SURVIVE

Chapter: 1

This is what I look forward to and dread the most.

The air warmer due to the multiple, living, bodies around you. Just radiating with heat, rolling off them in waves. The air surrounding you, filling in your lungs when you inhale. The look your opponent gives you, trying to analyze you. To find your weakness. The look the person your about to kill gives you when they think they have a chance of survival. When, in truth, their chance of survival is nonexistent. They just don't know it yet.

I take a moment to dwell in the feel of my blood pumping threw my veins, the beat of my heart inside my chest, the pounding of my pulse against my neck, the adrenaline heightening my senses ten fold. Turning me into a predator.

The bell above our heads give out a shrill cry signaling the start of the match. And of course like the idiot my opponent is, charges full speed at me right off the back.

Idiot. It's like he wants to die...

I bend my knees getting ready for the take down. Breathing deeply to calm my pounding heart. Not from fear. From the thrill of the soon to be kill.

As he two feet away I swivel to the side grabbing his arm and using his momentum to throw him over my shoulder. He lands with a thud looking dazed from the impact.

Of course he's dazed, he just got the wind knocked the fuck out of him.

I smile at my own thoughts while watching him get up and shuffle to face me. He starts to think and slowly, cautiously walk towards me in a fighting stance.

He's starting to wisen up. Be careful. Don't underestimate him. Don't get too cocky. Cockiness gets you killed. Stay focused, let him strike first. He has you on strength, but you could run circles around him. Use it to your advantage.

He rolls his right shoulder then throws low with his left, landing a hard blow to my side only getting my hipbone because I leaned back at the last second trying to avoid the hit. Taking a step back I take inventory on his attitude.

He's smirking like he's already won and hopping around like a retarded bunny that got too cocky when it escaped the wolf. He starts throwing play punches like the wannabe boxer in a cliche movie.

When he throws another play punch I step forward and throw a left hook sending him stumbling backwards while landing a combo punch: right, left, left, right, left, right. All to the face, one after the other, throwing all of my weight into each punch. He hit the cage wall falling to the ground. I step back and wait for him to recover. I need him to run at me to finish this match.

And he does just that. Running full speed, powered by anger and embarrassment. Bending my knees I get ready. Like last time I swivel at the last second, but this time instead of throwing him, I grab his arm and pull him back so he looks like he's in the middle of a back bend. Then I move my hands down to the back base of his skull and chin. With a quick twist, just a flick of my wrist, his neck makes a snapping sound followed by his body falling limp to the ground. No pulse. Dead eyes. Lifeless.

The bell rings signaling the end of the match, almost didn't hear the bell over the cheering of the crowd.

They make me angry. Not sick. Not sad or scared or even proud. They make me angry. They laugh when someone dies like its entertainment. Then again it technically is entertainment to them...

And they call us the monsters...

I'm escorted to the infirmary to get my side and hands bandaged up.

"Why hello Province! How was the death match, did you have fun?"

This is the first question Dr. Sosiou (so-see-oh) asks when he sees me. His name really says it all.

"Afternoon doctor psycho, dissect anyone recently?" Not too hard to tell how much I hate him. He thinks its a cute little nick-name I gave him because of a nonexistent crush I have on him. The real reason? Dr. Psycho is easier to carve into his chest than Dr. Psychopath or Dr. Freak show when I kill him one day. Which I do plan on doing some time in the near future. But he doesn't need to know that...

"Hahahaha! Oh provie! (Prah-vee) such a flirt!" He laughs putting his hand on my shoulder rubbing it with his thumb.

If you don't get your disgusting hands off me right now, I'll be carving Dr. Psycho into your chest a lot sooner than planned...

As if hearing my thoughts he removes his hand and walks over to get the gauze to wrap up my injuries.

Ten minutes later I'm walking to the mess hall to get something to eat. Since I had to walk by my cell to get to the mess hall from the infirmary I stop and grab my duffel so I can stock up on food. I don't like to eat in the mess hall because being the only girl here can give the rookies the wrong idea...

"Hey, bitch!"

Like right now.

I was halfway through the mess hall when one of the new, over confident, fresh out of the stocks fighter wants to look tuff.

"Sit down before you get hurt..."

I look to see this coming from one of the top fighters in A block, Ajax.

He's what you would call a senior. He's held the tittle fighter about as long as I have, and he's seen me fight...

I've seen him get in a scruff here and there but never in the ring.

Not good odds if we ever get put on opposite ends of an execution course.

The rookie is smarter than he looks when he listens to Ajax and backs down. When I make eye contact with him, I nod my head in thanks. I might not have seen him fight in the ring but in what little fights I have seen him in I do have to respect him for. He fights calculated and efficient. Waste no time in taking out his opponent.

In other words if we ever get put on opposite ends of an Execution course...I'm screwed.

I continue to the kitchen and get my usual supply and head back to my cell block.

Ah...sanctuary.

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It's been a while I know, but I write when I get inspired and It's not always for the same book every time. It's geting closer to summer  so more updates Most likely. Won't promise anything but I'll try.

~MJ