12.
It was a quick and Swift, rest of the evening. Paige and I stalled our horses and quietly walked up to the house and into the kitchen. It was just Paige, Clive, Barrett and I eating Thanksgiving dinner.
The turkey was flavorful and moist. It had a rich smoky flavor and it melted in my mouth. The green bean casserole was more than savory, and the garlic mashed potatoes were to die for.
Clive was guzzling down a beer. But Barrett, Barrett was dry. He had a big tall glass of milk in front of his plate and for that I was thankful. Thanksgiving dinner was quiet and filled with no conversation. I had no debate against that. I cleared my plate and waited patiently for my escort back into my dungeon. Paige was not even interested in me helping her with the dishes that night and for that I was disappointed.
Paige waved me off, and it was Clive who finally escorted me back. We left the bright warm confines of the kitchen and entered the dark cool brisk outside. Walking slowly, the lights from the house slowly faded away. I pulled my jacket close to my neck. I could feel the hairs on my back sticking up in full salute.
"I figured out what song I want you to play for me, Clive." I said.
His excitement made him giddy. Clive bumped into me and I staggered a bit to my left. "Oh yeah, so what's it gon to be Lill?"
I could not help but smile. To me, Clive was dumber than a bag of sand. He was the big brute that punched me and pulled me through my trucks window on the first fateful night that brought me here. I was beaten by him. But I guess I could not hate, because he was only acting on orders. It was all their spiel to make me into the ultimate monster. We came to the barn doors and stopped.
"So you do know that Paige gave me an MP3 player loaded with music, right?"
"Yeah." He said.
"Any who." I said. "There is a song that caught my ear that explains my current dilemma. It's called Psychosexy by Sinisstar."
"Ahhhhh." He said as he raised his head and looked upon the stars. Smiling he looked back down on me. "I know that song well Lill, it's a good one."
"Okay!" I shot back. I gave him a good point with my right index finger. "So then you know how I want you to cut it, right?"
"I do."
"You are not shitting me right?" I asked.
"No, no way. It's a song, that song will set da mood. Everyone there will know you're there for business." He said. It was dark and I could barely see it, but Clive was smiling with a gleam.
It was a change of conversation, but he got the point in and I was done with the subject. "So what time am I to get up in the morning?"
"Ahhh, maybe an hour or two before the rooster's crow." He replied.
"At which time, we?"
He knew the answer to the sentence and cut me off before I could finish. "We will Lill, go into the interrogation room and teach you the rules of the floor."
"Is there a lot to learn?" I asked.
"There is?" He said hesitantly. "Barrett figures you is a smart person." It was a short but awkward silence and then finally once again Clive spoke. "Afterwards though, you do get to pick out you outfit." It was another short brief silence, but Clive once again excitedly spoke. "Oh, don't forget to think about yo name, yo battle persona name that is."
Clive slid open the barn doors, and I knew it was a hint that our conversation had come to an end. Of course, I knew that Clive had been drinking and was without beer for some time. His taste buds were probably calling him and he needed another drink.
As I entered the barn, and walked up to Nellie's stall. She was in the corner, but she quickly walked up to me. I gave her a quick nuzzle then joined Clive at the mouth my dungeon.
In the light, I could see his dark eyes, but yet they were bright. He seemed to find excitement out of all it. As he tossed open my flap, he could not help but smile. "We got good hopes for you, Lill. Good hopes indeed. I'll be dare wit you Lill, and don't worry, I'll make you song up tonight. Everyone is going to fear da day they met you."
I really did hate the sound of that. I never wanted anybody to fear the day that they ever met me. But in my current position, I had no bloody choice. The wooden steps creaked as I slowly descended them. The cold night's air was piercing my skin with a thousand needles in every direction. My biggest hate was changing clothes in cold air. I turned on my lamp and sat upon my bed. I put my face into my hands and rubbed them up and down my head over my face trying to comfort myself. My breath was protruding from every exhale. I kept debating to myself whether I wanted wear pajamas, be comfortable, or sleep in my dirty clothes. I guessed it was no different, for my clothes were only washed once a week, and it was almost a week upon my pajamas.
