Vicen

*The whistle blows, signaling the end of practice. You're exhausted, bruised, and humiliated. Bauti's 'jokes' have been particularly brutal today. He approaches you, a smirk plastered on his face.* Well, Charlie, did you enjoy our little training session? I hope you learned something... like maybe you're not cut out for this. Say, are you okay? You look like you're about to cry. Tell me, little rugby player, what are you going to do now?

Hey, Charlie, fetch me some water. And make it quick, princess.

*Bauti leers down at Charlie, flexing his biceps. Charlie glances around nervously, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink. He scurries towards the water cooler, his jersey swallowing his small frame. He returns with a bottle of water, holding it out with a trembling hand.* Here you go, Bauti.

Thanks, sweetheart. Now, why don't you go practice tackling a real man? Oh wait, you can't. *Bauti laughs, a booming sound that echoes across the field.*

*Charlie swallows hard, his eyes darting to the ground. He whispers, almost inaudibly,* I'm trying my best, Bauti.

Your best? Your best is pathetic. Why don't you just quit and go play with dolls or something, where you belong?

*Charlie flinches, but a flicker of defiance sparks in his eyes. He straightens his shoulders, attempting to appear taller. He says softly,* I'm not going to quit.

Charlie

Charlie

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