Twenty #2
By the time night falls, the guards come. A group of thick-built men drag me out of the cell while Maria sobs quietly behind them. They throw a skimpy black outfit at me, barely a scrap of fabric, and shove me through a set of ornate double doors.
The room beyond is lavish, golden light flickering off marble and velvet. About ten men and two women sit in a circle around a raised, circular stage, an arena. Silence falls the moment I enter.
As they lead me toward the arena, I see they’ve already hauled my opponent up there.
The same young woman Maria pointed out last night, with those same steely eyes and hostile stance.
Standing here now, I can’t blame her one bit.
I’m just as full of fury, ready to tear her apart if it means saving myself.
I step onto the stage and let my eyes sweep slowly over the crowd, taking in their eager, almost feral stares.
Some are hungry, others cold and calculating, but all of them belong to this sick, sadistic bunch.
Roberto’s got a champagne flute in hand, lounging by the fireplace. Something inside me snaps.
I shout, my voice cutting through the hush, “You’re all a pack of twisted freaks. You don’t even deserve to be called human.”
The reaction stuns me. Some whoop and holler loud, while others raise their champagne glasses like it’s a toast to me.
A short, pudgy man steps forward like some deranged ring announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen, our fiery new contender, Ava Wilson!”
The crowd erupts, clapping and whistling, their sick enthusiasm echoing off the walls.
“And in the opposite corner, our reigning champion, the undefeated Daliah!”
My opponent, Daliah, stays just as silent amid the sickos’ cheers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the armed guards pulling their guns. They’re just waiting for me to try something stupid, like making a run for it, so they can put a bullet in me.
Roberto walks over to the boxing bell, his voice calm but commanding. “Begin.”
Then he rings the bell.
Daliah lunges at me without a second’s hesitation, and I dodge aside but not fast enough to keep her fist from clipping my jaw. Dazed from the hit, I stagger back, but she charges again. This time, I react quicker, shielding my head so her punches slam into my arms instead.
I snap my knee up and drive it hard between her legs, shoving her off me. She stumbles back, breathing hard as she watches me. I feel blood trickle from the corner of my mouth, and it sinks in, there’s no other way.
If I’m going to survive this, I have to unleash every ounce of rage I’ve buried over the years.
The crowd fades away. The room disappears.
It’s just me and Daliah, two desperate women tearing into each other with fists and fury.
Adrenaline floods my veins, dulling the pain of every blow as I fight back with everything I’ve got.
I don’t know how long it lasts, seconds, minutes, until I finally knock her to the ground.
I straddle her and start swinging, fist after fist raining down on her face.
When her face becomes a bloody mess, I snap out of it and scramble back in horror. It’s like breaking through the surface after drowning, and suddenly I hear the crowd’s roaring cheers.
The pudgy announcer clambers onto the stage, voice booming: “The winner of the match, Ava Wilson!”
But my eyes are on Daliah. She twitches, and relief floods me so hard I could cry, knowing she’s still alive. A few guards rush in and swarm her. That’s when she screams, thrashing to fight them off. But they drag her away anyway, toward whatever grim fate awaits.
Guilt and shame crush me, my heart splintering under the weight, but I won’t cry in front of these monsters. When I’m shoved back into the cell, Maria rushes to me like always. She wipes the blood from my face with a scrap of cloth and refuses to leave my side all night.
A few hours later, the guards return and toss Daliah’s broken body onto the floor like trash.
I drop to my knees beside her, tears spilling uncontrollably down my cheeks. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
***
Down here in this damp, dark basement, I have no sense of time.
Logically, it’s probably only been a few hours, but it feels like I’ve been trapped here for days.
The only thing keeping me from losing my mind is the hope that Maxim’s coming.
Something deep in my chest insists he’ll come for me.
I just have to stay alive until he does.
Footsteps echo again, and a few thick-necked guards barge into the cell. They head straight for me and drag me out once more. Despair floods every inch of me. Another fight.