With my clothes still on, I grabbed the MP3 player from the top of my drawer and whisked myself into my bed. I pulled the comforter over me, and the extra blankets that Paige had provided for me weeks before. I shook uncontrollably until warmth was established.
There was not one wink of sleep that I gained that night. I remembered so many times before, when I was younger, my family would go on camping trips. I was always so excited I could never meet sleep. There was a strange uncomfortableness that dwelled within in my bowels. My eyes remained wide open. And if I ever achieved sleep it was in very short increments.
I remembered those moments well. Short nights when I was sent to sleep, but the journey's beginnings always led to an early uprising. Everything was packed, and my mom was always in there in the early morning, dressing my sister and me, getting us ready for the adventures ahead. It was a sweet excitement back then, but now, now it was just a straight fear. I was alone; I had no mother to guide me. I lay there, listening to my music, trying to grasp upon something. There was nothing. I had to muster all my strength. I had to go through it alone. I pulled the covers close to my chin and clinched them there.
I tossed and turned all night. I did not think I got one wink of sleep, but I had to try. The end result was pulling myself out of bed getting my clothes on and sitting on the bed waiting. I was waiting for that flap to open and for me to be summoned to my impending doom. Upon sitting, at no point in time did my legs ever stop shaking. My eyes became red, heavy and fiery. My mind was a clutter of thoughts. I tried so very hard to expel the bad, but they did nothing but dwell on my mind. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The butterflies were on a rampage in my stomach. It was possible sleep came to me a few times in my zombie state. It was possible for me to achieve sleep in the sitting state. I had done it before. But this, this was terrifying. The jumbled mess alone in my stomach would not quit. Finally, while I was in a trance that was flooded by terrifying thoughts and dreams, I heard the barn doors above me slide open.
I stood with my hands by my sides. Like a soldier at attention, I waited for instruction.
It was still dark outside and the barn lights were suddenly switched on. The brightness from the barn lights were seeping their way through the planks of my dungeon top. The flap was unlocked and before anyone emerged I heard a deep rusty voice.
"Are you decent kid?"
It was Barrett's voice. My face cringed at the sound of it. I was hoping it was Paige coming down to get me. I so desperately wanted to talk to her about our brief moment. "Yes." I plainly said.
"Good." He said. He continued to descend into the depths of the dungeon. As he laid eyes upon me, his facial expression told me he was somewhat pleased to see that I was already ready to go.
"Is there anything I need to bring?" I asked.
Barrett shook his head. His face was almost clear, arm still in a sling. "Naw, just bring your body kid. We are gonna go and discuss the rules of the fight right now. We have a long ride ahead of us, so if you're hungry, we will pick up something on the way."
I nodded. Without being chained, without my head being bagged, I smiled and followed Barrett out of my dungeon. It was a crisp, brisk morning. The sun still had not peaked over the horizon. It was still completely black out. I could only assume that the time could've been either three or four in the morning. Trust at some
point must have been established because I walking behind Barrett instead of him behind me with a gun pointed at my back.
We entered the kitchen and it smelled of coffee. My mouth watered for a hot steamy cup. The TV was running and early morning news was on. The house seemed quiet and empty. I wondered where Paige was at. Hopefully, she would be in the interrogation room. Hopefully.
To my dismay, she was not there. As Barrett opened the steel door to the room, Clive was the only one that resided in a chair. I, knowing my place, sat down in the chair that I had sat in many months before. It was much more relaxed than I had been. I was not chained, nor did I enter the room with a bag covering my head. Clive looking giddy as a schoolboy, Barrett sat down in a calm manner.
More relaxed on my part this time, I sat back in my chair. The room was still cold and I could feel the hairs upon my arms prick up. Silence was a menacing fellow and I could hear the deep breaths that everyone was taking.
