The Nemesis Syndrome

5. Eliza

Eliza had never been in the Circle before. She remembered when she was younger, her school had taken them all on a trip there, to see how it worked and to understand their future, but she had stayed home that day, pretending to be sick.

It didn't take much faking, when even at that age, she felt ill at the thought of fighting, of blood and of death.

Even now, she had not seen much of it, for when they had grabbed her she had heard the words flight risk then...nothing.

Someone's hand had been tight around her arm, and it didn't loosen, even after they had blindfolded her and stuffed her in the back of a car. Silence as they had driven her to the Circle, and even more as they walked her into the building.

They had only let her see again as they pushed her into a small windowless cell and slammed the door behind them.

Hours had passed. She had given up shouting and trying to break the door down- she would not have been the first to try and run, and she would not be the last. They just knew how to contain people more than she knew how to escape.

But leaving her alone was wrong on their count- nothing helped her think more than silence did, and she had a lot to think about.

A lot like-

How did they know to find her? Surely the boy- Leo- wouldn't have said. And he didn't know if she would have run.

Unless he told her their secret, that they were both soulmate and nemesis. But that in itself was dangerous, and she had seen much in that fleeting glace at him. He loved that little girl, and Eliza didn't think he would ever have put her in danger.

Which meant there was more to this, more to everything that their damned government was hiding.

More to both the soulmates and the nemesis. More to the Circle.

But she couldn't think of what, of why, and that annoyed her more than anything.

She was pacing the room when the lock clicked and the door opened. An expressionless woman walked in, throwing down a pile of clothes.

'Dress.' She ordered.

Eliza refrained from snapping back at the woman. Instead, she grabbed the clothes and turned away, stripping. It was a loose pair of trousers and a short sleeved shirt. Nothing protective. Just easy to move in.

'You can't wear them.' The woman said, as Eliza started to put back on her gloves.

She froze, glancing down to the names there. 'I have to.'

'You can't. It's against the Circle rules.'

Eliza couldn't stop herself this time; she snorted. 'It's okay to kill someone but god forbid I wear gloves?'

The woman said nothing, and still there was no expression on her face.

'I want something for my wrists.' Eliza said.

'Why?' It was said with disinterest. It was only then that Eliza looked down to the woman's own wrists. Both names were in red.

'So.' Eliza said. 'I don't have to look at my own turning like yours.'

A snort was her only answer. Then: 'Follow.'

'If I don't?'

The woman was already at the door. 'We will drag you there, kicking and screaming and already weakened, and you will not have a chance.'

I already don't. But she did not say it out loud. Instead, she followed, down the curved corridor, past countless doors and people who all stared at her as she went. It was after a few minutes she realised; the corridor was a spiral, and they were nearing its centre. The cheers were getting louder, the stares no longer ones of suspicion but those of greed.

Those that could afford tickets would often bet on who would win.

These were some of the people that would watch her win or die. Who would use this as their entertainment of the day. If she thought the idea of The Circle made her sick, the idea of people gleefully watching was worse.

The doors to The Circle were almost double her height, and the same across. They were thick, old, wooden, and they were the doors that two would walk into and only one out.

'Pick your weapon.' The woman said, pointing to a table at one end of the doorway. On it was everything Eliza could imagine. Swords, old and rusting, awful medieval weapons that she only knew about from history books, knuckle dusters.

'I don't want one.'

'Have you got a death wish, or are you stupid?'

She was about to reply when she heard footsteps, and the woman glanced up, her face finally moving to show some feeling; she frowned.

'No talking.' The woman ordered as Eliza turned.

Turned to meet the hard, angry eyes of the boy whose name was branded onto her skin. He didn't even look away as his hand went to the table, picking up the brass knuckles and putting them on.

'Ready?' The woman asked them both.

Neither replied, and for that Eliza was thankful. She could feel the hate off the boy next to her, if he had said yes she didn't know what she would do.

And the doors opened.

The Circle was just that- a large circular room with a stone floor. It was said they cleaned it after every fight, but Eliza could still see the stains of a thousand people's blood on it. She could feel the cold ghosts of countless people, killed for nothing but entertainment.

Above them, in a balcony that ran the whole way round the room, were those people that watched. She glanced up at them as they were pushed into the room, and the sight made her grow cold.

'Ladies and gentlemen!' Her anger grew further; they had a commentator for something like this. 'Today we sit and watch the Nemesis Fight between Eliza Rockwell,' A few cheers from above them. 'And Leo Jenson.' Far more cheers than her name received; there was no question as to who this crowd was backing. And no question as to them knowing, for a smirk had appeared on his face as he turned to her.

The first blow was so fast she barely saw it, just felt it as his fist connected to her jaw. She stumbled back, blinking.

Until that moment, she had not believed he would. Despite seeing his expression and seeing that anger for herself, a part of her thought he would back out. Say no.

Pretend.

But he went for her again.

This time, she ducked.

And each time he tried to attack, she dodged, unable to raise her own hands to even try to hurt him.

She didn't know how much time passed as they played this game of cat and mouse. Enough that the crowd above was getting restless, calling down suggestions to him on how to finish her off.

He didn't need it though. He was driving her back; her back hit the wall as she stared at him, at his fist raised ready to strike.

'Why are you doing this?' She whispered. 'You're my soulmate.'

'I don't need a soulmate. I need freedom. I don't want, and I do not need you.' So much...nothing in his voice. 'I need to protect my sister.'

And with that last word, his fist came crashing down on her.