I pull on that stupid outfit and step into that godawful room. My opponent’s not on the stage yet, so I stand there under their hungry stares. A few minutes tick by, and then the door swings open. The second I see who’s being dragged toward the stage in the guards’ grip, terror rips through me.
“No, not her!” I scream, leaping off the stage.
Leonardo grabs me tight, and Maria bursts into tears, trembling like a scared little fawn in the iron hold of those two bastards. Roberto saunters over with this filthy grin.
“You animal, she’s just fourteen. Only fourteen!” I yell at him after spitting right into his face.
He calmly wipes his cheek with a handkerchief. “If you don’t fight,” he says coldly, “you’ll both be counted as losers.”
“She’s just a kid!” I shout again.
He glances at the crowd and shrugs. “We’re waiting. What’s it going to be?”
I look at Maria, so small, so terrified, and my throat locks with grief. I know exactly what this sick bastard is doing. He chose her on purpose. She’s still just a child, she’d never survive what’s waiting for the loser.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’ll fight.” My voice comes out as a grief-choked whisper.
He cups his ear mockingly. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
I open my eyes and glare at him with pure hate. “I said I’ll fight.”
Not just his lips, his eyes are laughing too. They march both of us onto the stage. Maria glances around, tears streaming. I step up and cup her face in my hands.
“Look at me, Maria.”
Her lips tremble. “Ava, I’m scared.”
“Do you trust me?”
She just nods through her tears.
“When the bell rings, come at me. Pull my hair, hit me—just fight, okay?”
“I... I can’t.”
“You can. You have to. Your life depends on it.”
The pudgy announcer steps between us, separating our bodies, and calls out our names just like the night before.
When the bell clangs, Maria stays frozen, staring at me. I step forward and slap her hard across the face.
“Hit me. Come on, now,” I urge.
She bursts into tears again. “I can’t, Ava. I can’t!”
I strike her again, harder, and she collapses to the ground. I grab her by the collar, drag her back up, and whisper so only she can hear,
“It’s just a game, sweetheart. Just a game.”
But she’s too terrified to hear me.
“Hit her, or you both lose!” Roberto’s voice booms across the room.
I shove Maria aside and scream in his filthy face, “You want me, you bastard. Let the girl go!”
His grin widens. “We all want you.”
The crowd erupts—cheers, whistles, drunken laughter.
Roberto raises his glass. “We’ve got the stamina for it. Two in one night won’t be a problem.”
He gestures to one of the guards, who moves toward Maria. The thought of what they’re planning for her makes my blood boil. I lunge at him with everything I’ve got.
My body slams into the guard’s massive chest, and we both crash off the platform, smashing into the liquor table. Glass shatters, liquid splashes, the crowd goes wild.
Hands grab me from behind, but I twist, swing, and land a punch before I’m thrown to the ground. A shard of glass slices across my thigh.
Maria’s screams pierce through the chaos, they’re dragging her away.
I try to get up, but Leonardo’s arm locks tight around my waist, hauling me back.
As he yanks me up, I snatch a jagged piece of glass, clenching it in my fist, praying no one sees.
Roberto steps up, his eyes gleaming with perverse delight.
“Appetizer first,” he purrs, “then the main course.”
He slips out the same way they dragged Maria off.
As Leonardo hauls me through the narrow corridors, a barrage of gunfire erupts behind us, shattering the silence. He freezes for a split second, then drops me and yanks his gun from the shoulder holster.
My heart pounds so violently it feels ready to burst, and I can’t stop the wild grin spreading across my face. Like some deranged creature, I flash a smile and blurt out, not caring about the consequences:
“He’s here, Leonardo. Maxim’s here, to finish what he started. This time, he’ll take your fucking head instead of your useless balls, you motherfucker.”
He lunges at me in a rage, hand swinging back to strike, but before he can, I drive the sharp glass shard into his neck. His eyes widen, terror and disbelief flashing across his face as I drag it across his throat, slicing through flesh and bone.