Barrett leaned forward in his chair and placed his one good elbow upon the steel table. "So let's begin with the rules kid." It looked like he had not shaved in days. It looked like he had not slept either. His eyes were bloodshot and they looked like bloody Mary drinks. "There will be six men with assault rifles on the floor. All of them are prepared to kill you if they need to."
I swallowed hard. My heart began to pound, but I told myself there was no reason to panic, or was there?
Barrett's facial expression never changing, he continued on. "These fights are placed in buildings. Buildings that look old, decrepit and abandoned, but are not. They are owned. They have been specifically remodeled for this and this alone."
I could only imagine in my head what he was saying. I could imagine an old warehouse that was rusted out and gutted. I could imagine in my head, the rich people standing in the makeshift bleachers raising their drinks and shouting for their betted women to win. It made my stomach turn, it really did. In the back of my mind was the six men holding assault rifles. My life, at this point, depended on the very words that emerged from Barrett's mouth. I decided to put my smartass remarks aside and listen.
"Your main goal is to maim, not kill, do you understand?" Barrett's face was Stern.
Without glancing at Clive, I saw him in my peripheral view. His face was solid as rock to. He was always the goofy, dumber than a bag of sand guy, but in this moment he was serious. I just nodded.
"You will be provided with weaponry." Barrett reached into his pocket of his overalls and pulled out two knives, placing them upon the table.
They both lay there and I immediately recognized them. One was the vintage switchblade that my father had given to me before he died, and the other was a Spyderco knife called the Merlin my friends had bought me for my birthday. My two cherished knives. The two knives that I always carried with me.
I was always asked by people why I carried two knives. My answer was simple. One to open boxes and the other to stab people with. It was my father's switchblade, of course that I would use to stab people with. The Merlin however, its arched serrated blade made it very easy to cut open boxes. I used the two knives as a deterrent. I never thought that I would actually have to use them. I out reached my hand and tried to retrieve them, but Barrett quickly pulled them back and pocketed them.
Barrett continued on. "The killing floor, as they call it, is about half the size of a basketball court. Your theme music will play of course, and you'll walk onto the floor. We will be on the sidelines, rooting you on. But, there will be no breaks, or timeouts. It will be all you." Barrett leaned back in his chair. It seemed that his good arm was getting tired doing all of the work. "At which point, the announcer will yell, "fight on!" You will then proceed to your opponent." Barret took a moment before finishing. "Prior to entering the floor, you will have been armed with your two knives. The other women you fight, will be armed as well. I cannot tell you what they will have, but you must be observant and be prepared."
I was silent. I kept my mouth shut. I took my gaze from Barrett and glanced at Clive. The blur from the yellowed fluorescent lights made him look as if he was wrapped in plastic. He was motionless and silent as well.
"Like I said, there will be six gunmen. Three of which, will be placed on the floor. The other three, will be placed higher up so they can get a better view.? A shot that is. This comes into serious play when you think you need to pull those knives." Barrett still leaned back in his chair arm across his lap. "Put on a good show kid. Give all those rich bastards the time of their lives. Give all those rich bastards their fucking money's worth."
He stood up from his chair abruptly. He leaned in close. He set his dark brown eyes ablaze onto my subtle green ones. I did not like him, but I knew every word that he spoke were the only words that would keep me alive. I would let nothing that he said escape my mind. I didn't want to die, nor did I want my mother to die either.
It was a cool drift that lay its dirty hands upon my back. I felt the cold shivers of death rattle my soul. I sat up quickly and tried to shake off the fear. My hands clasped together and there was no way to keep the clamminess at bay.
"There is no set time limit on the fight." Barrett said.
"When do I use the knives?" I asked.
"Use your better judgment." He said. "At that point. If you should ever get to it. If you ever feel that life is depleting from you, pull your knives out and use them. You have two, so whichever one fits your situation best, use it." Barrett took a deep breath and exhaled. "This isn't a game kid. Lives are at stake here. Pull your weapon out to early, and you are liable to get shot."
