All mistakes are my own.
Characters belong to S. Meyer
Make Me Wanna Die – The Pretty Reckless
I had everything, opportunities for eternity
And I could belong to the night
Your eyes, your eyes
I can see in your eyes
You make me wanna die, I'll never be good enough
You make me wanna die
And everything you love with burn in the light
Every time I look inside your eyes, you make me wanna die.
The candles flicker through the compound distorting the faces of the people around me as they slowly die out. Pale skins morph as the shadows slide along their features, pulling their faces into permanent masks of terror, warping their mouths and twisting their eyes.
They chew their lips raw until blood stains them crimson, their fingers cramping as they clutch their beds, praying it won't be their turn to fight.
Their turn to die.
I press my lips together and tighten my fists against my sides, pushing away their panic, the sickly sweet smell of their terror as it tries to choke me.
Fear is real here, a substance I can taste on my tongue with every tainted breath I breathe. It's thick, slithering through my veins as it tries to grip my heart and force it to beat it's painful song.
I push against the sickness that consumes the people around me, watching as it sends them slowly into a blissful sanity, taking away the pain and lulling them into a crazed stupor.
It's a pleasure my body yearns for but one I can't give it.
I press my boned back against the small wooden bars that play the part of my headboard as I watch him drag the stone over his wrists.
Pale skin turned a ghostly white as he presses the dull edge into his flesh. Silent sobs shake his frame causing his spin to become more defined against his ashen skin. He rests his head against the stone wall, his shoulders rising and falling, his breath huffing from his weakened body.
I watch him grit his teeth as he re-grips his stone, his fingers curling around the end of it, clutching it like a dulled knife with the tip pointed towards veins in his arm. His wrist lies across his knees, his fist relaxed and hanging slightly towards to the floor.
He presses the end of the rock against is damaged flesh again, breathing in; he holds his breath as he forces the blunt edge against his skin.
He twists the stone, grinding it down and into his arm.
His shoulders are vibrating now as he digs his way through the sensitive skin. I watch the blood begin to well around the tip of the stone as he presses harder.
His breath seems to echo against the stone of the compound altering every single person of his attempts but no one stops him.
I turn to look at Ali but she isn't watching. Her head is bowed towards her knees, pulled close to her chest; she hums a gentle song, one I've never heard before. Her fingers tap against her leg with the notes, and rhythmic tap, tap, tap.
I hear the man whimper, the sound ringing against the walls as the rock slips from his stained hands. I turn to watch as it clatters to the floor, skidding away from him and trailing a faint stream of blood in its wake.
My fingers shake as I watch the body of the man, nothing more than bones and a dying heart beat slump to the side and smile as he watches his blood stain the uncovered mattress.
His fingers twitch as I watch the drops of crimson slowly slide down the sides of his digits, staining his colourless skin. His white-d eyes glint as tears form along his lids and drop along his crooked nose.
The guards seem to have woken from their stupor and scramble towards the man. Their shouts for Carlisle wake those few who had managed to sleep and they begin to scream along with the sentries.
The doctor's door swings open, the wood banging against the wall as he stumbles from his tiny office. His shirt is twisted and backwards, his pants barely hanging on his hips as he clutches them to his body.
Carlisle pushes past the guards that hover over the body and kneels down beside the dead Darkie. He presses two fingers against the corpse's throat, sliding them along his jaw, his own working against his teeth. "Michael" he whispers to the man.
"I don't know why they even bother" comes the iron laced voice beside me "he's already dead."
I cringe at her words even though I know they're true.
Carlisle sighs and drops his hand, his head shaking.
"Dead" he mumbles and pushes up from the floor, his knees coming away crimson.
"They always are" says Ali.
Carlisle turns to the hulking man, his finger pointing to his chest "I told you to watch him" he hisses, his face pinched in anger.
The tall guard shrugs and grabs Carlisle shoulder, leading him away from the corpse "he was fast, and you know it" he eyes the doctor "that's why he was in such high demand."
