Unbroken

Forty-Nine

Skye

Present

So, the “victor” gets to choose a “trophy.” A trophy is one of us. A “whore.”

“I’m feeling really upset about this new development,” I whisper now, nerves shooting through me. “I feel like it’s a dick move for them to do this to us, right?”

The pretty girl that’s been speaking to me just gives me a fleeting look. I swear if that look was a word, it’d be really fucking dry.

What the cloaked dickwads said to me starts to make sense. Now the blood on my legs and the bruises along my body start to concern me. No way would a “victor” decide to choose me as their “trophy” or whatever the fuck, but if I don’t get picked, what the hell happens to me?

“Where do we go if we’re not picked?” I whisper. “Back to those cages?”

“You get placed into one of the harems,” the girl responds. “If you’re lucky, it won’t be in Cassius’s harem.”

“What happens in Cassius’s harem?”

“That’s the thing: none of us cattle know because no girl has come out of there to tell us.”

So Cassius’ Harem is a no go. I’m getting it.

“He’s been requesting more flesh as of late,” she adds.

Pretty much then if I don’t get chosen by the victor, I’ll be sent to Cassius’ harem where I will probably disappear forever.

“Great,” I whisper to myself. We’re learning as we go, Skye.

We don’t stand there for much longer. The screams from the fighting pit grow more desperate. The strange maniacal howls are louder, though, and I realize as I hear the gurgle and the cries that someone is being killed.

“This is so fucked up,” I breathe out.

He told me this place was a hell I wouldn’t be able to comprehend. He was right. We’re in a world that feels nothing like the world I’ve come from.

I’m weak again.

I want to go home…

But where is home anymore?

Everything I have ever loved has been taken from me.

And I’m standing here, with the faintest hope that maybe…maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

“You were wrong,” I tell myself quietly.

The cries go quiet.

A loud bell rings.

“We have a victor!” screams a male voice. “The battle has been won!”

The girls straighten in front of me, but I’m still slumped because I look like trash, and there’s no way to razzle-dazzle this shitshow if I tried.

And do I want to try?

I pat where my pocket should be. “Good luck, Skye,” I whisper.

The cloaked cunt comes to our side, and he shoves me forward. “Move, whore, and meet the victor.”