A dry cold seeped into my bones. How long had I been here? I attempted to lift my arms, but couldn't feel them. Oh, God. I clenched my eyes shut trying to think, only to open them back up to a darker darkness. I shivered.
Special J. Oh, hell, no. They couldn't just do that to me. H told me he wouldn't put her in the hat. He told me that she could escape it. He promised she wouldn't grow up to be like me, that she could be normal. My eyes stung, as if someone had punched me in the nose with brass knuckles.
Today was going to be one hell of a bloody day. I wanted to kill H so bad. I wanted to kill Jared Sigger. I wanted to kill the Warren. I wanted to kill them all. Adrenaline fueled me and I strained my entire body to find I was restrained somehow. Damn, they had already began the games. I chewed my lip, thinking of a distant plan. Think, think, think...
You are the winner, duh. You will keep your straight face. Win the fight. Sit in the winners circle, and then clench your fist around that bastard's throat so tight his eyes pop out... No, calm. Calm, fight, win. You've got this.
After some time had passed and meditation leveled my blood pressure, a warm draft swept up from the floor. My eyes shot open and a dull light illuminated the damp room.
A thick Australian accent called someone, "Blood Round! Here she is mate, tally 'er down, wrap her up and send her on out. Fifteen are goin' in. Starts in five."
"Thank you, Johnson." I knew that voice. "She may be a little pissed right now, so we'll need a little help getting her out." I hated that voice.
"Ahh, have to tranquilize 'er now did we?" Johnson chuckled deeply. "Then let us help you take the winner to her first fight in years." He didn't sound so friendly.
A face appeared over me, my lip curled into a snarl. "Oh she's definitely going in green. Just look at that lack of concentration." The two men traded looks and burst into a thick, fake laughter. I swallowed my fire and relaxed my face. A bead of sweat formulated on the back of my neck, he was right. I was taught to show no emotion in a fight. And here I was, breaking my own rules. How out of practice was I?
Clammy hands grabbed each of my arms, they hoisted the steel table I was on vertical. My skin shrieked in agony as my weight held me down in the shackles that were digging into my ankles, ribs, and arms. Ouch.
Then cold metal clamped around my throat and my eyes bugged out. There it was. Every official, operator, and associate of the Fights had this contraption. It was a makeshift metal stick, more or less, with a handle that could trigger the prongs on the opposite end to close. They were the least deadly and effective way of holding down participants that got a little too heated during the Fights. And boy did they sure make you feel like a dog on a leash.
"Woah , there girl." Johnson released my straps and table-cuffs, I fell forward and landed on my feet. "Nice an' easy now, don't you think?" I shot him a side glance through watery eyes as I wheezed. He smiled slowly and loosened the grip on my throat. A fresh stream of air hit my lungs and I coughed.
A hand slapped my ass and my eyes went wide as I straightened into fight stance. The second man that came in with Johnson got up in my face. His breath stank of liquor, and his blue eyes sent shivers down my spine. 'I hate you' was the only thought in my head. He stood there for some time, looking into both my darker colored eyes. I corrected my pokerface and stared blankly back at him. I didn't fear him, at least not anymore. He ruined my life. He ruined Special J's life. He was dirt to me. He was going to die by my bare hands.
"That's the face I like to see on my winner, " He grinned.
I growled.
"Three minutes!" An animated voice called from the distance. "Blood Round, three minutes! Place your bets now..." It faded, as if it turned around to direct the more feeble minded bidders.
"Let's get her to the crates," The blue-eyed man gave me a sinister grin. I stared right back. Johnson started towards the door, pushing me through with the metal rod he had me attached to like a fish on a pole. I silently swore on Special J that I'd win this and get her out before she was thrown into a Blood Round and it was too late.