"Fast had nothing to do with that" Carlisle looks over his shoulder at the other guards as they grab the dead man by his hands and feet. Dragging him off the bed, they drop his lifeless body to the floor, and rub their hands along their pants in disgust. "That stone was dull, it would have taken him a long time to do that much damage. He practically tore out his wrist!" Carlisle exclaims as he turns back to the guard.
The guards brow furrows as he looks at the doctor "Are you insinuating something, Doc?" he stops in front of him, his bulky arms crossing over his chest, blocking the way back to his Carlisle's office.
"He was to be watched at all time" Carlisle points towards to corpse "he was unstable, suicidal, and you all were informed of this, you should have been watching him, he shouldn't have had time to do that. And for another matter how the hell did he get that stone? How did you miss that in shake down?"
"What do you want me to tell you? We must have missed it" he shrugs.
"I highly doubt that" scoffs the doctor and makes to move around the man. "Someone would have found it."
"Those are dangerous accusations there Doc" says the guard, his head turned slightly to talk into Carlisle's ear "You wouldn't want someone to get the wrong idea about you, now would they Doc?"
"Your threats are wasted Emmett" Carlisle says "Death would be nothing more than release" he turns to look at Emmett and sighs "and besides you know just as well as I do, I haven't been alive in years" and he walks back to his room, closing the door tightly behind him, the lock falling into place.
Emmett turns away from the door and shouts at the other guards "get him out of here."
They grab Michael's hand, avoiding the one he dug into and start pulling him away, his head crushing against the stone as they tug at his broken body, slowly making their way towards the door, the body painting the stone in red.
I turn my head towards Ali, watching her stiff back rock against the head of the bed; her head clutched between her tiny hands, her lips are pursed as she softly hums to herself.
I swallow past the lump that has lodged it's self in my throat as I watch the guards turn the keys in the locks, clicking the heavy wood paneled door open and dragging the dead Darkie out.
"Don't feel bad for him" mumbles Al from my side.
"Why?" I ask, never taking my eyes off the broken body.
"He escaped; you're still very much here."
xxx
"Ro is right, you know" says Ali, I don't turn towards her voice.
"I know" I say, my eyes locked on my bare feet.
"You will probably die up there" she muses.
"Probably" I wiggle my toes against the bare mattress.
"If it makes you feel any better, it's probably better to die out there then live in here."
"It doesn't" I deadpan and turn to look at her "but thanks for the pep talk."
She shrugs and picks at her nails "Crushing the dreams of newbie's is what I live for."
"You need a new hobby."
"Perhaps" she nods and begins to hum again.
I turn to watch the guards that stand by the door. Hulking bodies filled with the strength from years of eating well stand between myself and the door. Hard faces run along the dying with no emotion, their hands behind their backs, feet shoulder width apart; they say nothing to one another. Like stone statues, they don't move, with only the slight rising of their chests to prove they're breathing.
"Then again" I turn back to her voice "why stop something I'm so good at?"
I shake my head "Stick with what you know."
"Exactly" she nods and begins to hum again.
"This isn't helping me, you know."
"Well, what do you want me to say? You'll be alright?" she shrugs "why bother lying?"
"Your reassurance is astounding" I mutter.
"Glad I can help" she says, turning towards me with a snide smile.
"Oh yeah, you made everything all that much better" I glare at her.
She snorts before turning towards me, folding her legs in front of her. "Alright, you really want my help?"
"No, no just keeping telling me how I'm going to die, that's really helping"
"Funny" she rolls her eyes at me. "Alright first things first, you gotta know they almost always give your opponent a weapon, something slow but will definitely do the trick. Think knives, that's usually what it is. Something small enough that they can hide it, but big enough to do serious damage in a short amount of time" she lifts her arms, twisting it to show the inside of her forearm. A large raised scar runs from the crook of her elbow to the beginning of her palm. The healed skin is twisted; an angry wound coloured fired red that shines against her dull pale skin.
"Next watch out for the dirty fighters, those are usually the ones who strike before the buzzer has even gone. Gets the crowd going and usually a heavy hit into you" she pulls her knees under her and lifts the bottom of the tunic to show her once smooth stomach, now covered in angry twists of healed skin.
