Living With Two Bodies

Living Within Two Bodies - Flight or Flight

Fight Or Flight

The next couple of days passed easily, as my conversations usually mentioned how dreamy Milo was. Seriously, I had never felt like this about anyone. It was like my heart had been lifted, and that if I had any more love I would simply explode. I was still shocked he liked me, I would’ve thought my appearance would have just disgusted and scarred him forever. I was just glad I didn’t have to look at it every day and worry about it, like in school. My dreams were full of desires, not anything dirty mind, just wishes to be free and alone with him, to talk, and be happy. He was everything I wanted, everything I had ever needed in a man. I longed to hear his voice, I grew ever excited at the prospect of training, the only place I would be able to talk to him. Our conversations were normal, interesting, and we were getting to know each other. However, although distracted by this longing to see him, I was forgetting the fact that one day I may never see him again. It made me sad. In fact, it made me more than sad, a worse feeling that would tear me apart. All I wanted to do was protect him, and I knew, as subject of the ‘Prophecy’ I would be the only one who could do that. If I had needed motivation, he was certainly the one that had given it. That sounded selfish, but I would be doing it for Brooklyn as well of course. I couldn’t forget her, she was my best friend. Bubbly and strange, yet with a serious past.

My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar thumping that came down the hallway. Was it that late already? I must have been sleeping for a while. I knew they weren’t here to give out pills, but it seemed that we had trained all too recently. Perhaps they had brought in a new victim, or had different plans. The disfigured silhouette paused outside our cell, unlocked it and entered. No-one made an attempt to escape as it approached me, they wouldn’t get far. I could see its talons glinting in the light, threatening to slice my skin. Clasping its talons around my hand, careful not to make marks, it dragged me out of the cell, much to Brooklyn’s shock and dismay. As I looked back I could see the horrified look on her face as I was pulled away.

  What was going to happen? From her face she either knew something awful was about to happen, or had no idea. I was terrified too, why did I need to go alone? What would they do to me? Questions raged through my head, but I couldn’t answer them. The minutes that followed seemed to be the longest of my life.

Finally we came to a place I had been before. The entrance to The Arena. I knew now what was going to happen. I would be part of a gladiator fight, a real one. I feared who I could be up against, if I was going to die, or live? This was too soon, I hadn’t expected this to happen yet. But I had known it would. I started to panic, fear developing, rippling through my veins, causing my heart to beat faster and harder. It was a feeling that was hard to explain, the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickled and stood on end. My body seemed to be preparing itself, for flight or fight.

  For a while I waited, stood there, until I couldn’t maintain the fear anymore. But soon after this, I felt myself being roughly pushed over to the tunnel. The metal bars had lifted, and vaguely I speculated at why on such a developed spaceship, there was nothing particularly sciency and exaggerated. Pushing this aside, my legs began to walk, walk along the dark passage. I could hardly feel anything. The light at the end seemed to come quicker than before. I waited for the end to come. The bars rose, and I stepped into the blinding light, into The Arena. Outside the dome, the creatures, those who had taken me, filled the seats in silence. This was not some kind of baseball game in which everyone talked ecstatically until the pitcher threw the ball. This unnerved me, as if they expected something of me, although I was aware that this was purely for their own entertainment.

Opposite me, the other tunnel’s bars rose. I imagined some creature leaping out at me from the darkness, but I knew this time it would be someone I had seen before.

And it was.

To my utter shock, Brooklyn blundered out into the open, her eyes on me, sorrowful and distressed. Sadness overwhelmed me, why this? Out of all the people to be paired with, why my best friend? Why would I have to make the choice to sacrifice myself or kill my friend? I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hurt her, and I could tell by the way she looked at me that she didn’t want to either. Reluctantly I stepped forwards, still not raising an arm to hurt her. Following this, I began to feel dizzy. The air around me had become cloudy. I assumed we must have been drugged, and I felt myself slipping into a dream-like state. It was worse this time. I tried to fight it, I didn’t want things to end this way. As I stared into the eyes of my opponent, I felt petrified, yet somehow thankful, that I didn’t have to be put through much more of this. If I lost.

  It felt like I was in a lucid dream, but it was different. Instead of just knowing I was unconscious and in the dream world, I knew that the reality was just beyond my reach. I could feel it, see things slightly, before I plunged back into the realm of unknowing.

At points I could feel my flesh being torn apart, and blood trickling down my body, but I couldn’t feel the pain. Like a horror movie, where if you die in a dream you die in real life. Brooklyn was my Freddy Krueger. Would I have to kill her? I hoped not, but I couldn’t stop myself if I did. I didn’t want to think about it, but I had no other thoughts that would bring themselves to my attention. Every move she made, every step she took, I was watching her, I could hear her, so many of my senses awake. I felt my body dodge hers, her killer lashes out at me, the blows that could kill me. But I was fighting back. I couldn’t bear it, couldn’t handle it, but I was. I was trying to kill her just as much as she was trying to kill me. In desperation I tried to stop myself, to stop myself making such a huge mistake I was already aware of.

Before I knew it, I was coming back to consciousness. In delight I thought I had stopped myself, and we were both going to be fine.

How wrong I was.

In front of me, lying on the floor, was Brooklyn’s body. Covered in blood, the sight was horrific. I was disgusted in myself that I was capable of causing so much pain, especially to someone who was my friend and I cared about. Her body was smothered in lashes, blood dripping onto the sandy substance on the floor. Her arm was twisted backwards, the wrong way. Remorse filled my heart, swallowing up every other feeling I had ever felt. No more would I hear her helping voice, or listen to her positive take on life. She was still, as was I. Something wet trickled down my face. A tear. Then two, and afterwards, more, until the tears fell into the ground, merging with the droplets of blood that I had made.