Coach Jackson's scolding finally subsided, and I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that the storm had passed. As I turned to take a seat, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. The only available bench was next to Mark, my nemesis, the very person who had injured me in the last training session.Memories of that incident flashed through my mind—the pain of my dislocated knee, the frustration of being sidelined, and the knowledge that Mark had played rough, intentionally targeting me. He was a muscular, stone-faced brute, and the thought of sitting next to him filled me with hesitation and unease.Just as I contemplated finding an alternative spot, Mark's voice cut through the air. "Hey, Victor," he called, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you come over here and join me? Unless, of course, you lack punctuality in this aspect too."Laughter erupted in the locker room, a cacophony of mocking voices that echoed in my ears. Anger surged within me, fueled by the insult and
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