S.M owns all characters.

All mistakes are my own.

Entertainment – Rise Against

Is this only entertainment

Pull the curtains, places please.

We've learned to sing and dance, and cry on cue.

But this is more than entertainment

In a world so sick with pain

This is the only thing that's real or true.

The world that once lived was messy.

And angry.

So angry.

And lonely.

In the books that survived and that I was taught from I learned that the past is something that should be left behind.

They talked of pain. Of hurt. Of blood. And of war.

Pictures etched out the world that I had missed.

The famine that plagued sands, and the disease that haunted the skies.

They talked of rulers who slaughtered thousands and religions that hated.

And I always wondered where the beauty in the world went.

Or if it even existed.

Did they live thousands of years blanked in darkness?

Mother used to take my hand and walk me to the mouth of the Dark City. Her fingers would trail along the ridges of the rock wall as she laughed and sang loudly. Her voice would echo.

She had a beautiful voice.

She would show me the stars. Her fingers tracing the tiny lights and naming the shapes she drew.

She would recite to me stories that weren't written but passed down by memory.

She would tell me about how the wars had ended, and the blood had dried, and the pain had faded. She talked of how the rulers were now in the clutches of the souls they destroyed and the churches were hated just as much as they too would hate.

She talked about how the people who did bad things where given what they deserved in the end.

And that, in itself was beautiful.

I try to push that away as I sit here because I have to wonder:

When did I do such bad that I deserved this?

And I why can't I see the beauty anymore?

Do bad people only see things in shades of grey? Does the colour slip away from you as the blood of those your murder trace your fingers?

I wonder if my punishment will be beautiful.

And if it is, beautiful for who?

There is no beauty in the compound. In this life.

Is that my punishment?

I want to scream for an answer but I know no one is listening.

They haven't been for a while.

They don't want to see this.

They don't want to see how ugly the world is now.

I don't blame them.

I wish I could forget too.

xxx

They move around me like I'm not really there.

Like I don't exist.

A ghost of myself.

I wonder if that helps them push away the thoughts of the people who only went through the arch on the far side of the wall once.

If never meeting the eyes of the people they prepare keeps the dreams away when the candles are blown out.

They move around the room, their hands busy as they sew and scrub at the recently used armor. The blood from people they didn't even know the name of, stains their pale hands and gathers under their finger nails. They grimace and squawk about how trying it is.

Women pat each other on the shoulders as they move past each other, a silent comfort that they feel their pain.

My face twists as I watch them talk about the death of innocent people like they're discussing this year's predicted winter.

Nausea trickles along my spine as I shift against the wooden bench. Pain licks along the bruises that line my body and for the first time I want to cry.

Tears push against my lids as I imagine the looks on the faces of the people who have come before me. How they would have watched these women prepare them for the last day of their life, their blistered wrists shackled in the rusting metal cuffs that still linger with the smell of that metallic tang that only comes from a seeping wound.

They would sit where I sit, their heads barely hanging, still strong from the meal they had previous eaten and that last bit of determination that wasn't beaten from their bodies. Their heart would pound, a punishing rhythm that makes each breathe shake as it escapes their lungs. Their feet would still burn, the skin of their heels cracked from the forest trek that they were pushed through. Their flesh would still itch from the bag they pulled over their faces, their cheeks still raw from the way it rubbed against them for those unyielding hours.

They would watch the women around them, try and meet their eyes. Make them see them for more than entertainment. Their eyes would plead with anyone stupid enough to look and they would scream when they looked away just as quickly as they did when they snuck that peek.

Pain shivers down my vertebrae as one of the hens looks at point between my eyes, her pupils running down the river that has long since dried as sickly brown before her mouth contorts and she turns away.

I wonder if it's the blood that disgusts her, or just me.

Esme stands only three tables away from my chained feet, her eyes focused on something on the table before her. I watch the way her shoulders stiffen as someone whispers in her ear. A large woman, her hair pulled tightly away from her crimson face stands close to her, her bulging shoulder brushing her delicate one as she leans close and mutters something.

Esme shakes her head, her eyebrows drawing together and flicks her hand to move the woman away.

The large one huffs and the ample of her cheeks flush darker.

"I'm aware" mutters Esme, her eyes never rising.

