Chaeyoung‘s back collides with the metallic locker with a bang. The pain that shoots up her backbone drives hot, thick tears to her eyes. Biting on her lips, she stares at some spot on Nayeon‘s forehead in order to hold in her tears.

She must look like a deer in headlights right now. Just the sheer image probably is hilarious to Nayeon.

“Is this a joke to you?”, Nayeon hisses. She squeezes Chaeyoung’s wrists so tight her knuckles turn white. Chaeyoung closes her eyes, breathing lowly and in huffs. But she doesn’t give in. She might look like a victim and feel like a victim, but she’s not putting herself under her. (Not again, anyway.)

“So, who did you bribe to let you win, huh? The tall referee?”

Her lips start to quiver the second Nayeon refers to Jeongyeon.

Don‘t cry. Don‘t cry. Don‘t cry.

Nayeon’s lips curl into a grin, but she doesnt release her grip. Does it give her pleasure, to see Chaeyoung suffering like this?

Or does she loathe losing so much she doesn’t care?

“Did you let her you? Did little Chaeyoung get on her back to win a match?”, Nayeon asks, her mock sympathy accompanied with a fake pout. It turns her usual pretty features into a mask. “You're ing disgusting.”

Chaeyoung lets out a little gasp she immediately wishes she could have held back. Worse enough that Nayeon could hurt her physically, now she got to her heart, too.

She recalls Jeongyeon’s rejection when she poured out her heart to her one week ago (when she still had hope Jeongyeon would return those feelings), and now the wrongful accusation stings so much.

She doesn't deserve this. Jeongyeon doesn't deserve this.

“Let me go”, Chaeyoung manages to say, not strongly, nor calmly, but without crying. And that's a start.

“Why?”, Nayeon asks. Her eyes have turned dark; the fun she had in the sitatuion has vanished completely. Chaeyoung’s guts turn themselves inside out. She feels like prey thats no longer fun to play with and is about to get eaten alive.

“You know what?” Nayeon continues when Chaeyoung doesn't answer, “I think you need a lesson.”

She roughly turns Chaeyoung around without losing contact to her wrists; Chaeyoung’s right cheek is now uncomfortably pressed onto the locker. She barely feels the metal, however, she concentrates too much on what goes on with her right arm, the one she beat Nayeon earlier with. Nayeon still has it in her grip. Judging by the sudden pressure on Chaeyoung’s neck, Nayeon must be holding it in order to avoid any motion on Chaeyoung’s side.

“Lets see when youre going to play tennis again”, Nayeon sneers, almost playfully grazing Chaeyoung’s right arm.

And in a harsh, careless motion, she pulls.

A silent sob escapes Chaeyoung’s mouth when she feels bones breaking in her body.

And then, finally, the tears come.