The Colosseum

Memo

Ten

That girl is wild. In all my series I've been here, I have never seen someone meet a blood quota by hurting themselves. The idea is just...outright dumb. I mean, the point of a match is to win by defeating your opponent, not defeating yourself in the process. But this woman slices her arm up like a vegetable on a cutting board because she knew she stood no chance of approaching him multiple times and winning. And to know she would chip-chop herself up before The Ripper died meant she was sure she could still kill him after her wound. What a badass. Those aren't traits of a winner, but a survivor – which makes me even happier that I chose her to take under my wing.

But I'll get to the whole point of why I want someone under my wing later. I'm sure you're dying to know what happened to the newbie who is also dying as we speak. As the bastard king elected to crown this fight's survivor as champion, her head lolled to the side and she laid lifeless on the ground.

"Hey!" I shout to her, sprinting across the sand to get to her, realizing I don't even know her name yet. Quickly, I cross the distance. I drop to my knees and press my fingers against her neck, hunting for a pulse. "You're alive," I whisper in a sigh of relief. Weakly, her heartbeat pushes against my touch. "...barely." I push up her eyelids, searching her pupils for any reaction to the sun. Vaguely, they constrict. Unconscious, I piece together.

I look up and crane my neck to see all six entrances. I expect a gurney and a doctor to be running out here, first-aid kit in hand and a bottle of water in their pack. But there is no one. Right, it's just the first round; the test round. That means they won't waste their resources and time on a rookie like this girl. If she can't get through this herself, then the taxpayers that contribute to the Colosseum won't waste their delegated money on resources to save her. And fixing this will take a lot of resources.

The blood rushes from this girl's arm, draining the tan complexion out of her skin and leaving her ash white. "Fine," I huff, ripping a strip of cloth off my shirt and tightly tying it just above her wound. Stripping my shirt off completely, I decide to hurriedly tear my top into multiple strips to tie around her gash in multiple areas. "If no one else will help you, then I will. You're fighting two battles today, you psycho."

I gather her in my arms, startled at how light she is. Before I exit the arena, I toss a glare at the king. Even though I've seen him almost every day for the past 200 days, the sight of him still brings my body to its melting point. That stoic, nonplussed face; hair the color of the blood he demands shed; an aura of power and esteem that leaves him never. Though for once, he looks surprised and off-guard. And though I could stand here and internally curse him to hell all day, I need to help this strange stranger before she dies.

"Don't worry," I tell the girl, though I'm mainly talking to myself. "Once I get out of here, the king's head is mine to mount."

Sprinting down into the tunnels, hooking a right and darting down the main path, I round a corner and barge into the Colosseum's closest doctor's office. "Deep gouge down the inside of her entire forearm. Bleeding won't stop. Patient is unconscious and barely alive," I rattle off to the duo of saviors. By now, I know the drill: check vitals, stop the bleeding, repair the wound, then send the victims to their dorm to rest. I've had my fair share of life-threatening injuries to know what takes place here, but I'm hoping that after this series, I'll never have to worry about coming here again.

"How did someone get an injury like this?" Val inquires, shining a light on the girl's arm and cleaning the area around the cut. But wherever she cleans is instantly overridden with swaths of blood. "Doc, we need the metal rod," she snaps, talking to the burly man lingering over her.