All mistakes are my own.
Characters belong to S. Meyer
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I Will Not Bow – Breaking Benjamin
I will not bow. I will not break.
I will shut the world away.
I will not fall. I will not fade.
I will take your breath away.
And I'll survive.
It happens to fast for me to react.
The pain is blinding. Crippling.
The force collapses my lungs, my breath whooshing from between my teeth as my legs stagger back towards the gaping mouth of the arena.
Gasping, I clutch my shoulder, my fingers wrapping around the arrow that juts from the flesh just under my collar bone. Blood warms my fingers, the crimson liquid wrapping around my digits and staining the pale skin around my nails.
The crowd is deafening. Their screams echoing as they catch the first sight of my blood, their hunger stirred as they watch from up above us.
I grit my teeth as the pain rips through my skin, snaking along my entire body, capturing my flesh in fiery fingers. Tears fill my eyes as I look down my skin at the wooden dowel protruding from my skin. I tighten my fingers around the arrow, the brittle wood snapping under the pressure.
My fingers weaken and it falls to the ground, the feathered end bouncing against the broken stone.
Roars thunder through my head as I clench my eyes shut against the dizziness that drips through my mind.
I hear the announcer scream at his podium, his voice so high pitched it rings along the stadium, puncturing my ear drums. I turn my head up, my eyes watering at the early morning light and watch the tiny bulging man jump up and down, his round face staining pink as he huffs and puffs, his finger pointing down towards me.
His eyes a squinted like a gleeful child and he lets a little giggle slip from between his overstuffed lips "First blood" he screams, his tightly curled hair shaking loose around his fat cheeks "First blood! The games have begun!"
Somewhere a buzzer thunders through the arena and I heart jumps at the sound.
My stomach rolls and drops away from me. My body locking, I try and shake my head against the fog that begins to form around the corner of my eyes. Dots dance in my vision and I grind my jaw, working away the unsteadiness that curls around my fingertips.
My head thumps as my assailant roars, his scream thundering through my ears and shaking my body. I can hear his breath as it whooshes from his nostrils, his lips parted around the heavy morning air, he screams out, his face purpling with an emotion I have never felt.
I watch him watch the blood leak from the puncture in my skin, his eyes dilating as the blood stains my skin, the black of his pupil filling the watered blue of his iris.
His lips pull back over yellowed teeth as he snarls, spittle flying from his mouth and glinting in the fast rising sun.
Dressed similar to me, leather wraps around his body like skin over boulders. Bulging shoulder connect to large pipe like arms, covered in ropey veins. His one hand clutches a rough looking bow, the quiver tightly strapped across his heaving chest.
Blood fills his cheeks and I can see the white of a scar that runs from the tip of his eyebrow and up along his shaved scalp. He twists the ball of his foot against the broken concrete ground and his fingers tap against the long curved wood of the bow.
I push away the nausea that fills my emptying stomach and I force my eyes to move away from the man in front of me.
Rusted skeletons of twisted metal are arranged in straight lines, one after another, packed so close the air whistles as it rushed between them. Glass covers the stone, like thousands of diamonds they sparkle in between the dirt, some shimmering like rubies. Grass has through the cracks in the stone and now sways, dancing in the morning wind, blowing the sickly sweet stench of golden summer flowers through the arena.
Walls tower over us, a circle of stone caging us in with the spectators seated in theatre rows above us. Their eyes wide with anticipation, they sit on the edge of those stone seats and wait for my death.
The bow creaks as he pulls back on it, the aged wood protesting as he maneuvers it. I hear the whisper as the feathered end leaves his fingers and I drop. My knees smack against the tarmac and I yelp as the stone find purchase in my skin.
I roll to the side as he rushes towards me, his screams of anger causing my heart to jump into my throat. Adrenaline rushes through my veins and I begin to shake.
My arms feel too heavy, out of control. I try to slide my palms under my body to propel myself up and away from his snarling swing but I'm to unsteady. My limbs move wrong as I bend my knees and slide my feet under my body, to slow, like I'm moving through tree sap.
My legs shake as I attempt to run, my feet numb beneath me, my steps shaky under me and I can feel him gain.
Like a dream my legs move like weights are tied to them. Heavy and disconnected I stumble over twisted metal that mingles with ragged boulders.
The sun is higher now, and I can feel it as it laces burning fingers through the arena, stretching towards my skin as I move farther away from the mouth of the stadium and deeper into a sea of metal bones.
Rays of fire bounce of the bleached stones around us and my eyes water, tears pooling in my lids as I twist my head from side to side, looking for cover, anything to stop the pain, to stop the fear.
