Taming The Ringmaster

by Erin O'Kane

  He leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead making me close my eyes for a moment. “I will fight hard, anything to get back to you. Trust me, Firecracker, nothing will keep us apart. We have a whole life ahead of us, you’ll see,” he whispers, dropping a kiss on my lips before getting to his feet.

  We get up as well and watch as he grabs some weapons and straps on his armour, all the while ignoring the other two fighters. Is this a punishment? Because of the way Xavier and I finished our fight? It feels like one.

  We are told to line up and we do, my eyes on Jessie the whole time. He blows me a kiss and I’m forced to turn away as we are marched onto the sand. We are led out, no parade today, and just locked into our cages to watch the fight. The stands are already filled with excited fans, the promise of bloodshed hanging in the air, making me nervous. I spot Alcide in the Masters’ box again and narrow my eyes on him, but he won’t meet mine.

  Turning away, I face the pit, waiting for them to announce the fighters. Once they do, I glance back at Alcide to see him frozen. He didn’t know. That settles me a bit. His eyes run over the cages and catch on me, a promise written there before he moves over to the Masters and starts talking.

  I don’t spare him another glance as I hear the cranking of the gate again, emitting the fighters into the pit. I turn and watch, my eyes locked on Jessie as he strides confidently into the middle and bows, playing to the crowd, always a showman.

  The words of the Masters fade away as I focus on the man I love. When the gong sounds, I gasp and press myself to the bars, watching the two fighters surround Jessie who does not look in the least bit bothered. The two men are large, scarred, and wield swords with a precision that shows practice.

  They swing them in arcs as they circle Jessie, who stands with a smile on his face, waiting for them to move. When they charge him, he just isn’t there anymore, moving between them and facing his opponents with a smirk as they spin and glare at him. The crowd hollers, egging them on as they swing and aim for Jessie who avoids each hit, bending and twisting into incredible positions. Jessie doesn’t even bother to try and fight back, just dances and twirls around them like they are on stage and he’s in the spotlight. The crowd eats it up, loving it and screaming his name.

  He taunts the other fighters, moving around them quickly and laughing as they start to get annoyed. Their anger only makes them more lethal, and I want to scream at him to take it seriously, but I don’t want to distract him. Is this what he felt like, waiting for me, watching me?

  He doesn’t manage to move fast enough and one of the swings connects, cutting his arm. I cover my mouth to swallow my scream as blood drops to the sand below. His grin slips for a moment, but he dances away again, ignoring his arm which has to be going numb. The cut is deep, still weeping blood, and the sight of it against his skin has tears filling my eyes.

  Come on, Jessie, keep moving, fight back.

  Like he was waiting for me to think that, he swings his sword and meets their attacks, dancing backwards and forwards in the sand as they strike from both sides. He’s fast, but it’s clear he isn’t as practiced as the other two, and soon three more cuts join the first.

  He rolls between one’s legs and puts some space between them, breathing heavy now, his arm holding the sword dipping slightly. Sweat beads on his forehead and his other arm hangs uselessly at his side.

  My fingers turn white on the bars, and I taste blood in my mouth from biting my own tongue. Fear winds through my heart as they come after him again, one feigns right, but moves left, and goes for Jesse’s neck. In slow motion, I see the sword coming for his neck and all I can do is gape.

  My eyes widen in horror when I see a sword protruding through his chest. His eyes widen in terror and meet mine as I shake my head.

  No, no, this can’t be happening.

  Everything else fades as the sword is pulled from his back and the two fighters step away. I realise someone is screaming—oh wait, that’s me. He looks down at the wound, which is bleeding profusely, before he raises his wide gaze back to me, his mouth opening and closing, regret forming in those eyes usually filled with happiness.

  He falls to his knees and power flows from me, shaking the arena. The crowd screams in fear, but I ignore them. My family is shouting and screaming, fighting to get to him as he falls to his side in the sand, his eyes wide and unseeing as he begins to go pale. The shaking of the ground carries on and guards rush about, but I don’t move my gaze from Jessie’s unmoving form as his blood soaks into the sands.

