A/N: Hi, wow it's been a really long time since I updated, coz I've had a shit-tonne of stress with GCSE's and such, but I'm on holiday and hopefully I'll stop reading so much ff and start writing it. Anyway I hope to end it soon, hopefully in my summer break and then hopefully go over it and sort out all the stupid mistakes and plot holes my younger my came up with, and then re-post it. I'm not promising anything, because I never keep them, but I will try.

I absolutely love anyone who has stuck with me through all my shitty writing and plots, and just thank you, it means a lot 3

Chapter 47:

Cris finally regained her senses and went to walk off the mat but was stopped by Meredydd's booming voice.

"Stay where you are, we aren't done with you yet," He commanded making Cris pause mid-step. Cris could tell everyone else was confused as this practice was meant to be in tiers so no one would fight twice in a row, but no one dared question him. Obviously I'm a special exception.

"You two!" He then shouted, pointing to two men that just happened to be walking past. "Take him away," He ordered to which the two immediately set to work on taking Thomas away.

Hopefully to a doctor.

Cris stood in the middle of the mat awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. Everyone was staring at her and the slightly evil smirk Meredydd gave her only made her skin crawl that much more.

"So," The 'General' began, the happiness, and almost smugness, being conveyed clearly in his tone. "Who wants to have a try? Thomas will have to prove his worth to me later, so unless any of you wants to join him with that," He paused then looking around the group sceptically, as if they should know what he was meaning to end his sentence with.

Suddenly pain flared through Cris' leg making her hunch over slightly. It was hard to refrain from crying out as pulses of pain convulsed through her leg.

In all honesty Cris didn't know how she forgot about her leg; it seemed like a pretty hard thing to forget. She took a quick glance back down at her leg but nearly as soon as she looked down she looked back up not wanting anyone (especially Meredydd) to see it as a sign of weakness. That wouldn't have boded well considering she was being made to fight.

What was even weirder was that her cast had disappeared, she guessed that someone had taken it off during the night but how the hell didn't Cris wake up if that was the case? Plus how did she herself not notice the cast was missing in the morning.

Cris was broken out of her short trance by her father's booming voice, "Come on! Look at her! Here stands a fifteen year old girl and none of you have the guts to take the weakling down," Meredydd's voice contrasted highly, as he went from shouting the first to sentences to speaking in a calm collected tone.

The bipolar vibe he was ultimately giving off, only made Cris more afraid of the man.

Not to mention she was not even going to think about what the man himself had said, because she was in fact sixteen and not a 'weakling'. Well, I don't think I am one anyway.

Even after the general's short speech no one volunteered to take her on and Cris was completely happy with that because while she didn't want to hurt anyone, she also didn't want to be hurt. Any more than I already am anyway, stupid leg, she cursed herself.

Meredydd, being the impatient prick he was, decided he'd quickly had enough of no one offering themselves and instead resolved to choose the person himself.

"Right since none of you llwfrgi can take her on, I guess I'll show you how it's done," The maniac smiled widely, white straight teeth being shone at her in a sort of menacing way. Oh crap, Cris thought and she gulped, trying to keep the apprehension down.

How could she fight him? He had way more experience than her, even if she didn't have a cast-less broken leg. It also didn't help the man, who was unfortunately her father, was ruthless, deadly and sadistic.

Meredydd's smile widened and he slipped off his jacket, leaving him only in a tight black t-shirt, a pair of khaki trousers and a pair of thick-soled black military boots. Well, they are going to hurt.

Cris took a fighting stance just outside the middle of the ring, having to forget her shock and disgust towards the man. It hurt her leg to do so but she'd never let the pain be anything but internal. Her opponent strode confident to his spot opposite her and with another intimidating smile said "Come on, sweetheart, let's see what you've got?"

He paused for a second and assumed what Cris could only describe as a thinking position: standing straight but his top half almost slanted and a finger plastered to his thin sneering lips. "Oh," He started after a couple of seconds. "You aren't too tired after your last match, are you?" The question could be conceived as caring and thoughtful but added with mocking tone, it came out demeaning and patronising.

The girl fought hard not to let her mouth be twisted into a snarl at the question. Taking a couple of deep breathes Cris was able to remain calm but it didn't last long for as soon as she opened he eyes she saw a fist come flying towards her face.

It was all she could do to move her face so she wasn't hit, and probably blinded, in the eye. Unfortunately, she was too slow and the punch was only directed towards her jaw. The punch was hard and fast and it sent her sprawling back and she was lucky to keep her footing and remain standing.

Pain flooded through her face but she wasn't allowed anytime to recover as soon after the punch she was sent flying off of her feet with a swift kick to her to her left leg.

She was sprawled on the floor, her left leg bent at an awkward angle only making it more painful. Cautiously, Cris lifted her thumping chest upwards with the little strength her arms still possessed; only to be stomped back onto the mat.

Pain radiated through her chest and some voice in the back of her head knew she was going to have a boot print on her chest later.

"What kind of father are you? You let your children be used and broken for your own sadistic use" Cris nearly spat the words out at him but, knowingly, they had no effect on the monster that stood over her. He simply smirked, a smirk that seemed to crawl on his lips and emitted waves of self-confidence and cruelty.

The crowd was powerless to all but watch as the man, that commanded them, brought his heavy boot down onto his child's chest, hearing bones crack underneath it's weight, seeing blood spurt out of her pale lips. The crimson staining the mat beneath, leaving bright red drops on the dirty white cover.

They saw the light fade out of her eyes as they rolled into the back of her head and she lay limp upon the mat.

They stood, too scared, too frightened, too ashamed to move as all the did was watch as the so-called father spat on his daughter's unmoving body and turned to happily march away, a manic laugh echoing around the field coming from his lips.

Only when he was out of sight did they move.

Translations:

Llwfrgi – this basically means coward or chicken