I can hear him breathing, heavy and angry; it pushes against my neck, chilling the sweat that lingers against my burning skin. His steps are close, so close they vibrate my feet as I run. I can feel the shift in the air with every pump of his arms, the whisper of his fingers as they brush my arm.
My stomach tightens, rolling and pushing against my throat, my head swims, the pain in my shoulder blistering my reason, makes my movements clumsy.
I twist my head to the side and meet the fired ones of the man who moves behind me. He snarls, a sound so animalistic my heart stutters against my ribcage. His feet pound harder, the slap of the leather seems to echo against the cries of the people above us.
I try to mimic him, push my feet to match his but they aren't working. Panic begins to seep. I can feel it fill my pores as he closes in on me. It leeches through my skin and wraps around my brain. Everything blurs, and tips.
I hear it before I feel it, his hand shoots out and wraps around my arm, jerking it back away from my body, throwing me backwards, my legs whip out from underneath and my body smashes against the glass ridden ground.
The world is swirl of blurry of colours as my head whips backwards and collides with the concrete, my skull striking the ground with a sharp crack. Hundreds of needle like shards pierce my skin as I skid backwards across the pavement before my back snaps across one of the metal skeletons.
My eyes swim as the world around me tilts and turns. I feel heated fingers spread along my scalp as liquid fills the pocket between the corner of my eye and the bridge of my nose. Iron fills my senses and I run my tongue along my teeth, the taste of rusted metal assaulting me.
My stomach revolts and I gag, sharp, violent spasms rack my body as I try and force the nausea away.
The crowd is dull now, barely there. Clogged sound, vibrating against the cotton that fills my ears.
Somewhere I can hear a man scream, a gleeful sound.
A lustful sound. He's happy about something.
White lights pop along my vision, colours that make my eyes burn. Fire settling deep within my corneas, I burn inside out.
I can see feet moving towards me. Black toes wrapped in leather. Beside them drags a ragged metal pipe. Rust crawling along the body it abruptly stops at the tip where it was wrenched free of something. Twisted metal lips snarl at me with every step.
The feet move, the pipe bumps against the upturned stone. The mouth growling as it moves closer.
I twist my head into the ground, rubbing my face against the concrete before turning back towards the feet.
I turn my head and watch as the man above me raises the pipe above his head, a sick smile lines his lips. His fists tighten around the metal, and his shoulders lock.
The sun wraps around his body, like a bloody halo, it makes him glow crimson, the light igniting the veins in his arms, igniting them.
"No" I groan, my head pounding, the world so muted even my voice sounds faraway.
I press my palm into my eye and squint at him again. The pipe it falling towards me, the metal whistling through the air as it rushes towards my head.
My ears pop and sound rushes against my brain. Thousands of voices smash against my head, colliding as I push my torso up from the ground.
The pipe brushes my back as it rings against the concrete.
I fling my body forward and onto my knees. Stones slice against my bare skin as I force my feet under me.
My opponent screams behind me. And I know that sound that will forever linger in my bones.
I push my feet forward and I run. My arms moving beside my body, propelling me away from the danger.
The pain tears at my skin as I move, every cell in my body screaming at me to stop. To end it quickly. It makes me breathless, the searing that runs from my scalp along my spine and through my bones. It burns along my arms, and throbs within my teeth. My tongue feels too big from my mouth, blocking the air from filling my flattened lungs. My head throbs, the pulsing pain that vibrates with every slap of my feet.
I swerve around a metal body and jump over the torn concrete. My feet throb as I land unsteadily on the other side. I slam my palms against the ground to stop my body from toppling over and look over my shoulder.
He isn't running anymore but watching me. The pipe hanging limply in his hand, it dangles just above the ground. Sweat lines his brow, the water catching the sun making it look like tiny gems line his temple.
I can see the muscles in his shoulders tighten as he watches me, the vein in his neck pulsing with his heartbeat.
Slowly I straighten my back, pulling my hands away from the ground and turn to look at him. I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth and drop it back to my side, imagining the red smear that now mars my white skin.
I can still taste the blood along my tongue but I resist the urge to spit it out and squint against the sun that seems to continue to grow.
My legs are unsteady, the bones vibrating in the skin, like standing on melting wax, I sway on my feet. Sharply I shake my head to rid the haze that clings to my body and force them to straighten.
I roll my shoulders to try and loosen the knot that lives in between my shoulder blades, pushing them back to try and break away the pain that lines my spine. I fold my arms over my chest, tucking my hands under each arm to hide the tremble of my fingers.
