The Swift Playbook

Part 8

Justin's frustration festered over the next few days, turning into a storm that brewed inside him. Each morning, he woke up to the same reality: no football, no freedom, just the four walls of his home closing in on him. He felt like a caged animal, his pent-up energy boiling over in the form of anger.

One afternoon, while Maddie was busy with her homework in her room, Justin stormed into the at-home gym. The space was usually his sanctuary, a place where he could work out and blow off steam, but today it felt like a prison. He grabbed a dumbbell, lifting it high before slamming it down onto the mat, the sound echoing through the empty space. Each clang reverberated with his pent-up rage, his mind racing with thoughts of his parents' disappointed faces and the suffocating weight of his punishment.

"Ugh!" he yelled, tossing another weight against the wall. It thudded loudly, making him wince as he saw the small dent it left behind. He was furious—not just at his grounding but at himself for letting it go this far. It was supposed to be a temporary punishment, a chance to learn a lesson, but all it had done was make him feel more isolated. He wanted to lash out, to break free from the constraints that felt more like chains every day.

At school, the tension spilled over. In the hallways, he snapped at classmates who bumped into him and was quick to throw down when someone made a passing remark. His friends, usually the ones who had his back, started to pull away, wary of the volatile energy he was bringing into their circle.

"Dude, what's up with you?" Kyle asked one day after Justin shoved a kid who had made a comment about him being grounded. "You're acting like a lunatic."

"Mind your business," Justin snapped, fists clenched at his sides. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want anyone telling him how to feel or how to act. He was tired of being the one on the sidelines, tired of feeling like everyone else was living their lives while he was stuck in limbo.

The fights at school didn't go unnoticed. Teachers began to worry, and he found himself in the principal's office more than he'd ever wanted. The first time, the principal shook his head in disappointment. "Justin, I understand you're going through a rough patch, but fighting isn't the answer. You're better than this."

But Justin couldn't see it. He was too consumed by the anger and frustration that had taken over his life. Each time he found himself in a scuffle, it felt like a temporary release, a way to unleash the chaos inside him. But afterward, the guilt crept in, deeper and more suffocating than before.

At home, Maddie confronted him one evening as he paced back and forth in their shared space. "You need to chill, Justin. This isn't helping anything. You're just making it worse."

"I don't care!" he shouted, frustration pouring out of him. "I'm tired of being stuck here! I'm tired of everyone treating me like I'm a child!"

Maddie sighed, crossing her arms. "Maybe if you stopped acting like one, you wouldn't be grounded."

Her words stung, and for a moment, Justin stood frozen, the weight of her truth hitting him harder than any punch he'd thrown at school. He didn't want to admit it, but she was right. This wasn't just about the grounding—it was about how he had chosen to respond to it.

"You don't get it," he mumbled, his anger giving way to a more profound feeling of despair. "I feel like I'm losing everything. I can't even be on the field with the guys. Football is all I have."

Maddie softened a bit, sensing the shift in his tone. "Then find a way to deal with it without lashing out. Talk to someone. Coach, a counselor—anyone. You can't keep hurting yourself like this."

Justin ran a hand through his hair, her words echoing in his mind. Maybe it was time to stop fighting against everything and start figuring out how to make things right. But he didn't know where to start, and the thought of facing his parents after everything made his stomach twist.

As days passed, he continued to struggle with his emotions. The anger didn't fade completely, but with Maddie's encouragement, he began to channel some of it into workouts instead of fights, pushing himself harder in the gym, hitting the weights and the punching bag until he was exhausted. Each swing and each lift helped clear his mind, even if only for a moment.

But deep down, he knew he needed to confront the situation—his punishment, his anger, and his parents. If he ever wanted to regain their trust and feel like himself again, it was time to stop running and face the music.