What Lurks in His Eyes

Chapter 21: The Fights Begin

Song: Shoot to Kill by Tommee Profitt (feat Quivr)

*

*

Swords glisten in the sun's warm rays as they clash together loudly. The sand of the arena makes a small dust storm as the first group of four men fight to the death.

They are shirtless; clad in nothing more than black shorts that hang around their waist. Their shorts are held up by a belt, in which their weapons that had been assigned to them sit.

Round one of the male fights have been awarded with swords and daggers. This group, out of the sixteen men, are the weakest of the men. Group four is the strongest, while group one is the weakest. 

Two of the men have tanned skin, while the other is pale and the last is dark. Their bodies, though not too muscular, are lean and in shape. 

Two of the men viciously fight, their faces are tense. Sweat pours down the faces of the two men I'm watching. They lunge at each other like leopards ready to rip their prey's throat out. 

It's a truly animalistic thing to watch, but in moments where it's killed or be killed, what can possibly be expected?

One of the men screams loudly as a dagger is thrown into his chest by the darker-skinned man. The screaming man drops to his knees, and crouches on his hands and knees as he heaves up blood. 

The knife sticks out from his chest, and blood runs down the handle. 

I watch in horror as the darker-skinned man wastes no time in cutting the wounded man's head clean off with his sword. 

Blood pours out like a river from the fallen man's severed head and neck, staining the sand beneath his heavy body. The eyes of the severed head are wide open, and they seem to be staring right through me.

I can't look away.

I just can't.

It's all so shocking that I can't turn my eyes away from the scene.

The crowd cheers, and I lean over the side of my cage and spill the contents of my stomach onto the ground below. It burns my throat and that alone brings tears to me eyes. I start to hyperventilate. I can't breathe. Everything seems as if it is closing in around me, suffocating me slowly.

Panic strangles me as I can't breathe.

At that moment another man is speared straight through the abdomen. The sword goes all the way through and pokes out of his back. His mouth hangs open in shock as he crumples to the ground in his own pool of blood.

He doesn't make a sound as falls on his side, facing my direction. The sword is pulled out of him, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Once the sword has dislodged from him, the killer attacks the other man, who is the darker skinned one.

The last two men know he's done for, so they leave him alone to battle it off.

While everyone is busy watching the last two men fight to the death, my eyes continue to stay glued to the dying young man.

His sandy blonde hair hangs over once eye as he curls up in fetal position. His face is contorted in severe pain, and his hand is clutched over his wound. Blood stains the hand grasping the wound, and his blood leaks out from between his fingers.

My sharp vision notices the tears escaping his eyes as his breathing becomes more labored and shallow. 

My heart clamps painfully as I watch his face full of agony drift away.

The life he once carried in his eyes are slowly flickering out like a dying candle.

And as he takes his final breath, a sob escapes my lips.