The squeaking sound of grinding gears awoke me from my trance, the slithers of sunlight peaking from under the iron pocket door. It's difficult to look at, bordering painful, but I don't wince nor do I avert my gaze. Who knows when I will see the light again; this time may even be my last.
I don't know how long I've been in here, trapped within the solitude of darkness. I just know that it's been long enough for me to confuse day with night, sleep with waking, life with death. I don't even know if I'm alive now, or more to the point, if I ever was. I don't live - I merely exist. I exist to fight. It's that or death.
Every day it's the same routine, or rather I believe it is. With nothing to count they days going by except for the odd meal that may or may not be presented to me, my sense of time has been distorted beyond reality. My once few wisps of chin hair have weaved itself into a tangled flurry much like a birds nests and my once short cropped hair has grown to the length of a lady's. Despite this, my body has also undergone a considerable transformation in more than one way. I came in a lean soldier and now I reside as little less than a bulky brute. My armour strangles my flesh, whatever little is left of it and whatever skin is exposed is tattooed with the scars of battle-wounds and cakes with blood that is not my own.
Even in the darkness, my memories stay as vivid as the day they happened. Each cut, hack and saw. Each trickle, splatter and gauge. Each stab, feint and jab. All of them replay over and over again, fresh in my mind, driving me to the brink of insanity. Each memory haunts me and even my dreams aren't safe. Staying alive itself is a nightmare and staving off sleep does little to help with the boredom, if anything at all. My mind is cluttered. There's no escape. They make promises. Compromises. Deals. But nothing happens. They slowly watch your brain uncoil until there's nothing left but pure savagery. Nonetheless, I still remember the day I was dragged in here - the day I was thrown into this pool of obscurity.
It was my first battle and sometimes I wish it had been my last. It was my first real taste of combat. I had just graduated into the Spartan army, the first step into manhood, the prime of my life. We were at war, per usual, and as a newly graduated soldier, I was thrust into the front line. It was then that my vision faltered. We were always fed propaganda that Sparta was at its peak but as I watched the Romans hack down each of my comrades, one after the other, I knew that we were quite the opposite. We weren't at the pinnacle - we were in our dotage.
As soon as I realised that, my adrenaline flooded out of me. I might have been brought up with lies but I wasn't raised a coward. The thing was, even before I could raise my sword, my lights went out and by the time I awoke, I was carted off, packed claustrophobically alongside my other surviving comrades before being sealed into my new fate of tenebrosity - the fate of the Colosseum.
Since that fated day, I have not since suffered a loss. It's almost ironic. Back at training, whenever we sparred, we were always ordered to attack with the intent to kill. Here, there is no intent. There just is. It's kill or be killed and as painful as it is to murder the ones you ate together with, laughed together with and lived together with, there is no room for mercy. It's their life or yours and by the will of Mars, my life has since been spared.
The pocket door has now creaked halfway and my eyes have ever slightly adjusted. I can already feel the warmth flooding through me, driving out the nagging fear, adding to my resolution. My eardrums pop at the introduction to the ambience of the outside world - the world outside my impenetrable cage. I can already hear the whoops of the crowd outside and I know that I will face them soon. Face their jeering remarks. Face their threats of death yet none of them would ever have to courage to face me alone. They stick in the crowd yet aren't afraid to call you a coward. It's despicable. It's sickening. But it's the only thing keeping me alive.
I slowly roll onto my hunches before standing up. My joints are stiff but there's nothing I can do about it. All I can do now is face the roaring crowd and the next comrade I will have to fight. The one I shall kill or be killed by.
My eyes scan the crowd as I finally step into the sunlight. I make sure to cast them the dirtiest looks I can muster, after all, that's all I've been able to practise in solitude. I stare. I scowl. I glower. But it only makes the crowd go wilder. It's then that I ignore them.
Suddenly, the crowd falls silent and I watch as my opponent walks onto centre stage. We give each other a curt nod as we ready our weapons and wait for the Emperor's approval to start. He too gives us a curt nod and within a second I feel my legs spring forward, my arms outstretched ready to deal the finishing blow. Our blades flash and then it's over. We pause waiting for the next step. We wait to see who will fall first.
I wince as the wound registers within my mind, the blood gushes out of my side but I stay frozen in place. I don't look but I can tell the cut isn't serious. It's barely a graze but the force behind it was enough to knock the wind out of me. I can't show weakness though - half the battle is in the mind. It happened so fast, it normally does now, more out of respect than actual agility. None of us wants to kill each other but there's no other way. The easiest way is a nice clean cut and whoever falls first is the one to succumb to death. Not by the wounds but rather by the displeasure of the Emperor. The Emperor who has all the power of the world. The Emperor who's thumb controls life and death itself.
Locking my lips, I steady my breathing as I see my sweat pool together with the puddle of blood before me. A new wound. A new scar. A new tally for all the lives I've taken. My knees quiver underneath my weight but just as I'm about to collapse I hear a rattle of metal against stone and I know I've won. What have I won exactly?
Well... I've won the right to live another day. I've won the throne to another manslaughter. I've won another ticket to the nightmare of my cell block.
