The Colosseum

Truth

Ten

I stowed the broken eye in the box, hoping that reviewing it later would give me some kind of clue as to who placed it on my mattress pillow. Automatically, I assume it's Ajax who planted the object. Aside from physical attacks, he's quite the fan of psychological razing. From last season, it was obvious that he wouldn't be beating me in a fight. Perhaps he's guessed that getting in my head will help his chances. And so far, he's off to a good start.

Part of me hopes that whoever sent me an eye was a coincidence – that they eye means something else. But it's too specific, and my gut is turning over in bad vibes. And nobody likes bad vibes, because they follow you into your dreams.

Last night, I was transported back into my hidden memory, uncovering another piece of the puzzle.

Once more, I was listening in on my mother and father, discovering how they guided Ezra into stabbing my eye. I turned away from their door and locked eyes with Ezra in the hall. He called my name, which sent shivers down my spine. "There's something I want to talk to you about," a younger but still lethal version of the king beckons. "...please."

I balled up my fists in my dream, then unfurled them. Putting on my first fake smile, I nodded. "Meet me in the kitchen."

I woke up after that, unsure of what my intentions were with the king. Back then, I disliked him. Now, I hate him. If I was transported to that time, I think I'd have slaughtered him right there. But back then, perhaps I would have done something a little less confrontational; something a bit more underhanded. Like put a glass eye on his pillow.

Either way, I woke up just in time. My inner clock is telling me that the sun is just starting to rise, so I rise with it. I have a lot of thoughts going on in my head and the best way I can clear them is to do what I do best – fight. Due to a "strained schedule," Annette's classes will be at odd times, but packed with twice the heat. And that sounds like the ideal situation for me.

As I pass the other dorms, I pause at Kova's. I wonder if she's back yet...

Gingerly, I crack the door open. The beds are all full besides one, so I assume she isn't back yet. What I do see, however, is quite disturbing. Standing at the empty mattress, Josephine looks down on it, as if giving it a hex or something. How long was she like that for? Does she really hate Kova that much that she'd imagine her laying there, vulnerable to an attack? I get that most people who volunteer for this place are a bit off to begin with, but Josephine is on a whole different, twisted level. I'm curious to see how far she'll go to secure her position as the only desert survivor. Which means I need to worry about how far I will go to keep Kova safe...for my benefit, obviously.

Silently, I close the door, not keen on interrupting Josephine's satanic ritual or whatever. Trotting down the open hall, I loop through the cafeteria, exit into the main tunnel, then stroll around half the Colosseum.

Glimpses of the sand through the entrances of the arena still captivate my mind, even after seeing it for hundreds of days. Sometimes, I feel myself even looking forwards to entering the ring. The crowd's thunder has become my lullaby, the sand brushing against my skin a blanket, and the weight of a sword my pacifier. It makes me ask myself: if I didn't have business to square away with my brother, would I volunteer to stay another series?

A more daunting question rises to put: if I didn't have my brother or the Colosseum to return to, what would I be doing? Who would I be with and what would we be doing? My mind draws a blank on that one, but it's not like I'll ever have to seriously consider it. Because I do have my brother out there, I'll avenge myself and the crown's rightful ascension and take the throne. I'll be doing this world a justice.