Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Marcus’s forehead as Coach bellowed, “Marcus, you’re moving to right guard. Johnson, you’re out.” The bile in Marcus’s throat tightened. Johnson, the golden boy, always had everything handed to him. Now, Marcus would feast on the scraps of his glory.

He slammed his helmet onto the turf, the impact echoing the fury blossoming in his chest. He would make Johnson’s life a living hell, even if it meant risking his own chances at a scholarship.

During drills, Marcus let his shoulder pads connect with brutal force against Johnson. He enjoyed the subtle flinches, the barely contained gasps of pain. He would subtly make Johnson's blocks fail, leaving the quarterback exposed.