  A baton smacks my cage and catches me in the temple. “Fuck, you were just supposed to shut her up!” someone yells, as I slump to the bottom of the cage, my fingers reaching through the bars towards Jessie.

  No, he can’t be—

  He can’t leave me…

  He promised. It’s the last thought I have before darkness claims me, swallowing my screams of terror and grief, and welcoming me like an old friend.

  My head pounds, as if matching the thumping of my heart, or the tread of hurried footsteps rushing through darkened passages. My eyes feel heavy and want to close, but I force them open to see where I am. It’s cold down here, like I’m underground, and I want to rub at the goosebumps that cover my arms, but my limbs feel like they are laden with lead. I get the sense I’m moving as stones dig into my skin, a tightness against my ankles that makes me want to kick out.

  Where am I? What’s happened? I think to myself, a pained groan filling the passageway, echoing around me.

  “You shouldn’t have hit her so hard,” a gruff male voice scolds, his disapproval easy to hear in his voice. I don’t think he’s talking to me, which means there is someone else down here with me.

  “She was going fucking crazy!” Indignation follows and the voice brings a memory with it. I know that voice, but I’m struggling to put a name to it. Twisting my head, I try to work out where the voices are coming from, my throbbing head making it more difficult than it should have been.

  “Well, if you’ve fucking broken her, you can take the blame. I’m not fucking getting punished because of your need to hurt the freaks,” the first voice replies, and I get the impression he doesn’t like the other person. Trent, that’s who the second person is, the one that hit me over the head.

  All of a sudden, the events of the last hour smashed into me like a brick wall. The fight. Jessie. The expression on his face as the sword sliced through him. No. This isn’t happening. Twisting, I try to push up into a sitting position, but I’m too weak and my legs won’t move. Forcing my eyes open again, I stare down and see the reason why. Trent and another guard are dragging me down the tunnel towards our cells, each one tightly gripping my ankles. No wonder my back is stinging like it’s been scored with sandpaper, I’m lucky I haven’t hit my head again.

  With a cry, I twist once more, this time so hard I manage to turn myself over, the guards cursing as they lose their hold on my ankles. I try to scrabble upright, but my limbs fail me, the pounding of my head making my vision foggy and the world move under me. Rough hands grab at my shoulders and arms as they haul me up to my feet, the world spinning as I try to steady myself, but I’m being dragged away again.

  No, I need to get to Jessie. I need to see him, my joker who always makes me feel better. Images of his shocked face flash through my mind and I let out a cry of frustration and grief. Pushing my heels into the ground, I try to stop myself, I need to get back to the arena. If he really is dead, I need to see him. Cursing, the guards start pulling me again, my futile attempts at stopping them useless.

  “Stop struggling, bitch,” the first guard demands, his grasp on my shoulders tightening as they drag me into the room, where the door to my cage is open, waiting for me.

  “I need to see him.” My voice comes out as a croak, broken. A small part of me is screaming, telling me to hold my ground, to shout and lash out, anything to try and get to him, but a feeling of hopelessness washes through me.

  We are going to die here
.

  “Shut the fuck up, slave,” Trent sneers, his grip turning painful on my arm as he pulls me closer towards him, and a sick excitement fills his eyes as I flinch at his proximity. Jerking my arm, I try to put some distance between us, but this only seems to please him and he steps in close, a grin filling his face. “Go on, keep struggling, you’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

  The other guard stays silent at my other side, but I can feel him stiffen at Trent’s whispered words. Reaching my cell, I stagger in as a shove between my shoulder blades sends me forward, and I have to put my arms out to stop myself from colliding with the wall at the back. The sound of the metal door slamming shut rings in my ears, and I spin around to see the guards talking to each other in low tones.

  “It’s fine, I’ll wait down here… make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.” Catching the end of Trent’s words, I shudder, realising he’s trying to get me alone, and I have no illusions as to what he’s planning to do with that time.