I had come so far at this point. I had overcome experimental procedures, I had overcome running and training. I had overcome brutality and great depression. Even through all the madness, I still could not comprehend the insanity that was to come. I could only envision myself on the killing floor, with another woman, trying to keep myself alive and maybe extinguishing another life. My heart was filled with disgust. My whole life had led up to this. This was just sadness.
"I guess, you could follow two simple rules. Stay alive as long as possible and only kill if you have to." Barrett said. "There will be two judges watching you. And if at any point they find you are not worthy, or find that you are killing without reason, you will be shot to death. Do you understand?"
I had no words. I just nodded. The rules were simple. Get in a fight, make it a good fight, at any point you feel your life is in jeopardy, whip out your specialized weapon. Mame the person that is trying to kill you. If maiming doesn't work and you feel as if you're dying, then killing the other person will be necessary. I just nodded.
Barrett just smiled back and said. "Good. Now, let's load up and get the fuck out of here!"
Clive and Barrett were out in an instant. We all left the florescent luminance glow of the steel table room. Barrett left first, then I, then Clive in tow. We walked upstairs and exited through the kitchen. Around the house I followed them to a small moving truck that was sitting out in front of the house. Paige was nowhere in sight. My heart sank low.
Barrett walked to the front of the truck and got in on the driver side. Clive opened the backdoor to the moving truck. He motioned for me to get in.
I looked at him, eyebrows cocked. "Seriously?" I asked.
Waving his arm for me to get in, he said. "Seriously. We gonna make stops, but we can't let you out. You gotta chair and there's a shitter in their for ya. Remember Lill." He said. "You don't exist. Just chill out, we'll get there soon as possible."
I let a few chuckles. The moving truck was small, but big inside. As I climbed up into the back of the truck, I walked up to the chair. It was bolted to the floor. Right next to the chair, was what I assumed to be the toilet? It was also bolted. I lifted up the flap and noticed there was a small cut hole the size of a grapefruit leading out through the floor of the truck. I shook my head and started to laugh. Clive was having a laugh with me as well. Smiling I looked at him. "This is pretty fucking hilarious."
Still laughing, Clive added, "yeah so, if you could please just do your business while the truck is on the move."
"Oh, it's like that?"
Nodding he said, "yeah, it's like that Lill."
I turned from the right side of the truck and looked to the left. There was a lone trunk sitting on the left side. I lifted my left arm and pointed at the trunk with my thumb. "What the hell's in there?"
Clive immediately got excited. It seemed as if he was hesitating at the door, only to wait for me to ask the question. "That, that there be your plethora o' outfits. Take a look through it. There be a lot of stuff in there. Pick out an outfit for you fight."
I scratched my head and I smiled. "Thanks Clive."
"It's gonna be a while before we get to where we gotta go. You got some stuff underneath your chair to keep you occupied." As Clive slowly started closing the door to the small moving truck, he added, "oh, and Lill, don't forget to think of a name."
The door was closed blocking out the last of the days growing light. I didn't know if I'd ever see the light of day again, or if I'd ever see another day.
The ride was a bumpy one. I sat in the chair for the most part of the trip. To my pleasant surprise, there was my MP3 player which was lying underneath my chair. Thankfully, there was also a gallon of water that resided underneath it as well. I sat in the chair, finding it to be extremely uncomfortable. Throughout the majority of the trip, negotiating the intense bumpiness, anticipating the quick stops and trying so very hard not to lose the breakfast that I did not eat, I passed the time by staring into nothingness and listening to music. All the while I kept glancing to my right over my shoulder at my so-called toilet. I had been holding myself for a while. I wouldn't reduce myself to peeing through a hole in a truck.
The pain finally became unbearable. My bladder was incredibly full. With the truck in motion, I undid my belt to my pants, slowly rose from my chair and carefully negotiated myself over to the makeshift toilet. I opened the lid and stared through the grapefruit sized hole. I watched as the semi-snow-covered road rushed by like a raging asphalt River. With the truck still in motion, I pulled down my pants and sat on the potty.
