Rats: Shai's Story

The Arrests

Author's Note: I've no comments on this story yet and I really want to know what you think of it. Feel free to tell me anything. Do you love it? Do you hate it? Any predictions? All your support is appreciated!

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“Our winner this year is Marco Rodriguez!” he could hear Pascal shout from the arena.

Jasper threw his helmet across the tent as hard as he could across the tent. He was hoping that a loud crash would release his anger, but the helmet hit the dirt and quietly rolled away. He clenched his fists and cursed out loudly.

He knew he had to get out of that tent before Marco came back to show off his victory. He took his bag off the table at the back of the tent and quickly took off his gear. After pulling on his jeans, he noticed that the bruises that scatter his chest and shoulders were already to become visible. His fingers softly pushed on the tender spots on his stomach.

“Rough game,” someone said behind him.

Jasper turned around to see Samuel standing at the front of the tent. A large white patch was taped over his left eye with white gauze wrapped around his head to hold it in place. He still had his gear on and his arms were crossed under his chest.

“Just pissed Marco won again,” Jasper told him.

“Yeah,” Samuel said pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. “Heard your car flipped pretty good.”

“Yeah,” Jasper agreed. His muscles ached as he lifted up his arms to put on his shirt. “I think you win for injury though.”

Samuel touched the bottom of his patch and Jasper could see his face wince.

“Lost the sight in that eye. I guess I should thank you for that,” Samuel said.

Jasper remembered how Marco signalled for him to go around so they could run into Samuel’s car and Jasper cursed himself out for that. He let Marco use him to win. He knew he should have partnered up with Samuel so Marco would have lost.

“Sorry,” Jasper muttered.

“It’s no bid deal. I’ll survive. If I was a Brighty they’d have me in the hospital for weeks.”

“If you’re a Brighty you’d never be allowed in a car.”

He could hear Samuel chuckled under his breath. Only two other piles of clothes sat on the table. Jasper grabbed Samuel’s clothes and threw it at him. Marco’s clothes were the only ones left on the table.

He pulled his knife out of his pocket and made a quick slash down the front of the shirt.

“What’re you doin’?” Samuel asked him.

He lifted up Marco’s shirt and tore it apart, his muscles screaming out in pain. Samuel’s laughing grew louder.

“He can afford new clothes,” he said.

“That extra five hundred can buy a lot.”

He threw Marco’s torn up shirt on the ground and pulled out his jeans. He let the legs of the pants hang off the side of the table. Jasper held the knife against the jeans and sawed off the legs.

“It’s been hot lately, he may want shorts,” Jasper said.

Jasper cut off the second leg and threw them down on the ground, on top of his shirt. He slid the knife back into his pocket.

“I’m leaving before he comes back,” Jasper said walking across the tent.

“Same here. He’s going to think I’m the one who destroyed his clothes,” Samuel said. “And I can’t spare anymore eyes.”