"Always remember the crowd is going to hate you, don't waste your time and energy trying to change that because you'll end up dead. They don't care how nice you are, or how good a person you are, you're Darkie, and to them you're the entertainment with dinner. Got that?" she raises an eyebrow at me as she smoothes her tunic out and I nod.
"Don't show off, don't even think about showing off because if you don't die this time around, future challengers are going to be watching you, they'll know what to expect next time and you won't have that advantage. Again, it all comes down to don't try and get the crowd to like you, if you can, end the fight quick, don't draw it out, get in and get out." Ali pauses and looks around, lowering her voice until I have to lean over the gap between our beds to hear her, she whispers: "And most importantly if the opportunity presents it's self, take their weapon. There ain't any deducted points for playing dirty. You play it safe, you die."
Ali stops and looks at me, her white-d eyes searching my face for something. She shakes her head and looks down at her hands. Whatever she was looking for, she didn't find it.
"I don't even know why I'm bothering to tell you," she shakes her head again "planting false hope."
I open my mouth to object but she interrupts me "I can see it; you have that same look that they all get. They all think they can win, just survive until you can get the upper hand. They get cocky and then they get dead." Ali turns away from me and pushes herself back to the head of the bed. "Just forget it, don't put up a fight and maybe if you're lucky it'll be quick."
I open my mouth to contradict her but she shakes her head quickly and turns to face away from me. I frown at the side of her face, pulling my legs to my stomach. Ali's face contorts as she bits her lip as her eyes follow the approaching guard.
"Good morning, Alice" he smiles, his lips pulling over his strangely white teeth. His blond hair is matted from the sweat and dirt from lack of bathing, his bearded face covered in a thin film of filth. A burn scar runs along the side of his face, twisting his smile, and pulling the skin of his eye, making it look like he's collapsing into himself, the shinny skin a ugly red under the candle light.
Ali's face contorts as she eyes the guard, her anger tinting her pale skin a light pink. "Is it?" her voice is tight with rage, her fists clenching at her sides.
"Now, now, smile, my sweet, don't want wrinkles" he chuckles slightly and taps her forehead.
I watch Alice as her hands twist the fabric beside her legs, her jaw jumping as her rage begins to consume her.
"I do hope you're behaving yourself, not scaring the new girl, are you?" he asks and turns to look at me
Ali's voice is tight, her teeth grinding "would I do that?"
The guard runs his finger down her cheek and along her jaw as he leans in, his lips grazing her ear "I think so" he whispers.
Alice goes ridged before her fist blurs upwards connecting with the guards burned cheek. His hand rips away from hers to clutch his split skin a growl ripping from his throat.
"Why you little—"
"Jasper" snaps Emmett from across the compound.
Jasper's head snaps around to look at him, his hand dropping from his cheek and clenching at his sides.
"Quit fucking around" Emmett barks "and get her to prep" he nods towards me before turning away again.
Jasper's jaw works, the muscles jumping as he turns away from Alice "we aren't finished" he hisses.
"Can't wait" Alice sneers as she pulls herself up to the headboard of her bed, his fist cradling in her lap.
"You" he snaps at me, his hand curling around my upper arm "get the fuck up."
I yank my arm away from him, my elbow flying up and clipping him in the stomach.
Jasper grunts and grabs at me again. His fingers digging into my skin.
"If you weren't going to die, I'd make you pay for that" he hisses in my ear as he jerks me forward. My knees skid against the ground and I can't swallow the whimper the fills my throat. Jasper slips his hands under my arms and pulls me to my feet.
My body feel heavy under me as he pulls me away from Alice. I stumble and he wrenches on my arm. I turn my head to look back but her head is bowed, her eyes following the pattern of her shirt.
"Move" he thrusts me forward, his fingers grinding my bones together.
I swallow past the bile that rises in my throat and turn away from my thought-to-be friend.
Eyes follow my movements as I'm dragged from the compound.
They know where I'm going.