"The others are uncomfortable" says the other.

"They'll deal" she says and turns her body slightly signaling the discussion is over.

"They shouldn't have to work in a dangerous environment" snaps the other.

"She's chained to the wall, Ingrid" Esme raises her brow to the woman "and injured."

"They would feel better—" begins Ingrid before Esme raises her hand again.

"They'll deal" it's final.

Esme turns away from Ingrid and goes back to her needle work, her head bent close to the table and the hair around her face falling to curtain her view. I wonder if she notices the way Ingrid hesitates, her bird like eyes flicking from me, to the other woman and back to Esme before she huffs and turns away from her.

I don't see her shoulders relax even when the shadow of Ingrid disappears from her light. Her eyes flick up to meet mine and they close as they begin to trace the blood that stains my skin.

I wonder if she knows that it's not all mine.

That the boy sprayed me when he died.

That his last breath was choked and he coughed.

I will never forget it.

I wonder if she knew the boy.

Did she know his name?

Was he a good person outside of the arena? Was that his first fight?

His last.

I want to shake the thoughts from head. Force them out and into the sunlight to die but they lodge themselves deep within my brain, their broken fingers caressing the memories of my mother and her blood bloomed chest.

Esme opens her eyes and they meet mine again.

I don't turn away.

I let her see the way I wear the blood. That it's spattered along my cheek bones and eye lids, but trailed from my hair line along my eye and pooled in the dip of my nose. Are my teeth still stained?

My lips are raw against each other as I rub them together. I can taste the metal and my stomach turns.

It lingers along my tongue as I swallow.

I want to wash away the memories as they line my throat.

Her eyes beg mine. I can see the way they search my face for answer.

"It was painful" I tell her, my throats tight and the words are choked. A mumble of what the sentence should have been "and he suffered."

I don't tell her to see the pain the lines her face.

But so she knows.

Because she cared about him.

And I hoped that someone did.

That he wasn't just another body that died on the sand.

That he was loved and he will be mourned.

People around me stifle sounds.

They're shocked.

I wonder if they really know what happens out there, or are they just the people that clean up afterwards.

She closes her eyes again and nods.

She doesn't open them for a long time and I wonder if she hates me like I do.

That she will pray for my death as the moon rises now.

Will she hope for revenge?

Does she want me to die?

A life for a life.

Or does she understand I didn't have a choice.

That I didn't want to.

Does she think I did it because I wanted him to die?

Or that I wanted to survive?

Does she blame me or the society she lives in?

When she opens her eyes, she nods, her pupils move with the light, wavering as the candles dance and they shine. I know she wants to cry, and I wish I could tell her I'm sorry. That I didn't want to hurt her. But I would be lying.

I had wanted to hurt her.

Do want to hurt her.

She dressed me to fight.

She pulled my hair from my face and braided it down my back, wound it around my head.

She knew that once she got the amour back, it would be bloody.

Did she hope it would be my blood?

I try to remind myself that with death there is pain no matter who it happens to. That it's never as easy as we make it out to be. And that sometimes death is unavoidable.

Sometimes you can't stop it.

My stomach turns because I know that's not true.

I killed him.

I wonder if she feels powerful playing God with the rest of them. And that her sadness is because of the power lost.

I shake my head against the thought.

She knew that boy.

He deserves to be remembered.

And not for the body that was dragged from the arena.

His head cracking against the stones. His neck hanging backwards, his body broken.

Boneless.

But for the boy I never knew.

He would have killed you, I remind myself, he wouldn't have even blinked.

I push away the thought because I know he would.

But I don't want to be like him.

He wouldn't have even mourned you.

Wouldn't have even cared.

I look away from the tears that fall from her eyes when she blinks.

Quick drops that tumble to the table beneath her.

They aren't the kind that slide down your cheeks. That take time. Shredding your soul as they roll down your skin.

They're the kind that leave your body as soon as they spill. They splash against the wood, leaving little watermarks, like explosions behind and you stare at them like you can stare at your pain.

I know that if I could cry, they'd roll down my skin, crippling me on the inside as I'm pulled apart from within. They wouldn't stop, and I wouldn't try.

But they don't deserve to know how much it hurts.

I remind myself of that.

That to give in is to give them the satisfaction of knowing I'm in pain.

