Fear Arena

Complete

In the beginning, demon fighting wasn't a sport. Crowds didn't show up to watch the arenas, bets weren't made on your odds. But every day, someone, half insane with their demons agreed to be the entertainment. But one day some sick bastard decided to bet on the man fighting in a doctor's office. The medical team agreed get in on the bet. The patient won against all odds and the winning bet got five thousand pounds. But never mind. Thinking about fighting only makes me worse. I'm up next. And I am nervous enough already, my heart is beating so fast I'm afraid I'll die. If I lose, that's what will happen anyway. I can hear the people from where I sit in the back room of the arena. They are screaming, chanting, my name. I don't want to go out there, I don't want to expose myself. But going to the arena is free, and in the black market I'd have to pay ten thousand pounds for the procedure. My mom is sitting next to me, holding my hand and crying. I don't have the courage to look in her hazel eyes and tell her her attitude is only making me feel worse.

"You don't have to do this, Melissa." She sobs. She doesn't get it. She doesn't know what it's like to feel trapped into your own body, to start crying suddenly, afraid to move, knowing people are staring at you in the street wondering what's wrong with the crazy teenager.

It ends tonight. Tonight, I create a record. Tonight I will be the youngest ever on the arena. The rules are simple. Kill your demon or die trying. My hands start shaking. The attack is coming. I run forward.

The door opens so fast it bangs against the wall and bounces shut. In the arena is a chair you could find in any dentist's office. It's all back, and velvety instead of a plastic fabric. The doctor looks up as I enter. His eyes are sad. He doesn't agree with this any more than I do, but he doesn't have a choice either. He gives me his hand. He feels the shaking. He can see my wild eyes. They burn. I'm about to cry. He leads me to the chair and I sit. He looks down at me with pity, sympathy and regret. He prepares the needle for the serum.

"What's your name?" I grab his hand suddenly. I need a link to someone else right now.

"Jared." He fiddles with the needle, but answers after a long second.

"Thank you, Doc Jared." He's not that old, probably about twenty two. Age doesn't mean a lot when you're an arena doctor, besides, they only assign newbies here anyway. Something about toughing up. As Doc looks into my eyes trying to calm me while attaching the electrodes to me, I hear another voice. The mc's.

"Today's fighter is Melissa Schneider from Willesden Green, London. She is seventeen and suffers from PTSD due to a car accident when she was a child." The crowd claps and shouts. "Good luck" and "You're going down" are just a few of the things being told. It creeps me up that some of these watchers are betting on my death. I won't give them the satisfaction. My heart beat shows up in a large screen in the middle of two others which will display my simulation.

"You know, if you were eighteen I'd ask you on a date." Doc Jared says unexpectedly. It distracts me, which was what he wanted.

"Flatterer." I smile, my heart rate calming slightly.

"Be strong, be brave, and remember the rules. What you can do in here, you can do in there. Try to win as fast as possible, otherwise your heart will give out. And if you do survive, I will definitely ask you out when you turn eighteen." He says with a wink. I laugh, surprising even myself. He injects the serum on my neck and I close my eyes.

I am no longer in the arena in front of ten thousand people. I am in a forest, grass beneath my feet. I am wearing jeans with sneakers and a green blouse with a leather vest on top that laces in front, sort of medieval looking. On my left, I see a bunch of weapons, arcs and arrows, swords and knives, guns, shotguns, all sorts of things. I take a deep breath. I trained for this for months. I grab a utility belt with a leg strap and start shoving shuriken, a small gun, and several clips into the pockets. If the crowd feels bored, the ammunition and weapons will vanish, so it is always better to stack up. I grab whatever I can. I have three minutes before my demon enters. A tree next to the armoury has a digital clock. How, I do not know. I grab all the pouches possible and strap 'em up with ammo. Before I can grab more the simulation shimmers, and they are gone.