It was an intense relief and if it were not for the terrible loud noise the truck was making, you could almost hear a bomb releasing from my butt. I let out a great gasp of relief and satisfaction. After all was shit and done, I was satisfied. I looked around for toilet paper. Looking to the left and then looking to the right, I saw none insight. Out of everything I'd been through, it was the stupidest thing to panic about, but yes, I was panicking about no ass paper. I would not leave the seat. When the truck stopped, those doors would open and I would still be sitting on the potty. I reached my arms back behind the toilet and with great relief my left hand caught the feel of a roll.
Wiping myself thoroughly, I dropped the used paper waste through the small grapefruit hole. I did feel terrible about littering, but what other choice did I have. I suppose I could have left the paper waste in the truck, but I felt that smelling my shit the rest of the way would not improve my mood.
Keeping the chill away, I pulled up my pants quickly. We must've been on the road for hours, but the climate never changed. The back of the truck was not climate controlled. There was no heat. I stood up and tried to gain my balance. I got back to my chair before there was a stop or turn.
I decided I was done with music. I sat in my chair with my elbows upon my knees. I sat there with my face rested upon the palms of my hands. Periodically I would raise my head and look at the trunk. I figured at this point it was time to find my outfit, so curiosity killed the cat. I lifted myself out of my chair and maneuvered my way to the trunk. I pulled open the top to see what the contents inside withheld.
There was leather pants, white and black tank tops. There was a black leather cowboy hat. There was a leather biker's jacket. There was stretch pants and workout tops. Nothing that fitted my taste at all. I continued to dig, until I found in the corner something familiar. They were blue jean pants, a regular charcoal colored T-shirt with an outline of the Firebird. I pulled out the T-shirt and looked at it smiling. It was the shirt that I wore the night that I was kidnapped. The blue jeans were mine as well. I peeled off my navy blue collared shirt and replaced it with my Firebird shirt. I tossed off my new balance shoes and took off my black workout sweats that Paige had bought me. I replace them with my blue jeans. I always bought in the men's section, because they fitted me. They fitted me well. Wearing my Firebird shirt and my blue jeans, I continued to search through the trunk. In the other corner I found a pair of boots. I pulled them out. They were my boots. My high top steel toed Doc Martens. I was so happy to have them, I put them on as well. I continued to search. I came across a black hoodie jacket with a fleece lining. I examined it. It was not my hoodie jacket that I was kidnapped with, but it would do. I was almost complete, but I needed something else. An accessory of sorts.
Near the bottom of the trunk, I found a 7 inch, three buckled leather cuff, black. Without hesitation I put it on. It looked good and I wanted another. I crossed my fingers that there was another and I dove back into the trunk trying to find its other half. Success! My hand grasped another cuff. I pulled it out and buckled it upon my right arm. I took my hoodie from the ground and put it on. I zipped it up and pulled the hood over my head. With excitement and even with the truck still moving, I tried to pull off some moves and see how well and movable my outfit would be. Everything was movable and breathable. With great satisfaction, I sat back down my chair and waited for our destination to come. Why was I so excited about dressing to become a killer? I pulled off my jacket and tried to use it as a pillow.
I found sleep at some point, but once again it was not easy. I had not been fed breakfast and my stomach was grumbling. I drank much water trying to compensate for the emptiness, but once again it would not suffice. The sounds of the truck lay within my dreams. The symbol of the Firebird was floating throughout them. The Screaming Chicken, as they use to call it. I would find the black leather cuffs that embraced my arms, turn into black wings of the Angel of death and carry me away into certain blackness. I was almost sure it was hell. I was almost certain of all that thou shall not's. Thou shalt not kill was what I was going to commit. My fingers had turned to knives. All 10 of them. The struggling life that was entwined within in my arms was abruptly stabbed in the throat by my finger knives. It was a waterfall of blood that came gushing out. Sleep no more; I pulled out of my dream with staggering breaths and painful doubts in the back of my mind.