And I can't do that.

But on the inside, my lips tremble and I mourn the loss of someone I didn't even know.

Someone I killed.

He would have killed you.

You shouldn't care.

But I do.

And I know that the bad things I've done will punish me for the rest of the days I spend here.

Because you can't see beauty when everything is drowning in the lives of those you've taken.

Everyone here sees nothing but grey.

xxx

I'm awake when they bring in the next victim.

I can hear her soft cries from behind the heavy wooden door, small sobs that cling to the walls as she moves past them. I can feel the sounds slither along the stone and grip at my throat, tugging as I try and breathe.

The hinges creak as the lock is turned. Two figures fill the door, the light from the candles just outside straining the light the dark room. I squint against the pain of the fire and lift my head to watch Jacob push someone through.

A small woman, her bones protruding from her skin, pressing against the paper thin flesh in jerky movements, stumbles into the room. Her feet barely lift as she walks; her tunic tattered at the edges and stained. She doesn't lift her head as they move, her hair falling around her face in a nest of burrs and bile. Scars mar her pale skin, the torn flesh shining against the little light that manages to drip through the open doorway.

Her feet are raw, blood caked so heavily around her ankles that I know that not long ago she used to fight the chains that are wrapped around my skin.

Jacob's hand tightens around her small arm and pulls her upright, his face a mask of indifference, his lips curl as he looks at the small woman and jerks her forward harder.

Her feet are heavy; I can see it in the way her legs shake to follow his large stride. Her thighs quiver against the weight of her own body, the muscles jumping as she locks her jaw.

"Come on" growls Jacob and tugs on her arm again.

I try to imagine what she used to be like, the way she probably used to fight them as they hauled her to the prep room, the way she would scream, her legs kicking out as they pulled her through the dark halls.

I picture her in the mess hall deep within the earth's confines in the Dark City. Her face clear of pain as she laughed with someone who sat closed to her. Someone who was mesmerized by her beauty and hung onto her every word like it was the last thing she would ever say.

I wonder if that person still thinks about her, and her words.

If they imagine her sitting beside them as they stare at the seat she used to occupy.

Did they hear her scream as when they took her? Or were they one of the people they took too.

I want to push away the thoughts as they cloud my brain, dripping with pain they lace raw fingers around my heart and push against it with every beat.

I lungs wheeze as I try and breathe through my mouth, my tongue so dry it's heavy against my teeth. Blood clings to my senses, the metallic tang lingering between my gums.

The woman bows her head as Jacob jerks her through the room and I wonder if I look like that to her now.

Broken.

My shoulder burns as I push my body to rest against the stone wall and watch as they move towards me.

Pain nestled deep between my eyes throbs in time with my heart beat, and I grit my teeth against the nausea that rolls in my empty stomach as it clenches against the stale air that passes between my teeth.

Jacob tosses the woman beside, her spine cracking against the wall. She bites her li.

I can see the blood that begins to well around her teeth, but she doesn't release it. Her shoulders shake, trembling as Jacob moves around her, plucking her bone like arms and tightening the cuffs around her wrist. He doesn't even bother with her ankles, just picks up her legs by her calves and adjusts them.

She doesn't fight.

Just stares ahead a she cries.

Jacob nods at his work as he looks down at the broken woman and taps her chin.

"Don't move" he says, his eyes tracing her face then he laughs and shakes his head.

Anger wells along my skin, a sick bile that rolls through my stomach as I watch this man stare at the woman and enjoy her pain.

I pull against my chains, my shoulder igniting under the movements. The bite of metal is sharp as it digs along the skin of my wrists.

Jacob turns and straightens "I haven't forgotten about you" he reassures me like I'm supposed to be worried.

I growl under my breath and jerk my legs against the cuffs.

Jacob sucks on his front teeth before moving around the chained woman and coming to crouch in front of me.

He reaches out and tips my chin up to look him in the eyes.

I jerk away from him and his fingers pinch my skin.

My eyes water as his nails dig against my chin.

"Don't disrespect someone of higher status then you" he tells me, his voice a sharp snap.

"All I see is a pussy with a gun" I sneer towards the riffle strapped to his back. The one that was used against the Darkie in the ruins.

