Chapter 17
HEATH
Five years ago
“You. In the cage, now.”
I pick myself up from the lower bunk bed. My wounds from the last fight still haven’t healed completely and I’m still sore as fuck. But I know better than to argue with the guards by now.
“And you, too.”
I see the guard pointing at one of my friends, Manuel. He’s only nineteen. His body is already covered in scars from what these men have done to him.
“I’m not fighting him,” I snarl. “Give me another opponent.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
The guard threatens me with his taser before opening the prison cell. Manuel and I walk out filled with trepidation. We stare at one another. Until a minute ago, we were friends, friends who looked out for each other. Now, our worst nightmares are about to come true.
I test the strength of the cuffs that bind my wrists and my ankles. It’s no use. I won’t be able to get away, not now or ever.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Manuel says in his softly accented voice. “You’re my friend, Heath.”
I don’t reply. I’m already going somewhere else in my thoughts. Manuel hasn’t been here long, and he doesn’t know what it’s like if you want to survive.
We have to kill to live.
Whether that means gauging out the eyes of a stranger with our bare hands... or killing our friends so we can save our own life.
Syringes are plunged into our necks. I don’t even fight it this time, knowing I’ll need the superhuman strength the drugs pump me full of.
But Manuel isn’t as lucky.
He dodges the second needle, relieved when it doesn’t sink into his skin. I know he just signed his death sentence, though.
Because the moment these drugs kick in, I won’t be Manuel’s friend Heath anymore. I’ll be a vicious, cruel killing machine.
We’re forced into another room where there’s a large fighting cage. They shove a dull knife into my hand and a gun with a single bullet into Manuel’s. I don’t think he’s ever even held a weapon.
We’re pushed into the cage just as the effects of the drugs kick in. I’m used to it by now - the blinding pain that sends me crawling across the floor of the cage is nothing new. I know it’ll soon be replaced by the rush of adrenaline that will keep me going. That will make me the winner of this death match. Meanwhile, Manuel is stuck with just one shot of their drugs - certainly not enough to take me down.
The rows of benches outside fill with rowdy patrons and they laugh and cheer us on as we recover from whatever poison they injected us with tonight.
I feel the effects of the drug kicking in soon enough, and the agony of pain soon turns into raw power. I pick myself up, no longer the man I was when I first walked into this cage. Now, I’m nothing but a monster.
I watch Manuel before me with a newfound rage. That’s what the drugs to me. They turn me into a merciless killing machine. The boy before me is no longer my friend. He’s my victim.
I launch myself at him with the knife while he scrambles to control the gun in his hands. He screams as I slam the dull knife into his stomach. It barely grazes him, but I’m like a man possessed, slamming into him again and again until blood spurts from his body.
“Don’t!”
He screams for mercy, cries of pain interrupted by whispered mentions of my name that mean nothing to me. I’m not Heath right now. I’m a monster. It’s the only way I get out of this alive. I have to keep fighting.
For me.
For my parents.
For Rain.
The fight goes on and on to the sound of cheers from the patrons watching us, probably placing bets on me. I toy with Manuel like a cat does with a mouse. The drugs pump through my system, eradicating any thoughts I had of our friendship. There’s no salvation in sight. There’s just the bloodthirsty need to kill the man before me.
He finally gets the gun to work and aims it at me with shaking hands.
“You only got one bullet,” I hiss at him. “Didn’t you hear the guards?”
“I’ll kill you,” my former friend snarls.
“No, you won’t.”
I smirk and my heart hammers as I realize there’s still some humanity left in me. I recognize the man before me, my friend, merely a boy. I could save him.
“I’ll kill you,” I tell him. “I’ll turn you into minced meat.”
His hands shake as he holds the gun. With a trembling hand, he turns the gun around, pushing it into his mouth.
His scared, wide brown eyes will follow me the rest of my life, as well as the moment they go lifeless as he fires the gun into his own mouth.