And they know I'm not coming back.
xxx
The corridors seem to blur together as we move through the maze. Heavy wooden doors dot each side of the hall in a random pattern, their thick metal knockers coated in various levels of dust like no one has ever touched them.
Jasper pulls me behind him as we pass hundreds of rooms, my feet stumbling as I try and make my limbs move like his. We pass a man and a woman dressed in ragged pants and vests, their backs arched as they stare at the ground, faces hidden behind their tangled hair, they stare at their dirt caked feet. We move past them quickly, Jasper ignoring them and taking a sharp left down another hall to stop in front of a door stained crimson.
He reaches out and wraps his knuckles against the wood.
Peals of laughter echo just beyond the wood and I jump as the sound smacks into my ears. Murmurs of voices, muffled into nothing but different octaves of sound rustle just past my sight flit from underneath the door.
"Yes?" asks a sweet little voice.
A tiny woman stands with her hands clutching a tunic around his body. Her hair, a tumbling mess of tangles hang around his small face, framing her smile and dimpled cheeks in a blonde halo, the candle light casting shadows along her straight nose and arched brows.
"She's been summoned" says Jasper.
"Oh yes" she turns, leaving the door open "Just give me a moment!" she calls over her shoulder.
The room is dimly light, the light from a single candle burning down in the centre of a wooden table, casting everything in heavy inked shadows.
The darkness dilutes the colours that fill the room. Deep reds and purples run along the walls in elaborate patterns, colouring the cold stone walls in painted happiness. Woven faces stare back at me as I run my eyes along the frames of strangers, their regal head held high for the seamstress who captured their features in thread. Heavy drapes dotting the walls run from the stone ceiling to the floor. The colours vibrant and happy, arching from the corners, four gossamer lengthens of fabric met in the middle of the room.
A single sleeping pallet lies in the middle of the space, the pillows pilled around a man's head; he snores softly and pulls at one of the many multi coloured stitched covers that lay twisted around his narrow hips.
The woman pulls a belt around his crimson tunic, pulling the leather tightly she fastens it around her hips before pulling her tangled hair on top of her head. She nods at her reflection in the tiny blade before tucking it into the sheath at her side and moving back towards us. She forgoes shoes.
Pulling the door shut she looks at Jasper and nods "Alright, I'm ready."
They move at the same time, and I'm being dragged down the maze of halls once again.
We turn so many times that I begin to think we've gone in literal circles until we stop at a set of double doors.
The woman reaches into her pocket and pulls out a key, leaning forward she thrusts it into the lock and twists it open. She pushes them aside and strides inside.
Replacing the key, she grabs a small box and a thin stick of wood. Striking it against the edge of the box, sparks fly as they catch.
She cups her hand around the tiny flame as she walks around from candle to candle, illuminating the room one corner at a time. I resist the urge to clench my eyes against the light that begins to spill throughout the room.
Hundreds of tables stand side by side, their tops covered in thick lengthens of leathers and metal.
There are no windows.
The walls are bare and cold.
The stone floor is stained. Painted with the blood of the wounded and dead.
I stand at the door until Jasper pulls me through and up to the side wall where a long wooden bench sits pressed against the wall. Metal cuff links hang down in pairs of two.
A man sits at the far end, his eyes closed and his head hung. His arms are chained at his sides as are his feet.
Jasper sits me at the other end, pushing me down; he grabs the cuffs and snaps them around both of my wrists and my feet.
My head screams to fight back but my hand drop limply at my sides, the chains clanking echoing emptily in the empty room.
"That really isn't necessary" says the woman as she moves throughout the room.
"Protocol" he says and walks away from me to the man at the other end.
"Rise and shine. Time to go back, Erik" he says as he pats the man's cheek.
Erik doesn't even open his eyes.
Jasper reaches around and un-cuffs his hands and feet before pulling him up. I hear his joints crack as he's forced to move.
"Happy hunting, Princess" he calls to me as me moves Erik out the door.
His laugh echoes through the halls as the door slams shut behind him.
Silence seems to clench around me. The soundlessness twists it's fingers around my throat as I try and swallow past the the fear I have come to live with. It caresses my empty stomach and my weakening limbs, making my head heavy on my shoulders.
