I squeeze my toes against the mat and hold my stare on 96, I'm trying to at least seem confident or feel any kind of adrenaline in my veins but I don't feel anything. Usually, I would have fresh adrenaline flowing throw my veins by now but… what happened with Chloe has obviously affected me more than I'd like to admit. I bite my lip nervously as the fourth years crowd around the centre mat. 130 sits next to 89 and he gives me a nod which I translate as encouragement, I don't know why he believes in me. I don't even believe I can win.

'Alright, let's start this thing' 96 pesters, agitated with free adrenaline. How annoying.

At that we bow at each other and then at the crowd, showing respect to each other and the people around us. I try to piece together my scattered mind and think. 96 is an attacker and I know his good punch knocked out 72 so I must at all costs dodge his punches.

The match starts. 96 edges closer to me with his fists high protecting his face like mine, he goes in for a punch but luckily I dodge it. Missing one punch doesn't stop him from administrating a further two blows into my body. Ouch.

In a reflex action I try to hook the back of his leg with the heel of my foot but it repels against the hard texture of his calf muscle. His leg doesn't even quaver when hit but in return raises to try and kick my face. I dodge it and swiftly move to the other end of the mat to temporarily avoid the scuffle. I won't get kicked in the face again! Not today.

The space from the opposite end of the mat gives me a temporary advantage but 96 advances and aims his punches towards my head. I dodge his punch by ducking and sending a blow to his stomach. The punch emptied his lungs of air and left him short of breath. I've figured out a weakness and I return with a further four punches to the stomach until he swiftly moves out of my sight to regain his breath.

I relax and breathe deeply. 96 rests for a few seconds as he circles me and before I completely turn, his fist is inches away from my head. I block the hit letting my forearm receive the blow. I feel my forearm scorch with pain but I keep my face strong. Without time to recover 96 sends a flying kick to my waist, I can't dodge it in time. The crowd suck in air as they imagine feeling the pain I feel right now with that blow.

I've got to be brave. I hold my ground.

I swing for his head but my move is quickly blocked. I try another but that is met with a dodge and 96 moves to another corner of the mat. My body starts to heat and my back beads with sweat.

96 flies towards me and before I know it, he sends a punch behind my guarding hands and collides with my head. The knock blurs my vision momentarily as I stumble backwards. 96 sends another punch to my head and it's so hard, it should have knocked me unconscious. A hit similar to that one sent 72 straight to the ground and it was just in his stomach… but not me?

My vision is hazy and my fists are shaking but they are still raised high.

I think I can hear the crowd asking why I am not falling down but I don't know the answer to that question either.

96 seems to vacillate before continuing to fight me, he throws a strong hard blow to my chest but I'm still standing.

I reply weakly with punches and kicks but every hit from 96 seems to make me deteriorate more and more.

I don't remember how the fight ended but I remember just seeing a blurry image of 96 then seeing nothing.

I blink my eyes to clear my vision and 130 looks at me wearing a face of pride which is confusing because I lost the match. I look behind him and the fourth years are standing behind him with smiles on their faces and looks of awe.

'Why are you looking at me like that? I lost, didn't I?' I ask rhetorically.

'You did lose, but you kept going for so long' 72 said honouring me but his words had a hint of jealousy in them.

'Normally, one punch and I've knocked someone out' 96 jokes but his eyes looked pained at the fact, 'but you were a hard bastard to get down' 96 had a huge bruise on the side of his head and on his chest which was bare. If that was what he looked like, I must look like a squashed pulp.

'How did you get that bruise?' I think back to the fight and I don't remember hitting him in the face.

'You did it' 96 rubbed his cheeks, 'after I hit you, out of nowhere one of your punches caught my cheek. Kind of matches yours'

I laugh and so does everyone else; even 130 who didn't seem to want to laugh about that injury before. I stood up and my body aches and I wince at the intensity of the pain but I can just about walk. I walk towards the mirror on the cupboard and look at myself. 130 followed behind me with his hand on my shoulder to support me and I suppose to congratulate me.

I stand in front of the mirror and I can see the place the pain is deriving from. Well, places.

'It may look bad but I don't feel that bad' I lie weakly feeling a new bruise over the previous bruise that Chloe gave me.

'You got off easy' 130 whispered, '96's punches has sent people to the hospital wing for two weeks and here you are walking after taking about 20. I'm proud even if you don't complete the other challenges, you have done so well'

I smile at 130's kind words and examine my wounds which now don't seem like much now. I start with my face and I have a completely red cheek and I can feel a lump on the back of my head my head. I start to take off my t-shirt but it hurts to raise it over my head so 130 helps me. I whisper a thank you and again examine my body again. I have a few patches of reddening on my chest which will turn into a bruise later I suspect. My left shoulder hurts although there isn't any reddening there and the pain in my hands has turned into a dull ache. Lastly I examine my ankles; the right ankle has a patch of redness and swelling which probably caused the limp.

I smile at the bruises which I'm sure must make me seem crazy but although I look pained and bruised I finally feel that adrenaline pumping through my veins.

'On to the next skill test, shall we 96?' I ask with a smile on my face.

'Are you sure?' 89 asks confused at why I would still wish to carry on.

'Positive' I smirk then raise my eyebrow, 'how about you 96?'

'I'm ready' 96 smiles and jumps up, hungry for more competition.

'What type of aim are we testing? Knife throwing? How about archery? Or gun fire?' I ask suggestively wearing a cunning smile.

'How about you decide' 96 smiles standing next to the weapon cupboard; seizing up a knife in his hand.

I don't know where this confidence has come from but I just go with it, 'I quite like archery but gun fire is good as well and there's always knife throwing'

The fourth years 'oooo' at my cocksure attitude and whisper amongst themselves which one they think we should do.

'Just do archery' 130 suggests.

'Alright then' I shrug seeming indifferent but archery is secretly my favourite and my best.

96 stands about 2 metres away from me as we stand a distance from the targets with our bow and quiver at hand. I look towards 96 and the way he holds his bow is quite awkward and I suddenly get the feeling he isn't particularly good at archery.

He lifts up his bow and pulls back the arrow beside it; he hesitates before releasing it but when he does he gets the arrow in the third ring. which isn't bad. He looks towards me indicating that it was my turn; I nod back at him and look towards the target.

There are five rings and the closer they are to the centre the narrower they get. In practice I normally always hit within the two centre rings. I lift up my bow and pull the arrow back, extending the string then take a breath before sending it plummeting into the centre ring. The crowd cheer and 130 has a smile on his face which is a bit haughty.

96's jaw is taught as he hastily retracts the arrow in his bow and releases it in the second ring which teeters near the ring in the centre. 96 smiles as the crowd cheers for his shot and I nod my head as well.

I look at my target and raise the bow to my chest, pull the arrow back, breathe out and release the arrow into the centre ring but it landed fairly close to the second ring. Not my best shot. The crowd cheer and talk amongst themselves; I block them out and look towards 96 indicating his turn.

96 seems calmer now and pulls back his arrow slowly this time, breathes then releases the arrow into the centre ring. He seems to have copied my tactic but it paid off. The crowd cheer but quickly die down as I block them out. Suddenly, I feel as if it just me and the target. My eyes narrow and draw back the last arrow. I take a breath and smile as I release the arrow into the dead centre of the circle. Three shots in the centre ring, yes.

The crowd applaud and cheer for me but… I look towards 96 and he's gripping a knife in his hand sinisterly. I don't know why he did it but he threw the knife towards his target and it hit the dead centre, like mine. His aim was perfect… with a knife.