prologue

Blood splattered across the ground as the man fell to his knees clutching his belly that was now gaping open from the swords cut.  He didn’t scream aloud and cures the one how had inflected the deadly wound only gaped at it in sheer horror, and surprise.

Silent he fell to the ground looking up at me as he did. I will never forget those eyes, I know this as I stared at him unblinking, and to me his body falls to the ground in slow motion.  Thudding softly he comes to arrest still holding his freely bleeding stomach. 

Still shocked that I had taken his life and had won the right to live another day I just stand there not really knowing what to do, as finally a collar and a bag is locked on my neck and pulled roughly over my head.

Only then did I hear the roar of the crowed as I am pulled out of the ring. My frail, skinny arms feel the wait of iron cuffs and the-oh-so familiar wait of the chain that is there constant companion. 

This has been my life since I can remember.  Ever now and then I get impressions of a family, and that I was loved… now I’m a slave in the underground, fighting for the breath I take in now.

This has been my second fight.  I can’t tell you how I won my first match weather it was by the grace of some god that happened to be watching, or just sheer luck.  Either way I’m still breathing and that’s all I care about at the end of the day.

They shove me into my cell, ripping off the bag from my head making my neck snap back.  It’s small, but then again so am I. 

“You did well today.”  A sweet voice said behind me, on the other side of the bars.  I know who the voice belongs to.  I know that she will be leaning seductively against the bars as she either plays with her hair or a fan.  I know that she is clean from the fresh scent that is seeping from her and filling, tainting my cell.  I know that her perfectly light, almost golden brown hair will be fixed and her beautiful face covered with make-up, witch just enhances her features.

Slowly rubbing the back of my neck I turn around and face her.

“Hope.”  I mouth.  Hope what an ironic name for someone who runs an underground slave fighting pit.  I myself am her property.  All this runs through my head as I star at her through the thick black bars.

Smiling she sways her hips at me. 

“Oh, why such a scary stare? You know I don’t like that.”  She puts on a childish pouty face.  I just continue to stare at her.

“Oh very well.”  She says after a few more seconds.  She straitens up now as if she was done with the whole thing and looks at me.  Suddenly I become very aware that I haven’t had a bath in I don’t know how long and I have blood stains all over my raggedy, ripped, tunic and pants.  There both riddled with holes and smell as bad as I do.  My long once lush deep forest green hair is now matted and clumped around my head, hanging in strips down my back.

Looking down I notice my skin is smudged all over and theirs not a clean spot that can be found.  I want to rub my face and run my fingers through my hair but I know I will just make it worse. I look back up at hope to find her staring at me smiling.  She laughs at me; making me angrier than I thought she could with such a small act.

“One thing females never loss is vanity.”  She laughs looking me up and down, turning from my cell she calls over her shoulder-“Never forget who you belong to slave.”  Another one of her melody laughs cut through the air as she climbs the stairs out of my sight.