"The crowd doesn't like your fastidiousness." Doc tells me through the computer link to my brain. Only I can hear it. It doesn't show up on-screen for the masses. The clock ticks zero. The day turns into night. I grab the two long knifes first.

I hear a shuffling. I kneel behind a tree and close my eyes. Its thread is deep. Heavy. From that I conclude it is larger than me. I take a peek, the demon's red eyes glow in the dark. I forget to breathe for a moment. It hasn't seen me. I get up. The knife's handle has turned warm on my grip. I throw it towards its chest. It's a direct hit, but we all know guns and knives can't hurt the demon much. It can confuse it, of course, distract it even, but not kill. Only my bare hands around its neck can. It howls. The full moon shines down into the medium sized clearing. It knows where I am. I run, towards another tree, I throw the other knife, it hits its neck. Not where I am aiming. In the blink of an eye, it's in front of me, pushing me hard to the clearing. I bit my tongue, I can taste the blood. My heart is so fast I have trouble hearing. The demon comes into the light. I bite my lip to avoid screaming. It has three eyes and a mouth like a deep sea Angler. Its skin is a dark purple and disfigured, like something burnt in frying oil. Its hair is the same shade of its skin. I am terrified. It doesn't want to kill me. It wants to torture me, endlessly, until I lose my sanity. I throw the machete on my belt. It hits it on the third eye. It sparks an idea. I grin despite the fear and pain.

"I will make you suffer." It garbles. I get up while the demon runs towards me. I try running towards the trees, but it catches me before I can reach relative safely. Three long talons rip the leather vest, but the skin underneath is unharmed. I turn around suddenly and kick it on the knee then run to the trees. I need the distance. The closer a target is, the more you miss it due to the stress factor, or so I was told. I take the gun and start shooting. Its wounds heal as they are made unless the foreign object remains inside the demon's flesh.

Suddenly, it uses its weapon.

"Daddy, no, daddy, come back." It's my voice.

"Melissa, get away from the car, get away." It's my mother's voice, shouting. I remember the scene clearly.

It was ten years ago. We were on the highway, dad's brakes failed. Mom's seat belt got cut by the glass as the car hit. She got catapulted to the grassy embankment. I was stuck on my car seat. I unfastened myself, got out. I noticed dad was still inside, so I tried getting back in. Mom started screaming. She saw the gas tank had a rupture. I didn't. A Good Samaritan stopped the car and threw me to the grass just as the car exploded. His last words, on the way to the hospital were 'She looks just like my child.' His name was Owen Stevens, another little girl lost her father. Because of me. As I relive the memory, the demon grabs my neck and pulls me back to the clearing.

"Any last words?" It senses my heart starting to fail. It knows I am dying. I reach for my belt through the lack of air.

"Yes. FUCK YOU." I shout. It releases me and I grab a third knife, blinding it. Now it's my turn. I wrap my hands around its scrawny neck. It starts to struggle, punching my head repeatedly. I feel the blood falling on my face, matting my hair. I don't care. One way or another, it ends tonight. The demon's struggles diminish. My heart tries to steady itself. I have less than five minutes. It dies, it starts to disintegrate very slowly. I want it gone NOW. All sort of things show up.

"The crowd loves a good finale." Doc tells me.

I grab a can of gas and pour it on the demon. There are matches nearby. The doc whispers which angle they are looking at me. I stare straight at them, knowing they can see me even if can't see them. I light the match. The fire is taller than me. I bow.

"Good enough for ya, fuckers?" Adrenaline lights me up. I am better than ok. I am wonderful. I gasp. I am awake. The crowd is standing, clapping and screaming. I look at the screen with my heart, it's still failing. Doc injects something on my arm and it stops for a moment, re-starting immediately afterwards. It's strong and steady again. My mother is shouting at me, grinning and crying. The mc is talking again. I just won 100,000,00 pounds. My wounds have been bandaged as they appeared. I look at doc.

"My birthday is in two weeks."