fact, I managed brilliantly not to catch any gaze, at least not until Harvey's, just as I was about to touch the stadium pitch. It didn't take me more than a second to notice how angry she was. I don't have the time to express my incomprehension that the coach is pursuing.

« In case you've forgotten, you deliberately used violence against a player on the opposing team last Saturday. Of course she knows ! To be clearer, you threw yourself on her, put your hands on her throat and tried to strangle her. You got that ? Did that refresh your memory ? »

I grit my teeth and swallow my saliva.

- You and me, she continues, pointing her index finger at me, we'll have a discussion about what happened on the last game, but for the moment there's no way you're going to carry on training as if nothing had happened. You're lucky you have good teammates and that Roy didn't press charges because if it was up to me you wouldn't be on this team anymore. Right now, I'm suspending you for three weeks.

I chuckle. Three weeks ! Surprise, then anger and frustration took over. Harvey's not really the cause of it. I know perfectly well that this is all my fault. There's no doubt that I deserve to be punished. Only Harvey is there, right in front of me, almost in the wrong place, at the wrong time, telling me bad news... the need to externalize is stronger than I am and as usual I let myself be carried away by anger and by my bad temper without thinking for a second about what might happen in the next moment. I get closer to Harvey and stare at her eyes with a black look.

- You should have listened to yourself and fired me... because I quit. »

Coach immediately loses her confidence. I watch her face decompose in surprise. Her mouth opens but no words come out. Her reaction does nothing to appease my anger but at least it is enough to bring me some satisfaction. I don't wait for her to come to her senses. I turn my heels sharply and take a determined step towards the exit.

* * *

          Drops are beading on my forehead. My tank top, drenched in sweat, sticks to my back. I've been mistreating this poor punching bag for almost two hours now, yet my fists are still pounding with the same force as when I began. Boxing has always been one of my favourite sports outside of football. Not really being a tongue-tied kind of person, I used to regularly fight with classmates when I was a kid. One day, my father got tired of me coming home with bruises all over my body and said that if I couldn't stop myself from getting into fights, I should at least know how to defend myself properly. So he enrolled me in boxing classes for a while and, paradoxically, the fights at school stopped. Boxing was enough for me to get rid of the week's problems. I love soccer more than anything, but there's nothing like a good boxing workout to clear my head. And right now my head is way too full.

I throw jabs, hooks, uppercuts. I follow it up with a back leg whip. I put all my power into it and a scream of rage escapes me. I'm about to do a back jab when a voice rises in the air.