My breathing is out of control, my lungs fluttering with every breath I take. I can't seem to keep air in body but I push away the pain that lingers in my chest and raise my chin.
I can feel the fingers of the sun as they lick against my skin, sharp fiery nails tearing the skin of my face. The heat is unforgiving, so bright and angry I can feel my flesh flaying. My eyes burn hotter, the whites filling with tears as they try to stop the burn.
I breathe in and hold it, shaking my head to rid the fear that starts to line my throat.
No.
I will not be afraid of the sun.
I force my eyes to open and look at my opponent "That all you got?" I shout over the screams of the people watching us.
His nostrils flare, his eyes darkening in the sun, the black swallowing what little colour there was. His fist tightens around the pipe, his arm coiling at his side.
I don't wait for him to move.
I lurch forward, my hands out stretched to grab at one of the metal bars that protrude from the skeleton in front of me. I wrap my fingers around the bloody orange of the pipe and wrench. My arms are shaking again, the pain lining the veins and weakening my limbs.
I grit my teeth and twist the iron where it was welded to the frame. The pewter is cracked and weak. I shove my shoulder against it, the throbbing from the arrow awakened as I smash against the metal. I pull away from it again, my elbows locked as I jerk it. It screeches as it moves and I stumble when it snaps off.
His scream seems to travel through the ground, the rage wrapping around my feet and shaking the bones in my body.
I raise the pipe out, the jagged tip pointing towards his rushing form. My arms spasm as the muscles cry against the strain, my elbows shaking and I grit my teeth. I can feel the head of the arrow move in my shoulder, the tip scraping against the bone and I grind my jaw against the fire the blooms around the wound.
He rushes towards me, the bar raised over his head. His eyes are wild, the black filling every inch of the white, like a man possessed by something angrier then I have ever seen.
I match his movements, ignoring the fire and raising the pipe higher.
He jumps over the metal barrier between us, his feet making my pulse with his landing and brings the metal down at me. I bring the pipe up and block his attack, the force of the clash rings through the arena and vibrates down my arms, and shakes my body.
He snarls, his lips pulling back against his teeth and growls. I force down the gag as his decaying breath washes over my face.
I push back against him but it doesn't seem to even register. His eyes find mine and I can feel the hate roll off and smack me in the face.
"Are you afraid to die?" he spits, his voice higher pitched than I thought it would be and I begin to wonder how old he really is.
"No" I growl as I push against him again.
His lips pull back in a smile, his pointed teeth pressing against his bottom lip, the way his mouth curls is angry, hateful.
"You should be" he pulls away from me and brings the bar back down again.
I raise my own but the force throws me off, my legs begin to shake again, and my arms crumble. He does it again, the bar rings through the stadium as it clangs with mine across my stomach. My legs stumble back and feet slip out from under me.
My head whips back against the concrete and my ears rings. White lights dance along my vision as I try to blink away the vertigo that curls around my eyes.
He steps over me, his hulking body shadowing mine. He falls to his knees, the leather of his pants brushing my arm.
I can hear the crowd around us, their voices ringing so loudly I don't doubt that they could be heard all through the city.
"Scared now?" he asks, his smiles still in place. I shake my head slowly, trying to clear it, a groan escapes my lips.
I watch him raising the metal bar above his head. The sun makes it shin, the light bouncing of the ragged edges of the aged pipe.
His eyes find their mark; they trace the curve of my hair line and linger on the blood that colours the skin. His face is filled with lust. He wants to kill me. To watch my eyes fade and the blood to run from the wound he made.
The weight of the iron on my stomach makes my fingers twitch. I tighten my grip around the dirty edges, the metal pressing against my palms.
It's heavy, so heavy I feel my face colouring with the effort to lift it. I scream against the rage that builds in my stomach and pull the pipe away from my body and up.
And then silence.
I watch his eyes widen, they fall from my forehead to my eyes. I look away and force the pipe harder, twisting the end and digging it farther in.
He wheezes, something I imagine was meant to be a scream. His hands fall away and the bar slips from his fingers. It bounces, the metal ends smashing against to the concrete beside my head.
He brings his fingers up and wraps them around the iron that protrudes from his throat. His breath is a whisper, and wet, a gurgle, like he's breathing water. His mouth falls open and red stains his teeth.
Air catches in his throat and he coughs. A spray of crimson falling over my face. I scream then, a sound that rings through my head and echoes along my skull.
His eyes seem to fade, they lose their anger, they lose everything and I watch as he dies.
His body goes limp and falls across my stomach, the pipe forced from his skin as his weight falls to the ground.
