The Colosseum

Correcting Hammurabi

Kova

Promptly after Val did all she could for me – stint my knee and wrap it up – I dragged my bad leg to the dorms. My lagging heel created the impression in the sand that a snake was slithering next to a one-legged person, but to me, it was just a reminder about what Josephine did to me.

I thought that if I stayed in my lane – trained, got stronger, did as the king bid and teamed with Ten – that I'd be relatively good to go. On the way to the catacombs, Ajax almost made an appeal as a human being not acting like I was repulsive or acting repulsively. But it was all an act to disarm my guard so Josephine could make her critical strike. It makes Ten's point on the Colosseum easier to understand: why waste your breath and emotion on telling the truth when people just use it as a stepping stone to walk over and advance themselves?

Ezra's words coming echoing in my head from the first day I talked to him face-to-face. Everything is a game. From the fights in the arena, to the way you move a crowd, to the way you interact in the tunnels below the glamorous show of the Colosseum. It seems like for a moment in the catacombs, I was out of that game, involving myself in a bigger cause – something that mattered. To Josephine and Ajax, everything was ploy and plot, designed to weaken me. I should've known they'd keep playing, even when something that could affect the entire nation was out for the taking. I try to resent myself more than Josephine for that, hoping that I can erase my mind of its foreign, cutthroat images.

It doesn't work.

It was more than difficult to get sleep. My knee ached, my blood boiled, my mind raced. If I could toss and turn without pain, I would. But because I can't, I'm forced to lay on my back and stare at the ceiling, its blank color encouraging my mind to wander to the past. In the dunes, when it was still daytime and there was no sign of food, I'd huddle in the tent and force myself to fall asleep, sleeping through dinner and hoping my appetite would pass by the time I awoke. If I force myself back to sleep now, will my pain pass when I wake up just the same?

Sitting up, I survey my knee. Doubt it.

In that moment, Ten comes in with an icepack. "I heard Josephine bragging about lessening her competition, so I looked for you," he easily says as if nothing happened between us. A part of me wants to blame Ten for my knee – if it wasn't for his facades and unreasonable behavior, I wouldn't have stormed off and allowed my clouded judgement to follow Ajax into a graveyard. But I have no one to blame for that but myself. "I stopped by Val's beforehand...she said it doesn't look good, so..."

Sighing, I search his silvery eyes, trying to identify what I'm feeling. Resentment? Sorrow? Mercy? Ruthlessness?

One thing is for sure: if I survive this match tonight, then I'll really need someone to watch my back, and Ten would be an ideal ally for that. But objective strategy aside, I'm having a difficult time categorizing my emotions. When I look at Ten, do I see a friend, a pawn, or an enemy? And are those really my only three options to choose from?

I guess in the Colosseum, it is.

Making up my mind, I extend a hand towards Ten, who lingers in the dorm doorway. Surprised at the action, he blinks a few times, but takes slow steps to get to me. Pausing at my hand, he looks up at me in my top bunk, a questioning glint in his eyes. Tentatively, he reaches out and holds my hand in his. "What are you doing?" I inquire.

Aghast, he furrows his brows. I might as well have told him that I once dug so deep into the earth that I fell out of the universe. "What do you mean, what am I doing? What else am I supposed to be doing?"

Slipping my hand out of his, I point to his other hand – the one with the icepack. "Handing me some ice."

Embarrassed, he casts his eyes to the floor, handing me the aid. "I was going to use that for myself, you know..."