  Snorting, the other guard frowns at him, crossing his arms, and I get the impression Trent is scared of him. “I’m not fucking stupid, Trent. You know she’s off limits.” His deep voice makes Trent scowl, but he takes a step back as he moves away, shooting me an angry glare, as if this whole thing is my fault.

  “For now.” His voice is quiet, but I hear it loud and clear.

  Stepping toward Trent, the other guard gives his shoulder a small shove towards the passage that leads to the arena. “Will you fucking go? I want to see the end of the fight before we have to move the rest of the slaves back.”

  Backing away, Trent leaves the room, but I don’t miss the expression on his face before he goes.

  Looking around, I see that I’m completely alone. The cells around me are open and empty. Stepping away from the wall, I walk to the front of the cage, gripping on to the rods that trap me. I have not been this alone for a long time, since before the guys found me. Closing my eyes, I press my face against the bars, savouring the cold bite of the metal against my skin. My head still feels like it’s spinning from where I was hit, but now the loneliness and hopelessness starts to seep in. When I have the guys around me, I feel hopeful. As long as we are together, we can get through this, but right now, I find that difficult to believe.

  Images flash through my mind again and I hear someone cry out in pain, the sound echoing around the empty room until I realise it’s me. I can’t do this, not without Jessie. They are going to keep killing us one by one, and I’m not sure I can keep watching it happen.

  No.

  I can’t think like that. Jessie is dead and part of me died with him, but the other guys need me, just as I need them. I can’t give up, I need to be strong for them. I’ve made it through this much, and for them, I can keep going.

  I’m not sure how long I stand there clutching the cell bars, but noise fills the room as the other slaves are marched back into their cells. I stay there like a statue, watching as each of my guys are led back in, seeing the grief and anger in their eyes. All of them are back, except for Jessie, his empty cell mocking me as I was lead past it earlier.

  Nixon is the last to be led in, and bruises mar his body that weren’t there before, his face tight with worry, but once Nixon is locked in the cell next to mine, I let go of the bars and take a step away, retreating to the back of the cell.

  “Rhea.” Nixon’s voice is rough, like he’s been shouting, but that doesn’t sound like something my gentle giant would do. Leaning against the wall behind me, I slide to the ground and stare out the front of the cell, pulling all of my emotions in close, holding them to my chest.

  “Why isn’t she responding?” Xavier appears in my peripheral vision as he grips the bars separating us. His voice sounds concerned, although I don’t know why, he’s been here long enough to know our fate.

  “I don’t know,” Nixon rumbles, as he presses against the bars, his arm reaching out to me. “Rhea? Talk to me, baby.” The pain in his voice breaks through my haze and I shuffle over so I can press myself against his arm.

  I hear the two of them talking quietly as a numbness starts to settle over me, protecting me from the horrors of today.

  I eventually fall into a deep sleep, my dreams full of the sounds of applause and clapping, along with an image that will haunt me forever—me standing in the center of the arena, covered in blood with blades in my hands, and the bodies of the guys littered around me as I am crowned champion.

  I’m waiting at the iron bars when they come for us the next morning. I am drained and cold and oh so numb. Somewhere deep inside, I realise this is wrong, I realise I’m not handling it after my initial breakdown, but this numbness doesn’t hurt as much as my emotions. My broken heart cuts me deeply, the shards travelling through my blood and ripping apart my body from the inside...it feels like my world has been taken away. That I won’t ever feel happy again, my breath won’t catch...no, the numbness is better. It masks the pain, it allows me to function as I lose myself in my mind...in my memories of him.