I can feel heat drip down my face and my stomach lurches. I want to wipe it away but my arms are pinned. I shake my head, trying to shake the thoughts from my brain and press the side of my face against the heated stone.
I want to cry, to have some sort of release but nothing comes. Just the pain of my body and the knowledge that I took the life of someone and now they're lying on top of me.
Dead.
People rush towards me, a group of black-clothed men, their shoulders pressed tightly together. They huddle around me and pull the body of the man off of me.
His lifeless eyes look back at me as I watch them pull him away.
His face is softer without the anger and my stomach lurches.
A boy.
I killed a boy.
Someone grabs my shoulders and pulls my body from the ground. Standing me on my feet, they grab my wrists and pull them behind my back.
I bite back against the moan of pain that rises in my throat as the arrowhead moves in my shoulder.
I turn to meet the eyes of Edward and I growl. The sound rips through me before I can stop it. His hands tighten around my wrists and he jerks me towards the podium where the rotund man stands, his hair wild and his face coloured like the blood on my face.
He clears his throat, a sharp high pitched noise and taps the microphone in front of his face. I can see the happiness that curls around his eyes.
He doesn't care who won.
He just wanted to watch someone die.
My stomach turns again.
"Winner, winner!" he sings, his voice travels around the arena and he jumps again. "Another winner!"
The crowd screams too, their enthusiasm back like it never left. Now turning their love from a man many probably knew to a stranger now covered in his blood.
I shake my head.
My heart aching for the man who just tried to murder me.
I can feel Edward standing behind me, his hands wrapped tightly around my arms. His chest brushes my back but I feel nothing.
"Don't say anything" he whispers into my ear. So low I wonder if anyone else heard it. One turn of my head tells me they didn't. I work my jaw and I turn my head back to the happy man in front of me.
I watch as he makes his way from the podium and through the crowd. They reach to touch him and he smiles back at their hungry faces. His body waddles as he steps down the stairs and disappears in the ground only to appear again through the mouth of the arena.
His feet are covered in black leather, pointed at the toe; they curl up towards his face. Bleached pants and a brightly dyed tunic are stretched over his swollen body, the treads straining at the seams.
Edward pulls me towards the man so he doesn't have to move far into the arena. But the way his body is puffing and his face is coloured I imagine he is grateful for it.
In his hand is a small cylinder and when he speaks into his voice booms through the stadium.
He smiles as we near him "Tracker James here with the recent winner of this morning's fight." He pauses and holds the mini microphone to my lips waiting for me to tell him my name.
I look down at the little speaker in front of my face before looking back up at him.
He frowns before continuing "A female Darkie." He puts on another smile and turns to the crowd "She put on quite the show, didn't she!" he yells and they yell back. He smiles and turns back to me "How does it feel to have won?" he asks and holds the mini.
My eyes find his and I stare at him. "Like I just murdered a kid" I say and my throat tightens.
Edward squeezes my wrist and growls behind me.
Tracker twists his mouth before smiling again "Aren't you witty" he reaches forward and taps my nose and grimaces at the blood that comes off on his finger.
I growl, the sound making my throat vibrate. "Don't touch me."
Tracker tsks and smiles "don't be rude."
I narrow my eyes "Fine" I snap and look him "please don't fucking touch me."
Edward pulls me away from Tracker as I spit out the blood that still lingers on my tongue.
He screams as it lands on his white pants, forever staining them.
"You little" his screaming doesn't need a microphone as some pulls away the mini and rushes him from the arena.
I can hear it echo even after he's gone.
xxx
"How hard is that?" rants Edward as he drags me through the mouth of the arena and back to the hen house. "'Don't say anything' what part of that did you not understand!" He's yelling as he pulls me.
"Is that rhetorical or do you actually want me to answer that?" I look over my shoulder at him.
"You have no idea how much you just fucked things up" he shakes his head and pushes me again.
"Alright, rhetorical, apparently" Edward growls and moves me forward faster "what is with you and manhandling me, do you just enjoy pushing me around?" I narrow my eyes at him.
"Bella" he snaps, his teeth clenched tightly together.
I look back in front of me and frown.
We move in silence. The candles that line the sides of the hall flicker casting dripping faces on the damp stone walls. I imagine the sound of their screams, the hundreds of people that pasted through these halls and never came back. Like the stone absorbed each person's voices as they died just beyond the darkness.
We round a corner and light pours through the high arched doorframe. I can hear voices ahead of us and I grimace.
Cluck, cluck.
Edward sighs behind me as we walk over the threshold but doesn't release me.
All the little hens look up from the tight circles they stood in and leer at Edward.
