The Unnaturals (Discontinued)

Three.

Yay another chapter! Happy holidays guys! ❄️❄️❄️
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My handler led me through the labyrinth under the arena. I could hear the noise of the crowd above, cheering on the next fight. I wondered if the fire-eyed boy cheered or simply watched.

We started to ascend to where the fighters were kept, the roar of the crowd receding to silence. I ran a hand over the rough stone walls. My chest throbbed, the skin not knitting itself back together like it should. Nothing healed quickly anymore.

We arrived at a familiar silver plated door.

"In you go, halfbreed," my handler sneered and shoved me into the room, bolting the door shut the second I passed the threshold. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness.

"Sang!" I heard the familiar voice of Grace call. I saw her head of dark curls bouncing towards me a moment later.

"Hi, Gracie. Is everyone back?"

"Yeah, you were the last one. You look like shit." She brushed her fingers lightly across the claw marks in my chest. I flinched.

"I fought Dexter tonight."

"Did you win?"

"Yes." She narrowed her eyes.

"Did you have to bite him?" I huffed a sigh.

"Yes." Already I could feel his silver-saturated blood climbing up my throat, my stomach angry at its contents.

"Sang! We talked about this. You can't keep drinking from your opponents. It's going to kill you!"

"Grace!" I retorted, matching her tone. "I throw it all up anyway. And I have to win, you know that."

"One day you'll stop throwing it up. Believe me." Grace flashed me her fangs and hobbled over to her bunk. Ever since her leg had been injured in a fight, I was the bread winner. I glanced at our other two roommates. Jason was twelve, too young to fight but old enough to work in the kitchens. Elie just turned fifteen, she had begun fighting and was winning just as much as she lost. They had been huddled together, talking quietly, but now they looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. Or rather, my chest, still dripping blood. I huffed another sigh.

"I'm going to go clean myself up," I announced. Elie stood up.

"Do you need help?" It would be better to go to the bathroom as a pair, but judging from her split lip and bruised cheek, she had had enough for one night.

"No, I'll be fine. How did your fight go?"

"I-I lost." I nodded, not really knowing how to comfort her.

"I'll come with you, Sang," Grace spoke up from her bunk. "I have to pee anyway."

We walked (Grace limped) out the back door into the main hallway all fighters' rooms had access to. I could hear crying and laughing, people morning the deaths of their friends and celebrating victory. Handlers stood every three doors or so, monitoring the traffic of the hall. There were only a few people out, many were still waiting for their fight or sleeping off injuries in their rooms. We walked the short distance to the co-ed bathroom, which was thankfully empty. The second we entered I sprinted for a toilet stall and emptied the contents of my stomach into the bowl. When I was done, I wiped my mouth and flushed, not wanting to look closely at the mix of gray and red. I went to the sink, snatching a tube of toothpaste from Grace's outstretched hand.

"I was wondering when that would happen," she chuckled. I put a glob of paste on my finger.

"I thought you had to use the bathroom," I grumbled. I brushed my teeth and spit into the skink, rinsing the mess with water. I didn't dare take a drink from the sink, though. I had learned my lesson years ago. That water was stuffed full of chemicals; I had been sick for weeks.

"You just fought Dexter and won," Grace said. "I'm not letting you go anywhere alone for a while."

"Thanks. How was your fight?"

"I was up against Kendra." My eyes met hers in the mirror.

"How did that go?"

"I didn't get the shit beat out of me, so it could have been worse." By her tone it was clear things could not have been worse.

"You should try talking to her."

"I have no desire to talk to my ex-girlfriend who got me involved in all this shit. Besides, it's been years. I'd have no idea where to start."

"Point taken." The door to the bathroom clanged open, making us both jump. In walked a boy a few years younger than me. He looked at us briefly, then scurried to the showers. Neither of us relaxed until the sound of water running filled the bathroom.

"I heard there's a delivery of new fighters tomorrow," Grace whispered. I took off my shirt and began examine the wounds on my chest. They were partially closed and no longer profusely bleeding. They would needed to be cleaned out to avoid infection, but at least I wouldn't have to reopen them.

"So?" We weren't suppose to talk about this. Markel, the owner of the fight ring, didn't like when we knew when trucks were coming in. Some of us, like me, were not fighting by choice and would be eager to shut the ring down. Our escape threatened his whole operation. I yanked a few paper towels out of the dispenser and wet them in the sink. The chemicals might make us sick, but they helped keep infection out of our wounds. I pressed a soaked towel to my chest and let out a hiss.

"Just making conversation." I knew exactly where she was going with this.

"I'd prefer if you didn't." I couldn't leave my roommates. And while Jason and Eli could potentially escape with me, Gare couldn't. Not with her limp. I continued to clean my wounds and Grace helped occasionally, getting more paper towels when I needed them. The gashes had started to bleed again, and a trail of silvery blood trickled down between the valley of my breasts. We wrapped my chest up in dry paper towels, Grace expertly wrapping the ends of the makeshift bandage around my wings before tucking them into my bra so they would be secure. It wouldn't last long, but hopefully I would have no more than scars by morning. I glanced in the mirror, inspecting my chin, but it had already scabbed over.

I was pulling my shirt over my head when the bathroom door burst open. Grace hissed and helped me get the shirt on faster. I looked into the mirror and locked eyes with Dexter, who was glaring daggers at me.

"What do you want?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Hello, birdie," he sneered.

"Like she said, the hell do you want?" Grace snarled, looking like she was ready for a fight.

"You humiliated me."

"It was nothing personal," I said. My fear was rising. A fight in the arena was one thing. Here, there were no handlers, nothing to stop him from killing me slowly.

"I fucking know that! Doesn't mean there won't be consequences." The grin he was giving me made my blood run cold.

"Request to be her opponent next week, then leave her alone. I'm sure you would love a rematch just as much as the crowd," Grace practically snarled. I grabbed her hand and squeezed all my gratitude into it.

An alarm went off, signaling we had ten minutes until curfew. Dexter let lose a growl and backed up towards the door.

"See you later, birdie." I didn't move until the door slammed shut behind him. The second it did I sagged against the counter, a hand over my pounding heart.

"Don't worry, Sang. You won't have to fight him again."

"What makes you so sure?" She smirked.

"The crowd doesn't want to see you kick his ass twice." I attempted a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Next week he'll fight someone new and forget all about you."

"I hope so."