  Nixon is waiting next to me in his cell, his worried eyes locked on me. He tried to help me all night, but how can he? Jessie is gone…no, I can’t even think his name or I will spiral again. Instead, I focus on the tiny details, the feel of the rough bars under my skin, the flecks of dust floating in the air. The odour of the cells and unwashed bodies. I go through my senses, calming myself once again, only stepping back when Tobias comes to unlock my cell. He winces when he sees me and I step out after him, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. I don’t bother eating or going to the bathroom, I wait near the gate. Time passes oddly, like I am floating outside of my body, and when I blink the rest of the slaves are lined up waiting with me...all eyes on me. I don’t meet them. I don’t want their pity, glee, or anything else.

  We are led into the arena, and before I know it, I’m pulled away from the line. Blinking, I look down at the hand digging into the tanned flesh of my arm. I can see the tight hold, it’s almost cutting through my skin, but I can’t feel it. Glancing up, I meet Trent’s eyes as he drags me over to the racks and starts throwing weapons at me. His voice drifts to me as if from a great distance, the malice evident.

  “...no tandem today, no, not after yesterday. You are going to suffer and once you lose, I get you. They won’t let you die, you are too valuable, but they will make it hurt and so will I. My reward.”

  Good, I should suffer, I should be in pain.

  I couldn’t save him.

  I push that thought away, burying myself deeper in my mind, pulling the protective layers closer around me and muffling the rest of his conversation. This must displease him, because he back hands me, my head snapping to the side. A burst of pain flashes through my face, which is once again smothered by the numbness, and I move my head back to face him, not the least bit affected. He frowns at what he sees there and Tobias steps up next to him, then they start to argue. I can see their mouths moving, but don’t hear a word they are saying.

  Maybe I’m finally broken beyond repair, maybe this will be my life without him—so cold with flashes of pain. It seems oddly fitting. He was my sunshine, my light in the dark, and now he’s gone and I am lost in the shadows once again, with no way out.

  Tobias eventually backs away, throwing me a pitying glance before turning his back on me and marching up into the sand above, leaving me with Trent. I wait, unmoving, as he steps towards me, his rancid breath wafting over my face and still I don’t move.

  “I’m going to fuck every one of your holes tonight, see what that pretty boy was willing to die for,” he snarls, and somewhere deep, deep in the dark, a spark ignites from his words. “I’ll make you scream his name as I take you again and again, ripping you apart...but he won’t ever come. I watched his dead body be tossed to the crows, left to rot and be eaten like the parasite he is.” The spark grows stronger, not burning away the dark, but using it like fuel, the fire spreading through my veins as he laughs and grabs me again, dragging me
on numb feet to the open gate for the fighting pit.

  Sometimes in the dark, we find ourselves. Lost in the shadows, we find a strength we never knew we had...it wraps around me now, echoing with my distant screams, his smile and flashes of my life, calling to me. Pulling me back from the edge, the warmth pushing me to go on. Yes, the darkness can be scary, but it can also be reassuring, where our nightmares and worries become real, or where we pull ourselves out of and build ourselves back up...but we never thank the dark for its tight grip, for being the thing that keeps us going. Instead, we worship the light, we huddle in it...I will embrace the dark instead. I will offer myself to it freely. Let the cocoon carry me away, morph me into something new...something stronger and much less breakable, because the dark will always blot out the light...the dark is eventual. The end and our beginning, and now my future.

  I fan the flames of that dark spark, calling to it, asking it to burn my pain away. It responds to my voice, to Trent’s horrid words that he spews as we wait, from his grip on my arm, and his wandering hand exploring my ass. I feed it Jessie’s dying screams, his pain and his dimming eyes. I offer it all as I am forced into the middle of the sand.

  “...Immortal!” I hear the announcement, but I tune it out, the crowd’s thunderous roar turning to a muted buzzing as I huddle around that dark flame inside.

  Vibrations run up my spread legs, and it’s only then that I lift my head and look around, seeing the men surrounding me...fighters, all grim-faced, with excitement running through their eyes. This is my punishment, a fight I have no chance of winning, they want me to suffer, but I won’t die...no, like Trent said, they won’t allow that, but they forget. They forget I have suffered. I have suffered since the day I was born for simply being a woman.

  I have been beaten.