Page 32 of King of Pain
“I know the pro league isn’t your path,” he says, not unkindly. “But I can tell you’re giving it your all. That’s what matters. The team needs players like you for a successful season.”
“I appreciate that, Coach,” I say, my shoulders easing slightly.
He nods, then leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “So, tell me. What’s the plan after graduation? Still thinking sports talent management?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, my voice steadier. “My goal is to eventually start my own agency. I want to represent athletes who are serious about giving back to their communities.”
Coach’s eyes brighten with approval. “That’s a hell of a goal, son. You’ve got the right mindset for it. Still need to lock down an internship, though, right?”
“Yes, sir,” I admit, my stomach twisting slightly.
“Alright,” he says, nodding. “Stay focused. I’ve got a few contacts at local agencies. I’ll put some feelers out, see what comes back.”
I blink, caught off guard. “You’d do that for me?”
“Damn right I would,” he says, his grin wide and genuine. “You’re a good kid, Pacini. You’re always welcome on my field, whether as a player or as an agent.”
The words hit me square in the chest. “Thank you, Coach. Really.”
“Go on,” he says, waving me off with a chuckle. “Don’t keep the books waiting.”
I leave his office with a little extra spring in my step. The future doesn’t feel quite as uncertain now, and for the first time in a while, I let myself feel good about where I’m heading.
As I near my dorm, my thoughts drift back to Chance. The way he’d looked last night, relaxed and laughing. It’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone in, and I’m still not sure if I’m ready. But something about him feels safe, even when it shouldn’t.
Back in my dorm, the exhaustion from practice hits me all at once. I toss my bag onto the chair by the desk and flop down onto the bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against my overheated skin. I set my alarm for later in the afternoon, knowing I’ll need to wake up for weight training with some of the guys.
Sleep claims me quickly, pulling me into its depths, where the nightmares I can’t escape are waiting for me. At first, it’s just darkness, calm and still. Then it shifts. The darkness fractures into a grid of black and white squares, each one glowing faintly. I’m surrounded by them, trapped in a maze that stretches endlessly.
A voice cuts through the silence, high-pitched and mocking.
“Little Tony… Little Tony…”
The words echo, bouncing off the squares, growing louder and louder until they’re all I can hear. My heart races, my breaths coming faster. The squares seem to close in, the light flickering erratically, and the voice continues, taunting me.
“Little Tony…”
I jolt awake, my heart hammering against my ribs, the sheets tangled around my legs. Sweat clings to my skin, cold and sticky. I just sit there, breathing hard, trying to shake the remnants of the nightmare.
“Fuck!” I shout into the stale air of my dorm room.
Will I ever be free of this?I wonder, running a hand through my damp hair. The familiar weight of it settles in my chest, but I push it down, grateful that I don’t have a roommate to witness this. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s a text from Butters.
Butters:Still on for the gym?
I let out a breath, relieved for the distraction.
Me:Yeah, be there in 15.
The remnants of my nightmare creep back in, starting with the smell of incense. Sharp, sweet, and overwhelming, it clings to everything. Then, the hollow echo of my own footsteps as I creep through the church, avoiding certain hallways, certain doors. In the attached school, I lock myself in the cold, tiled bathroom stalls, pressing my knees to my chest.
Hiding was second nature to me back then. A reflex, a desperate attempt to make myself invisible. But no matter how far back I tucked myself into the shadows, it was never far enough. I could still feel their eyes, their presence, their power pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t escape.
The whispers. The sidelong glances. The unspoken words that lingered in the air, heavy with the truth everyone knew but wouldn’t say out loud.
I was their favorite.
I toss the sheets aside, walk naked to my dresser, and pull on some underwear, a pair of shorts, and a gray T-shirt. I grab mygym gear, and head out the door. The thoughts of the nightmare linger at the edges of my mind, but I push them aside. There’s work to do, and I can’t let anything hold me back.
