Chapter 20 - by Jouley
Mash
They are changing our cell assignments again.. I can tell by the loud, echoing screams coming from down the stoney hallway. It sounds like Slash.. I had wondered when they were going to try and seperate her and Beyonce.
Soon there's a noise at the door to our cell, and two men enter in a beeline straight for me.
I don't shrink back.. I have been through far worse than anything these two puny guards could dish out. I have, in a sense, grown to their level, the past few weeks.
Why should I fear someone who can so easily take a life, when I have just as easily done so myself?
No.. I won't think about it. I won't think about The King's face moments before the final blow. The look of horror at the realization of her fate. Or was it the realization of what I had become?
After she died, in my cradling and hysterical arms, I swore I would not fight any more. They could kill me before they had me hurt another of my friends.
But my reservations towards murder didn't at all cover my harming any of the guards.
Still, I don't struggle as they order me to stand. I don't wish to remain in the room they had placed me in after my criminal act.. The occupants of the room know what happened, and they fear me.
Or is it fear mixed with hatred?
I follow the guards down the hall until we stop outside a new room. As I'm shoved inside, I pray that those inside had not been witness to, or been told of my horrific acts.
Then again, when has anything I've ever wished for, been granted?
Sitting infront of me are Aretha, leant back against the further wall of the cell. In her arms is a sniffling Hamster.
The door slams shut behind me, and I know there is no chance of being re-assigned.
Aretha looks up at me, her face full of concern and pity. Does she know? Or just assuming I've been through what most of the other girls have been through? Do I dare tell her if she's wrong?
It's not until Hamster looks up, that I wish they had killed me that day in the fighting ring.
"NOoooo! No, no!" The girl cries, clinging with her little blood stained arms onto Aretha. She is terrified of me.
But I suppose she has a right to be. I did beat her to the point she could have easily died.
I don't expect forgiveness, as I wouldn't forgive myself If i were in her position.
I just wish I didn't have to be in the room with her, listening to her fearful cries.
But again, when do I ever get what I wish for?