Playing the Game

Chapter 1: A Murderer's Pride

My eyes shot open as I shook violently. I was breathing heavily as I scanned my surroundings, looking for the body that the horrific scream belonged to.

Bash was lying down with his back to me, strategically placed as far away as possible in our tiny cell. I crawled towards him, ignoring the pain that shot from my knee and medicated wounds, afraid of what I'd find.

"No, no, no!" I whispered hastily, "It was supposed to be only a nightmare!"

I stuck my fingers under his chin, searching for a pulse beating through the skin around his neck. Before I could find it, he startled awake.

"What is-"

At the sight of me, he bolted upright. He didn't run, nor did he glare with hatred; he just stared at me blankly, but I could tell that he was afraid. I was getting better at reading people these days.

"I'm sorry, Bash. I thought-... well, I don't know what I thought."

He nodded faintly, "Yes, yes. That is fine."

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, that is fine."

We remained silent for some time, not knowing what to say to one another. I decided to let him off the hook.

"Right, well I'm going to get some air. You go back to bed."

"Very good."

I stood carefully, backing away as to not startle him again. When I got to the cell door, I hollered to get the guard's attention. I was thankful to see Corvin on duty.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our bloodthirsty champion!"

"Don't be unkind, Corvin." I uncomfortably shifted on the balls of my feet.

He shrugged, "I thought you'd like the title. Wasn't that the whole point in killing Lucius? To be one of Tiberius' champions?"

"Yes, but I don't enjoy spilling blood to the point of death."

"But that was your condition. Last man standing..."

I had no response to this. He wasn't wrong, and denying it would only be foolish.

When he got tired of waiting for my answer, he spoke again, "Anyway, what is it you want?"

"Can I please get some fresh air?"

"You know the rules; no leaving the cells until sunup."

"Please Corvin, I'm begging you."

"And suppose you try to escape?"

I sighed, "Where would I go?"

"After that stunt you pulled this morning, you could easily take me out and scale the cliff wall to freedom."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Corvin, look at me. I'm in no condition to do anything of the sort. I can barely take ten steps without stumbling or halting for need of breath."

It wasn't an exaggeration. After Tiberius beat me and had me tossed over the cliff, and then later fighting to the death with Lucius, I was in really rough shape. My broken nose, wrist, and dislocated knee were freshly healing, both my eyes were swollen to the size of peaches, my skin was black and blue with bruises all over, and the cuts on my abdomen and forearm were patched with some sticky medicine to stop the blood from pouring out. I was sure there were other injuries in need of attention, but some had become almost normal to my body after the weeks of torment I'd encountered since Marcus' capture.

Corvin looked me over carefully. He wasn't convinced.

"Please, Corvin. Just for a few minutes. You can shackle me if that makes you feel any better."