Angela smiles at me. Her dark hair falling over her shoulders, and her eyes dancing. Then the shoot rings. I watch the bullet as it slices the air and presses against her forehead before splitting through the skin, cracking the bone. I watch my best friend paint the wall.

I press against the sob that clings to my lungs. My eyes burn and my throat collapses into itself.

Then he hits me.

My head snaps sideways against the force, my temple colliding with the stone wall beside me. The woman wails, her sobs filling the silence.

Things tilt, they spin and I force the nausea as it fills my throat.

Pain fills my lips and I know he split it. It colours my skin as it drips.

"You bitch" he snarls and I wonder if he's going to hit me again.

I spit against the stained floor at his feet and look at him "That the only way you can get hard? Beating on someone? Must be lonely at night."

His fists tighten, the cords in his neck straining against the crimson flesh that holds the heavy column of his throat.

His eyes flick towards the door before he steps closer to me, the heat from his anger laps against my bar legs and I return the burn in his eyes. Jacob reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, his finger digging the arrow through my skin. Pain flares along my spine and I go ridge, my teeth gritting as I try and wash away the pain as it layers my skin.

Tears prick my eyes.

He sees.

His smile curls his lips into a jagged smirk before he leans forward.

"Do you really want to test me" he hisses, spittle flies from his lips and splatters against my cheek "you're nothing but a cheap entertainment, no one would miss you, they wouldn't even notice."

"Jake" calls someone behind him. Jacob's body stiffens and his face tightens. His eyes cut over his shoulder again and he growls under his breath, his fingers releasing my shoulder and I slump against the cold stone.

"Edward" he says and steps away from me.

Edward's body fills the doorway as he leans against the open door, his shoulder pressed against the hinges. His fingers slide along the cylinder of a flashlight as he flips it between his fingers.

"Busy?" he raises a brow before pushing off and stepping into the darkness.

"Just delivered" says Jacob as he motions to the shaking woman.

Edward nods before walking towards us "Any reason she's still here?" he nods to me and I glare at him.

"I have a name" I mutter and he turns to look at me.

"And?"

I narrow my eye at him "You're insufferable."

He ignores me and watches Jacob "she was supposed to be moved when the ladies left."

"I have other duties besides babysitting" says Jacob, his teeth clenched.

"You're duties are to follow my orders" says Edward, his eyes cool.

I watch Jacob's face tighten, his cheeks filling with blood as he clenches his jaw. He breathes through his nose before nodding "My apologies, please excuse my behaviour" he doesn't mean it. "I'll take her to Carlisle right now" No he won't.

Edward sighs and shakes his head "I'll do it myself" he turns towards me "You're dismissed" he says over his shoulder. Jacob glares at the back of his head before looking at me. His eyes narrow as he promises we'll continue later before turning on his heels and marching through the open door.

Edward crouches down in front of me, his eyes find mine and they narrow "Don't even think about doing anything stupid."

"What's your definition of stupid?" I cock my head and look down at him.

"Anything that's going through your head right now" you mutter as you reach from the metal cuffs around my ankles.

"Well that's a little vague" I frown down at the top of his head.

"I wish you'd stop talking" he says as the cuffs snap off.

My ankles burn as the stale air wraps around them. I can feel the dried blood crack as I twist my feet in slow circles.

Edward's hand snaps out and grasps my ankle before I can push it off the floor and plant it between his legs. "Stupid" he says and grips both of my ankles in one of his hands. I narrow my eyes at him and struggle against his hold. "Stop" he snaps and his hand tightens.

"No!" I shout, my wrists tugging at the shackles as I twist my ankles in his grip "I'm never going to stop fighting you. For as long I live in the hell hole I'm going to fight you" I grit between my teeth.

Shades trace Edward's cheek bones "you're only hurting yourself, darlin'" he says and stands over me, his hand leaving my ankles to reach my hands. He fiddles with one then the other, snapping them open at the same time. I kick out at him and the side steps the assault quickly. His hand curls around my arrowless shoulder and hauls me up.

My legs are weak; the blood rushing through my body makes them quiver as he sets me on my feet. Needles prick my skin as I shake under my own weight.

Edward pulls a pair of leather cuffs from his belt and wraps them around my throbbing wrists. They're soft against my raw skin and my shoulder drop under the relief.