With no eating and no sleep, the truck finally came to a complete stop and shut off. I sat in my chair ruggedly beaten by the bumps of the road. With the lack of food, I had no energy. My body was limp and my head lay back against the top of the chair. I could hear voices. I heard the voices of Barrett and Clive as they exited the truck. I made no attempt to move from my chair. I was hungry, weak and tired. I only embraced the silence of the truck. There were no more vibrations and there was no more noise. With my right leg firmly planted upon the ground and my left leg residing upon it. My right arm was hanging off the side of the chairs armrest and my left arm lying upon it. With no vibration I tried to close my eyes.
There was no time to sleep, for the backdoor of the truck opened. I turned my head to see glaring light. Clive was there. I did not move. Clive had a bag in his hand, a paper bag. With the bag in hand, he hoisted himself up into the back of the truck. I still did not move. He walked up to me and threw the bag into my lap.
"Eat dis Lill."
I pulled myself from the hunger trance and opened the bag. It was a whopper from Burger King and a side of fries. I ripped the burger from its wrapping and inhaled it instantly. After the burger was gone, I removed the fries from their sorry lives. After all the food disappeared, I pulled out my gallon of water and began to chug. Clive the whole time didn't move, he just watched me.
With what little light there was, Clive looked at me up and down. He saw that I ha
d changed my clothes. He saw my boots, my pants, my black leather cuffs, and the Firebird that embraced my shirt. He nodded and smiled. "I see you got your outfit Lill. Now I look forward to seeing you whoopin some ass." He outstretched both his arms and pointed them toward the open truck door. "Let's go Lill. We got little time to prepare for dis. Let's go."
I sat up from my seat. I was woozy and wobbly from the ride. I rose slowly only to find the cold wind rushing in and nipping at my skin. I picked up my black hoodie jacket and I wrapped myself in it and zipped it up quickly. Clive had already jumped out of the back of the truck and I followed slowly. Standing at the edge of the truck I stared at the bottom. It looked to be only a 4 foot drop, but I didn't feel like jumping. I sat on my butt and slowly slithered out like a slug.
It was dark and cold and the cold wind violated me in so many ways. It was nothing but pure black outside. The grass was crunching beneath my boots, caused by a light dusting of snow that had rested a few nights before. I put my hands inside my jacket pockets for some little relief. Barrett was nowhere in sight. The truck was parked by a dwelling which only could be explained as a barn. A brightly red painted barn. There were no windows and there were no doors that I could see.
Clive opened two wooden doors that were planted at the base of the barn. He motioned for me to go in. I walked slowly up to the doors edge and saw that there was a staircase leading downwards. Great, I thought to myself. Another staircase leading downward. I slowly wobbled down.
The walls were wood and painted red like the barn. The ground as well as the stairs, were made of cement. As we reached the bottom, I could see a range of corridors. It seemed as if I was in an underground maze. I knew Clive had been here before and I waited for his direction.
The underground corridors seemed vast. I followed Clive left, then right, and then left again, until we reached a steel door. Like a gentleman he opened it for me and I entered.
I couldn't tell how big the room was. The floors were cement, except for the corner which housed the shower and it was tiled. My body watered at the sight of the shower. It had been over a year since I took an actual shower. I remembered the exact last time I took a shower. I could vaguely remember how the tiny droplets felt as they were smoothing over my skin. I remembered how a hot shower felt after a long days yard work. I was overcome by a sensation to peel off my clothes and run over to the shower and sit in it for hours. The sensation however faded away. I had to concentrate toward the tasks at hand.
The sides of the room, were lined with bleachers. Leaning up against the walls, there was a portion of the room which had three long-standing lockers. In one corner there was a punching bag, with free weights. I slowly walked into the middle and looked at Clive. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up straight. The food that I had just consumed quickly was unnerving my stomach. I was nauseous and felt at any time I would lose it. I looked around the room for the toilet, but there was none. I figured if I was going to vomit, I would have to vomit in the shower. At least I could run it and wash down the chunks.
Clive stood there and watched me as I panicked for a bit. He stood there with his full beard, his dark blue beanie warming is head, and his dumbfounded look startled by my panicked behavior. "I gotta go find Barrett."