They greet him, all waves and smiles as they rush forward and ask if he needs anything.
I look over my shoulder at him and grimace as he smiles at them.
I've never seen him smile before and it's pretty.
Gross.
"Now girls, give the young Prince some room, don't crowd" she wags her finger at the chickens and they nod their heads and slump away.
"Prince?" I raise an eyebrow at him and snort.
Edward grunts but doesn't say anything.
Esme places a hand on shoulder and looks over me at him. Edward huffs but release my wrists and steps away.
Esme looks down at my face and wipes her thumb under my eye.
My back tightens and I fight the urge to bite her.
"Esme" Edward warns but she shakes her head.
"Are you okay?" she looks down at me, her eyes search mine.
"Peachy" I mutter and look away from her.
Esme sighs and nods her head. Edward takes my hands and brings me over to the bench where I spent the night before. He lifts my hands and locks them into the metal cuffs.
My shoulders slump as I lean back against the stone wall.
He leans forward and snaps my ankles down to.
He stands and looks down at me but speaks the women behind me "my Father is coming." They squeal and start moving around again.
"Oh goody" I mutter.
"Don't speak" he snaps "listen this time" and turns to talk to Esme.
I glare at his back as he moves away from me and over to her table. He bends his head and she frowns.
The exhaustion starts at my fingers. First my nails numb then it runs along my knuckles and palms. They tingle before it spread along my arms and punctures my shoulders. They tighten and my eyes water.
My legs burn, the fire licking up the bruises that light my skin. My knees throb and my stomach rolls as the pain filly my organs like water.
My eyes are heavy, like stones fill my sockets I can't lift my head after it falls forward.
It's a long time before Edward's father decides to grace us with his presence.
By the time he does, my muscles are so cramped tears fill my eyes when I move.
My head is hanging, my eyes shut tightly against the fire in my shoulder when the door opens. It's heavy clang rings through the room and the small voices that had been weaving through the bodies stop dead.
I imagine people looking up at the man and ducking their head when his eyes meet theirs.
I don't look up.
I'm too tired to move.
Too care.
"Esme" he greets her and I picture her curtseying before his feet.
"Father" Edward says to the man.
"Edward" he greets back.
There are no more words exchanged between them.
People shuffle around me, their bodies moving quickly to make room for the King, I guess he is.
He moves to stand in front of me, his shoes peeking into my line of sight.
They remind me of Tracker's shoes, black and pointed.
"Bella" he says, his voice impatient and I realize he's waiting for me to rise and bow to him.
I test the chains, they hang lose off the walls and I know I could stand if I wanted to.
But I don't.
So I don't.
I sit with my chin resting on my chest and stare at his pointed shoes.
Someone above me sighs and I watch a hand reach out and pull me up.
Jake stands beside the King, his face impassive as he squeezes the arrow into my skin.
I hiss, the pain whipping against my chest and tears spring to my eyes.
"You bow when the King enters the room." He snaps his eyes cold.
"He's not my King" I gasp out as he presses harder.
"Bow" he growls.
"No" I pant.
"Bow!" he yells, the vein in his temple trembles as his face fills with colour.
"Jacob" snaps Edward's father "that's enough."
"But Your Highness" starts Jacob but he shakes his head.
Jacob grunts and drops me back on the bench.
"When Bella is ready she will bow" he says and turns to smile at me.
"I'll never bow to you" I spit at him.
He sighs and nods his head "Not to worry dear, there are ways to change anyone's mind" He smiles then and touches my cheek.
I grind my jaw "My thoughts are mine" I bite.
"For now" he turns away from me and moves through the crowd that now fills the prep room.
"I'm not someone's property!" I scream after him "You don't own me!"
"Until next time, Bella" he says over his shoulder "I'm excited for your next fight, you did so well."
I watch his back as he walks through the doorway and it slams behind him.
Anger builds inside my chest, the furry of what happens just beyond this room crushing my throat. I try and breathe but it catches. I shake my head and press my face into the side of my arm.
My lips tremble as I try and push away the pain in my skin.
Somewhere around someone is talking to me but I don't hear them.
I close my eyes and wish for darkness.
For everything to fade.
But behind my lids I can see the boy looking back at me.
His blood staining his dark skin, shinning like black paint in the sun.
His teeth are a faint pink colour as his mouth hangs open.
Then he blinks at me.
"Murderer"
I nod my head because he's right.
I'm a murderer.
A/N: HELLO!
So I'm back with a new chapter. It was too long of a wait, I know, and I'm sorry!
Liked it? Let me know. PLEASE.
Peace and massive hugs.