Edward stands behind me, his hand on the small of my back he pushes me forward "Move" he says and I force my shaking legs to take step.

The woman whimpers as we move our way through the tables and towards the door. I look over my shoulder at her slightly blue tinted eyes and I throat tightens. Her eyes follow mine as I'm pushed out the door.

The last thing I see tears filling her eyes again and rolling down his dirtied cheeks.

She's going to fight again.

And I wonder if she's happy at the possibility of dying or scared of the possibility of surviving.

xxx

Edward leads me through the candle lit halls and I wonder what time of day it is.

What day it is.

There aren't any windows in the long winding halls. Nothing to light the way but the waving fire from the tip of the off white wax that drips from the wrought iron holders along the walls.

Edward's steps are steady, the calm footfalls mocking my jerky movements as my bones grind together.

He nods to people that pass him, but he never opens his mouth, never says a word in return to the cheery greetings that people cast his way.

I watch the way their faces fall when all they receive is a quick jerk of his head and I wonder if they wish for some sort of encouragement.

We follow the hall before turning right and walking down the slight slope of the floor to the door to the compound.

Edward pulls the key from his pocket, unlocks the door and steps inside the death room.

I don't see the faces of the people around me, just their eyes. Wide and white they watch the Day Walker pull me through the mess and to the closed door of the doc. Edward knocks sharply before pushing it in and pulling me with him.

Carlisle looks up from his desk and he shakes his head and pushes away "I was hoping we wouldn't be seeing each other so soon" he says to me and nods towards the exam bed again.

"Likewise" I pull my arm from Edwards grip and limp my way over.

Carlisle nods his head towards my wrist and Edward unties and pulls them from my skin. I flex my fingers and twist my wrists as I prop myself up on the table for the second time in less than two days.

Carlisle steps up to me and leans forward. My back stiffens as he reaches behind me and pulls the leather choker from my throat.

He drops it to the table and unhooks my sleeves and slides them off as well.

He tilts my chin to the side as he eyes the weeping wound.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head "Arrow?" he asks over his shoulder and Edward nods.

"Someone let him sneak it in" says Edward, his mouth tight.

"They always do" Carlisle turns away from me to his desk. "This is the second time you have come to me with an arrow wound" he says to me.

"People like shooting at me" I try and shrug, the skin along my shoulders is tight and I wince.

"No moving" says Edward and I glare at him.

"Evidently" says Carlisle and comes back with the same bottle as before and a pair of tongs.

I bite my lip as he pours the cleaner on a cloth and wipes the tongs before disinfecting the area around the wound.

My eyes water as the burn settles in my shoulder. I turn away as he moves towards me with the forceps.

Edward is watching Carlisle, his eyes fixed on the metal they move towards my skin. They're cold, and I jump as he presses them against my shoulder. He grunts and motions Edward forward and nods at my hands.

"No moving" he repeats and places his hands over mine, successfully holding me in place and dwarfing my own.

Carlisle presses the cold utensil against my heated skin and I grit my teeth as it follows the path the arrow took. The tip of the clamps brushes the wooden shaft and my stomach turns. Pain rips through my skin and I'm shaking.

I can feel as he slowly lets them open, stretching my skin from the inside. They grip the broken wooden tip and gently tug it from the confines of my flesh. A whimper escapes my lips as he pulls the pointed tip and small piece of dowel from my skin and drops it into the tray he set beside my hand.

I can feel the blood slowly seep from the gaping flesh around my collar bone and my head spins.

"Hold her up" says Carlisle as he turns away from me and grabs a long strip of white fabric.

Edward's hands leave mine and wrap around my back, his fingertips brushing my rib cage.

Carlisle presses the stinging cloth against my shoulder and the breath I managed to take in whoosh from between my teeth. He presses it against my skin before binding it with the clean fabric.

I grimace as he ties it under my arm "Ouch" I mutter and pull away from the hands behind me "I'm fine now." Edward jerks away from me and scowls.

"You done?" he asks Carlisle and he shakes his head.

"Gotta check her head" he nods to the blood that stains my face and I raise my hand to touch my matted hair. "Turn your head" he reaches out and twists my chin so I looking at Edward as he probes my skull.

His eyes are narrowed as they watch the doc examine my head before he turns and looks at the wall behind my body.