I hear the woman tsk someone off in my foggy brain. Her steps ring through my ears until she's kneeling in front of me, her eyes looking into mine as she holds a cup to my cracked lips.
I press my mouth together and jerk away from her.
"Drink" she soothes and holds the metal goblet towards me again "it'll make you feel better."
"Like I'd believe anything you people say" I spit over my drying tongue.
The woman sighs "I don't want to force you Bella" she says and I press my back against the stone wall, wishing it would consume me "so please, just drink it."
I shake my head and turn away from her.
She sighs again "I really didn't want to do this."
The woman reaches forward and grabs my nose, pinching it closed and forcing the cup against my lips. I screech, my lips parting, she tips the cups, making the liquid pour into my mouth. I cough, choking on the contents but she doesn't stop until the glass is empty.
She leans back on her heels and watches as I cough, my throat burning as my body tries to force the liquid from my lungs.
"There," she smiles, standing up, setting the cup on the floor near my chained feet "that wasn't so hard now was it? Admittedly, it could have been easier."
I wheeze my chest rising as I try to draw air into my drenched lungs "Fuck you" my voice rasps, like I've swallowed sandpaper.
The woman frowns "That's awfully rude to say to someone who just saved you from dying of starvation."
"And you think that because you saved my life, the fact that you are helping to end it means nothing now?" I cough again.
"I am doing as the King commands" she says as if that answers everything.
"I will be something to help to ease your guilt" I spit at her. "You're all murderers."
"It is not my sword that ends lives."
"You sit on the side lines and watch people die. You are no better than the ones who draw the blood. Actually, you may be worse."
"These are my orders. I do as I am commanded" she looks down at me, her eyes losing that light I saw before "I have no choice."
"You're preaching to the damned. You want to be forgiven, go see a fucking priest."
I watch the woman swallows roughly as she presses her lips together, her tears fill the bottom of her lids and I feel nothing.
At least by this time tomorrow she'd still be breathing.
She can get the fuck over it.
xxx
Sleep doesn't come.
I try and calm my brain but it's running away from me.
My stomach muscles cramp as my arms and legs begin to numb from sitting for so long.
The woman left hours ago; blowing out each candle as she went before carefully closing the door behind her.
I count the seconds as they pass, counting down the time till my execution.
A torture all its own, but I don't stop.
It's only when the doors are opened again and five women walk through their happy clucking filtering through the room like hens do I pause my countdown.
They're all dressed the same.
All red tunics, and smiling faces.
They don't acknowledge me.
"Good morning ladies" says a plump little bird as she flies through the door after the others.
They all squawk their replies back before moving to light the candles.
I hang my head again and restart my counting as they brighten the room.
"Only one today" says a squeaky voice of a young hatchling.
They all murmur before the bustling begins again.
I hear the doors open again and everyone stops to greet the newcomer. I raise my head and find it's only the woman from last night.
"Oh, Esme, I heard you were woken up to take care of it, you poor dear" says the plump hen.
Esme fluffs her hand in the air "just part of the job."
"I don't know how you do it" says the large one "you are inspiration to us all" she adores her.
I gag.
She walks around them towards me "Bella" she greets.
I grunt and drop my head again.
"Animal" whispers that fat lady and I look up at her, narrowing my eyes.
"Now, now, Jess, now is not the time, preparations are in order." Esme claps her hands and they all set off to work.
"Sleep well, did you?" I ask her.
She looks down at me "I slept fine" her voice is stiff.
"Must have been nice" I muse.
"It won't work this time" she informs me.
"Seems it already has."
"Call for a guard" calls Esme "we'll need the help today."
Someone runs from the room, slamming the door as they go.
"Ending our chat so early this morning?"
Esme turns away from me without answering and begins to prepare a table.
Minutes later the chicken reappears Jake in tow and runs to Esme, they both look over their shoulder at me and Esme nods.
The girl grabs Jake's hand and they walk over to me.
"Well, aren't you the beauty of the ball" he eyes me and I sneer "not much of a personality this one" he says to the girl and she giggles.
