The Westridge football team walks the streets, searching for victims. The pre-season tradition—players can purge their sexual desires in a one-night fucking frenzy—has resulted in four consecutive premiership wins. No one reports the pack rapes, the deaths. All this town sees is the trophy.
Not me. I have a different purge in mind. From my bedroom window, I aim a rifle at the team. Tommy leads the pack. We’ve shared a kiss, talked about a future. He promised he wouldn’t partake. He lied. They all lied; town expectation their excuse.
My excuse? I hate football. Why complicate things?
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