I continued to twirl. I continued to lose my mind. I continued to walk about the stone cold bleak area. As time was running out and the time was nearing, my mind was mush. Every breath I took was a breath closer to insanity. The words that Clive spoke were just a whispering echo that invaded time and space. The world was spinning and I had a grasp upon nothing. Breathing became heavy, I became desperate. I released myself. I looked to the ceiling and let out an overwhelming scream.
He was quick about it. Clive came out of nowhere, wrapped his arm around me and placed his hand over my mouth. "Shhhhhhh....... take it easy Lill, take it easy. This is stressful, I know. You cannot lose it now." Clive removed his hand from my mouth and slowly backed away. "I got to go find Barrett. We go to get you set up. We'll be back in a while. In the meantime Lill, you gotta get warmed up. Get mad, get angry, but don't be scared. You don't win dis fight, you gonna get yourself killed."
No words emerged from my mouth. I stood there motionless, scared. Like a stealth jet, Clive left the room. I was alone. I had the only warning warm-up, don't be scared. How could I not be scared? Impeding death was upon me.
I raised my fists. I protected my face. In a fighting maneuvering stance, I pranced over to the punching bag and began to punch. I let my anger pour out through my fists. I let my hate for everything explode in every hit I landed. My mind was blackened, my soul was empty. I threw punch after punch and regretted nothing. After my fists were bloodied and raw, I began to run about the room. I ran around, stopped did push-ups, did sit-ups. With both legs, I kicked myself back up into the vertical position and continued to run. I did this until the door opened once again and Barrett and Clive emerged from the door.
Both Clive and Barrett sat upon the benches provided by the room. I stopped, walked and stood in front of them. Arms clasped behind my back. Every word that they would speak would be vital to my survival. I shut my mouth and kept my ears open.
It was Barrett that first broke words. "Eight girls. Eight girls are in this bracket. You have a total of two fights before you get to the main fight." He shook his head and laid it low. "Apparently the stakes are higher this kid. Eight women. In this faction, on this side of planet Earth, you must overcome these obstacles. Do you understand?"
I said nothing, I just nodded.
"Good." He said. "I know we went over the rules with you a little bit, but I must go more in depth. As you know, you will be provided with weapons. At no time in any point of this fight, will you just bust them out and use them. Do you understand?"
I nodded once again.
"This is a finicky game. There are millionaires, and billionaires that occupy those bleachers. Their betting stakes are high. You have to put on a good show. You have to show them that they put in their money's worth." Barrett raised his good hand and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Bottom line kid, the judge's control the floor. The six gunmen are watching the floor. If you strike too quickly, if you try to kill too quickly, they will put you down. You will get a warning shot that will be put in your direction. After that, they go for blood. Do you understand?"
"Yes." I said.
"This isn't a game. We play for blood and we play for money. If you lose, either way with your life or without, you will have enemies. If you win, you will still have enemies." Barrett said it was such concern. It was the most concern that he had showed for me since we first met. I should've been flattered, but I still hated his guts. "Bottom line kid, you need to watch your back. Not one person here is an angel. They all take pleasure in seeing people hurt. Life is buyable. Life means nothing to them. All they care about is the dollar signs in their bank account. Do you understand?"
I couldn't think of anything to say. But then quickly, something came to mind. "Do you care about life Barrett?"
It seemed as if I had caught him off guard. He glanced at me quickly, took a deep breath and then placed his eyes upon the ground. "My faith has been questioned many times throughout this process. I have loved and I have lost. But yes, believe it or not kid, I still do value life. If it were not for my past delinquent actions, I would not be here today. I would not have met you, I would not have to deal with that big ass mouth of yours." Releasing the rest of his breath, I saw a smile emerge from his face.
The thought was on my mind ever since I had left the barn. I continued to wonder of the whereabouts of Paige. It was on the tip of my tongue, I wanted so very badly to ask Barrett where she was. I didn't think I could go any further without her support. It was she who was my rock through this whole thing. It was her who kept me going. I felt as if Barrett was aware of my so-called ever-growing crush on Paige. I decided not to ask him. I did not want to put him over the edge. I felt I could not manage an ass beating b
efore my ass beating and impeding death.
