Radioactive

Part 6: Buffet

Hello, everybody. Sorry I haven't written in a long time. My only excuse is life, so yeah, sorry about that , and I'll try to write as soon as possible, ok?  This part isn't really long, but I hope you like it. :)

     It feels as if I've lied in this cage for hours, and the cold metal ground makes me shiver. At least the other Fives have stopped watching me.

     I see two Fives walk into the pit.  This is the last fight, I see it in the way the Fives walk; they have fought many fights, and both think the other doesn't stand a chance. Only the strongest or most arrogant Fives fight the last fight. the confidence livens the crowd of middle-aged, worn-out men and women. Only adults stay this late, because this is the time when the Tattoo take children and teenagers. Of course, the audience knows what's going on, that we aren't here by choice, but they try to ignore it. They would rather pretend we weren't children like their little Bobby and Susie, that we are some disgusting and undeserving species undiscovered until society collapsed. It's easy when they look at our sharp teeth, our unnatural eyes. Perhaps that's why the Tattoo have made us so different, so that the crowd doesn't feel sorry for us.

    I've seen people walking in. Their eyes meet mine and they go blank, cold, and unfeeling. You aren't like me or my children, their eyes say, you can't be, so what are you? You are nothing but something to enjoy, part of something to take my mind off this world. This isn't wrong, it can't be, because you're not human, right? Right?

    I can see the battle in their face, and I'm never surprised at the hollow, glazed look that comes to their eyes as their conscience loses and they take their seat and turn their attention to the fight.I shake my head and force my eyes to stop making that same look as the crowd.

    I stare at the pit, at the Fives tearings limbs off each other, spraying blood all over the grey walls, staining it with another layer of graffiti.  You see, as much as Tattoo members scrub at the blood on the walls, it stains the walls, just as it stains the minds of those who inflicted the pain, creeping in slowly, lingering on the surface for only an instant before seeping deep in, where no one could ever wash it out, even with all the apologies and soap in the world, a stain impossible to get rid of. One Five finally wheezes his last breath when the other slams him into the ground, finishing the last of his strength.

    The crowd leaves quickly, running through doors and disappearing into allies and houses, their departure leaving us with nothing but wounds to feel and  time to wonder how much longer these people will be seeing us. How long until we are  simply remembered in smears of blood on the wall and a Five grateful for the new powers he or she has? Those haunting thoughts fill up our minds, but not our stomachs.

    "Time to eat, Fives," yells the Tattoo at the door, and he opens the door. I wince at the drawn-out, high-pitched, nails-on-chalkboard sound of the metal door scraping the floor. I run out the door last, but I am the first to the pit. The pit is filled with raw meat, hundreds of pounds. I try not to imagine where it came from, and try to lie to myself that it's beef or chicken. My stomach growls, silencing my mind and reminding me to shovel meat into my mouth. It seems that the only good thing about being a Five is food. Since we eat first, we all get to eat as much as we can. Getting to the pit first just means you get the biggest, juiciest pieces of meat. I am the first.

    I gulp down three pounds of meat before tiny hands snatch  a piece away from me. I glare at her and prepare to claw the meat away from her, then hesitate. It's the girl I've been talking to, the one without a name. Before I can decide what I'm going to do, she swallows the piece and grabs another, watching me, her claws tightened around the meat. I look at her shaking, bony hands and  her pathetic attempt at being intimidating in trying to make her body taller and eyes meaner. I sigh and grab a bigger piece from the pile and tear at it with my teeth. She finishes her piece and eyes mine. We make eye contact and I narrow my eyes.  

    "There's enough here, so don't take mine," I say. She swallows and runs to the other corner of the room, finally finding a pound of meat and hiding in the corner of the room to eat it. I've never bothered to do that, since I've proven to be stronger and meaner than everyone that's tried to fight me, except Callous Resistance. I think of Callous Resistance's strange icy eyes and imagine those frozen eyes and the colder soul behind them disappearing in a fight tomorrow. But thinking something doesn't make it true.