"Can you tell me your name?" asks Carlisle.

"You know my name" I say.

There is a pause.

I sigh.

"This is ridiculous."

"Name" he mutters as he checks my head again.

I roll my eyes. "Bella"

"Last?"

"Like it fucking matters" I scoff.

"Last?" Carlisle asks again and I pull away from him.

"No."

Edward moves closer "Bella" he warns, his voice low.

"I know my name, doesn't mean you need to know."

"I need to make sure you don't have a concussion" says Doc and I narrow my eyes.

"You'll just have to take my word for it" I cross my arms over my chest.

"I would feel better if—"

"I suppose it's a good thing I don't care if you would feel better if I told you, eh?"

Edward moves forward again but Doc puts his hand up "it's fine Edward." He turns towards me "Follow my finger" and he moves it past my eyes and I follow it, my gazing tracking it. He nods and steps away "You're fine."

"Oh yay, I'm all set to do it again."

Edward narrows his eyes and steps up beside me, his fingers curling around my elbow.

"Oh yes" Carlisle mutters as he goes back to his desk "I heard you quite something, a real gem. Show stopping if I remember correctly."

Show stopping.

My throat clenches as I think of how the show was stopped.

The blood on my face itches.

I sneer at his white covered back "That makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside, really it does. To know I can help you sick bastards get your rocks off" I narrow my eyes at Edward as he glare back down at me "A dream come true."

"It was a pleasure, Bella" says Carlisle, ignoring me, from his desk, his back to us. "Let's hope you aren't back so soon, yeah?"

"Whatever" I mutter as Edward pulls me from the room and slams the door shut behind us.

"Watch your mouth" he snaps as he pulls me past the Darkie that lay on the floor near the door. "Carlisle isn't the one you're mad at, don't take it out on him" he pushes me down on my bed and stands above me.

Always above me.

"You think I'm mad?" My teeth clench as I work my jaw. "Of all the words that could be used to describe how I feel right now, mad doesn't even begin to cover it." I tighten my fists. "I just watched someone die Edward. I watched his life drain from his eyes and colour the ground. I felt him die. I made him die." I swallow the sand that lines my throat. "I can't even begin to imagine what mad feels like." I shake my head "You took my from the only place that has ever been home, murdered my family, my best friend and then you forced me to murder someone, someone's family, someone's best friend. You made me like you" I spit the word at him. "You want me to lay the blame on someone? Ignore the fact that everyone else here sits and watches those fights, cheers for someone to win? Does that make them good people? Because they aren't the ones fighting? Does that make them any less guilty?" He works his jaw as I look at him, he's angry.

Mad.

"You want to know how I'm feeling? I'm not mad, I'm fucking furious, and when I get free, because I promise you, somehow I'm going to get out of here, you're going to be the first one I show exactly how angry I really am!" I screech as my anger boils through my body.

His face is so tight he looks about to crack. Blood pounds in the vein along his temple and his lips are pressed so tightly they're white.

His eyes are burning, the green flaring as they trace along my flushed face before he turns away, his boots clipping against the stone floor. He opens the door and slams it shut behind him.

Alice is sitting with her back against the headboard like she always does.

I turn to look her in the eyes and he purses her lips.

"You have blood on your face" she says before turning away and laying down, her back facing me.

I run my fingers along my cheek "yeah" I mutter.

"Did it hurt?" she asks over her shoulder.

"Did what hurt?"

"When you killed him" she says, her voice low.

"Yeah" I mumble "it did."

"Good" she nods to herself "you're still one of us."

Silence seems to lick at my legs. My head throbs with my pulse.

"I've killed before him" I tell her.

She says nothing.

"One of the people who were trying to kidnap me."

"Did he deserve it?" she asks.

"Is that for me to decide?"

"Is it?" she asks.

"He would have done worse to me" I say.

"Probably" she agrees.

"It didn't feel the same" I say.

"That was survival" she says "this, this is entertainment."

It's her words that keep me up at nights and I wonder if she's right.

Then I wonder if she sees colourful world.

Or if hers is just as grey as mine.

A/N: 'Sup lovelies?

Yup, back with another chapter. whoo! Although not much happens in this bad boy. Don't worry, it'll pick up again! I SWEAR.

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