I pursed my lips.
Breaking a neck took incredible effort and strength. A skill that could only be performed that perfectly if the perpetrator had much practice.
“Listen up you pieces of Soulless shit!” Dig Graves shouted loud enough to recede the tides of the world. “Anyone comes near the Princess, I’m going to become a damn good chiropractor. This girl? She’smine.”
His voice was like a hand between my legs.
“I also have an announcement.” I waved to everyone with a large smile. “I have no affiliation to Dig Graves. I am not his.” I needed his fingers under my skirt. “And I most definitely do not want him.”
“She’s mine!” he shouted.
“I’m not his.”
“She’s mine!”
“I’m not his.”
“She’s mine!”
I turned to Dig Graves, deeply annoyed at the interruption of my conversation, ready to berate him, though he was far too busy, getting beaten by officer batons.
The Execution Battle had not started and so violence was not yet permitted. The officers let him know of his crime through a beating and in turn, Dig Graves let them know what he thought of it by laughing.
I stroked my finger in the air. “Officers, do you not think the greatest punishment of all would benotto let him into the Execution Battle? I think that’s a good idea. Maybe just leave him here and not let him join in on the fun. Hmm?”
They didn’t listen to me and continued thrashing him, each crack of the baton forming a song against his constant laughter.
I hoped they paralysed him.
Beside me, the girl in the Birk boots lay across the floor in her untimely and justifiable death.
My lower lip stuck out as they dragged her body away. I wanted those boots. Oh, wait, should I be sad for her death? I wasn’t sure. I scrunched my face together, seeing if I could conjure sadness. It didn’t work.
Before the Execution Battle, each inmate was allowed to pick one item to take in with them.
It could beanything.
Typically, of course, items that would assist in their survival. Weapons. Most chose blades, short or long. Hunting daggers. Machetes were popular too. Axes a close third. A man chose a chainsaw, which, after brief conversation with a girl next to me we both agreed was ridiculous as he would surely run out of fuel.
Dig Graves stood behind me in the line, whenever I stepped forward, he moved close, acting as my shadow. His scent of leather mingled with my strawberry lotion. I think he stroked my hair. I did not turn around to look.
He sneezed loudly. “There’s gotta be a cat around here.”
In front of me the woman collected her spear. Very medieval. Very nice. She strode out of the prison to join the rest of our group toward our transport.
Now next in line, I held out my hand to the officer. “Sunscreen, please!”
The officer blinked. “What?”
“Sunscreen.”
It took him a moment to register. “You want… sunscreen?”
“Oh yes, very much. 50 SPF, at least, if possible.”
Still transfixed on my words he did not turn around and fetch me what I had asked for. “You need a weapon.”
“Oh, no thank you. I need sunscreen.” I pointed to where a smudged window high up let in filtered light. “It will be sunny today and I know the arena is outside. Sunscreen, please.”