"Go to hell" I snap and pull at my chains.
The girl beside him goes ridge, her tiny claws digging into his arm.
"Now, now Bella how is that any way to treat your superior?"
"When I see one, I'll let you know."
Jake shakes his head and pulls the key to my cuffs from his pocket. "You might want to stand away Leah" he says over his shoulder to the girl. She nods and back away.
I roll my eyes "I'm not going to fucking bite you."
Jake grabs my arms, holding my wrists in one hand as he undoes my legs and hauls me to my feet. My bones creak as I move and I stumble as the blood rushes back to my feet.
"Where do you want her?" he asks and Esme looks up from her work.
"Here" she says and I'm walked up to her.
Esme reaches over the table and grabs the knife that lies there before turning back to me and cutting the belt that holds my pants up.
"No loose clothing in the arena" she says and grabs at my tunic, her knife sliding up and slicing through the thin fabric.
"Hey—"
She shakes my arms until the sleeves fall to my wrists causing to Jake releases them to let the clothing the floor with my pants.
Then I'm standing there in nothing but my bindings.
"Do I get to keep these?" I sneer at her, but she ignores me.
She sets the knife on the table and grabs at something leather. She holds it up to me and nods before kneeling on the ground and lifting my legs one at a time.
For a second I think of kneeing her in the nose but with Jake holding me, it would do me no good.
I stand still as she slides the short pants up my legs and ties them at my waist. I look down at my bare calves and thighs and frown.
Next she grabs at a leather corset looking thing and wraps it around my torso, pulling the ties tightly behind my back, lacing it up my body. I look down at the fabric that covers my chest and stomach and cringe when I see the crimson stains.
Heavy metal plated sleeves envelop each of my arms, the tops hooking onto the corset and around my middle finger. I clench my fists and they move with me smoothly.
A tick piece of leather is wrapped around my throat along with one wrap around each of my thighs just under where the pants I wear end.
Lastly she laces my feet in bindings, each strip of fabric wrapping my toes and up my legs ending at my knees.
Esme stands away from, her teething gnawing on her lip. She reaches forward and adjusts my shoes before nodding and walking around me. She wraps her hand in my hair and I stiffen.
"Can't have anything to pull on" she says and runs her fingers through the tangles. Her hands work through the knots before braiding the length of it down my back, tying it off and wrapping it around my head.
"She's ready" she says to Jake and his hands tighten around my wrists.
"Good luck Bella" she says and I look at her.
"Don't act like you care" I spit as Jake pulls me away from her.
She doesn't look me in the eyes as I'm pulled through the arched doorway on the other side of the room.
We walk the corridor in silence.
There is no need for words.
Hundreds of people are speaking for us.
The audience roars as we move closer, their cries for blood increasing in volume as we make our way towards the morning light.
We near the end of the tunnel and I see the bars that block the mouth of the tunnel and my heart beat makes my breathing shake.
No escape.
Screams thunder.
I look over my shoulder at Jake but like Esme he doesn't look me in the eyes. He's looking anywhere but me.
I wrench my arms from his hands. Ignoring his commands, I walk to the bars and wrap my fingers around the metal.
I feel my legs shake as the crowd stomps at their seats.
They want the show to start.
The sound of bars creaking makes me look behind to watch as metal rods slide out from the wall to encase me in a cage.
I feel the bars under my hands begin to quake as they raise them.
I breathe in through my nose and out my mouth.
I will not be afraid.
I will not die a coward.
I will not give them the satisfaction of my fear.
It's all I control now.
It's not enough to take the terror of dying away.
But it's all I have.
I straighten my shoulder, and clench my fists.
I am Darkie, and I will not be afraid of the light.
Closing my eyes, I step into the arena.
A/N: Howdy to all my loyals, and to all those who are new.
I know it's been forever, but we'll let that slide, won't we? ;)
I would like take a moment to say a big thank to all who reviewed, alerted and favourite this story of mine, you make writing it worth it.
And as usual, I am reminding you, that if you like this story let me know! Its continuation is based on you guys.
Much love and massive hugs.