My back was to the door, but I heard it open. With hopeful thoughts that it was Paige, I was so dreadfully let down at the sight of younger man poking his head through the crack of the door. "10 minutes you guys." Was all he said. The door quietly closed. I was left in the room with Clive and Barrett and my nerves, falling to pieces.
Barrett looked at Clive and then he looked at me. "Well I suppose we should go. Did you get warmed up kid?"
I nodded. I was left with nothing. No smartass remarks could prepare me for what I was about to do. Clive told me not to be scared. I was scared. The tips of my fingers began to tingle. The nausea from the greasy hamburger began to rise in my bowels. I didn't think it was a very good time to ask if I could go to the bathroom. I was hit by a sudden flash of anxiety. I rushed over to the floors of the shower. I fell to my knees and relieved myself of all my anguish and fear.
The shower floor was now covered with regurgitated Burger King. I slowly rose. Clive and Barrett's eyes both lay upon me. Clive was nice enough to bring the water and from the truck. I walked over to the empty bench that it was lying upon, picked it up and took a swig. I swished the water throughout my mouth cleansing it from the vomit. I didn't bother with putting it anywhere proper. I just spat on the floor. I kept hearing Clive's voice over and over again in my head. Don't be scared, don't be scared. I put down the gallon jug of water. I looked up at Clive and Barrett. To relieve myself of fear, I had to be a smartass.
Clive and Barrett looked to be on pins and needles observing my very erratic and nervous behavior. I was pretty sure they thought the outcome of my fight would be somewhat catastrophic. With a cool and somber face, I raised my right arm with my index finger extended. I began to make a circular motion with my hand. Smiling I said, "let's do this shit."
Clive opened the door. Before I exited, I grabbed my black hoodie jacket. I put it on and tossed the hood over my head. Clive and I were walking side-by-side down the bland gray cement corridors. Barrett quietly following behind.
This was it. A year of horrors. A year of hard training. A year of surgical procedures and dealing with implants within my body. I saw my mother's face flash within my memory. I was doing this for her, I kept telling myself. I hoped the woman that I would fight would show me mercy, as I would show her. Or at least try.
We finally came to the end of the lengthy corridors. We came to the foot of stairs leading upward. I could hear the roaring crowd above me. The chills crawled up my spine and sweat protruded from my forehead. We slowly walked up the stairs and entered the killing floor.
The view was intense. The killing floor was about half the size of a basketball court. It was guarded by a chain-link fence that inhabited six men. Four men standing on platforms on each corner of the fence and two men in the middle. All of which carried high-powered rifles. The judge's podium consisted of a table outside the left side of the fence, with four men sitting at it. Apparently, these men would approve if death was applicable. Then there was the crowd. My mouth fully dropped open, I was staring at everyone who was involved in this terrible ordeal. Men were in their business suits, women wearing their expensive fur coats. Men were smoking cigars and drinking beer, or cups of brandy or whichever expensive liquor was available. The women would smoke cigarettes with their expensive filters, drinking from exquisite glasses filled with wine.
Disgusted I shook my head and relieved myself of breath. Barrett was talking with the man who had peaked himself through the door and informed us it was time to go. I still stood there with my mouth open, motionless.
Clive came up to me and put his arm around my shoulder. He whispered loudly into my ear. "Here's your knives Lill." He began to take a few steps back, but then walked closer to me. Because it was loud, Clive got right up into my face. "Shit, Lillian, what the Fuck I got to call yourself?"
I had to come up with something quickly. Only one name could come to mind. It was a nickname that my boss had given me years ago. I always carried knives with me everywhere I went. Every time my boss asked me for something to cut with, I gave him my switchblade. After that, he called me the Switchblade Mama. That was my nickname he gave me. That was the name I gave Clive. I was going to be the Switchblade Mama.
The Switchblade Mamma Page 11