CHAPTER NINE
A gush of air rushed into Amelia’s lungs. She inhaled loudly, her back arching against the force of it. She grabbed Elysia’s frail hand, her eyes wide and pleading.
“You’re alive,” Elysia whispered.
Diablo spoke, “I’m glad you’re alive, my Angel. I was starting to get worried. You cannot begin to imagine the amount of money I spent on you the last two days.” Diablo sat down beside Amelia, the flimsy bed barely able to cope with the added weight.
Amelia opened her mouth to say something, but Diablo placed a gentle finger on her dry lips. “You need to save all your energy.” He stood up and looked at Elysia. He seemed distracted.
“I need a favour,” Amelia said in a strained voice through the pain. Her body ached and the sharp pain hammering against the side of her ribs was too painful to bear.
“You’re in pain. Elysia, get her some morphine.”
Amelia raised a protesting hand. Since the War, opioids had been legalised and were sold with few restrictions. The government elite were content with the masses becoming addicted and emotionally void for a large portion of their lives. It made no difference to their comfortable lives.
Elysia’s forceful hand tried to open her Amelia’s mouth to cram a capsule down her throat. Amelia struggled, bit at her tender fingertips, and stared intently at her. Elysia recoiled. Her small eyes glazed with disbelief. Amelia had no intention of taking the opioid and she was ready as ever for a fight. Fortunately, Elysia did not attempt to force the morphine down her throat again.
“She enjoys the pain,” Elysia said with a venomous gaze. She stood still for a few minutes, staring at Amelia for reasons the young woman couldn’t fathom.
Diablo sat beside her again and waved Elysia away. The room was still and silent. Amelia felt cold uncertainty pinch at her stomach. Suddenly, she gave a start as a desperate thought raced through her mind.
“I want you to send a letter to my mother about my death,” Amelia said. Her gaze was steady and her lips curled at the corners of her mouth. Although she was pale, her eyes burned with excitement. Though Amelia doubted her brother would search for her, she remembered his last words, Don’t make me find you, and wanted to be certain he would not. After all, who would search for a dead girl?
“That is lying, and I don’t encourage such despicable behaviour,” Diablo said, smiling feebly.
Amelia snorted through the pain and said, “Suddenly you’re an honourable man?”
Diablo pressed his lips together and fought to still his rage. He pressed his hand firmly on the bed and struggled to rise. She hadn’t notice earlier, but now it became clear to her: He was injured, but she couldn’t figure out where. He walked forcefully to the small glass window on her right.
“Why would I do that?” he said gloomily.
“It is not a lie. Amelia is dead, while Angel has been born. If you do this, then I’m resigned to be here forever.” Amelia paused, as though what she was about to say would be painful to endure. She used her right elbow to push herself up and sat upright against the old rusty metal frame. It was cold against her warm back. “Who will look for a dead girl?”
Diablo smiled and stared at her. She shivered. There was something sinister about the twinkle in his eyes.
“So be it.” He walked to the wooden door.
As he closed the door behind him, Amelia slipped back under the covers, the warmth of the blanket too delightful to resist.
She slept unusually long without dreaming. Diablo and Elysia came to visit her several times during the day, more from fear that she might escape than anything else. Amelia stirred from her sleep when a cold finger pressed against her cheek.
She opened her eyes to find Elysia close. She jolted and recoiled. Elysia looked hurt and quickly disappeared from the room. Amelia woke up irritable and angry and looked with hatred around the room.
It was small; the white paint and minimal furnishings gave the illusion that there was more space. To her right was a small mahogany bedside cabinet that looked worn out. There was a rocking chair parallel to the bed. Aside from those sparse furnishings, the room was bare.
There was a small piece of paper on the chair with the word Deal written on it. A small smile crept onto her face. Diablo had agreed to send a message to Amelia’s family to inform them of her “death.” It was the only way to keep her mother and brother safe.
Amelia swung her legs off the bed and struggled to her feet. The wooden flooring felt unbearably cold against her bare feet. She held onto the cabinet for support and stood in that same position for what seemed like a lifetime.
Suddenly the door swung open and Diablo stood in the doorway, looking at her, smiling. For a man who did such despicable things, he was always smiling, and that scared her the most.
“Good, you’re ready for a fight.” He beamed.
“No, I’m not. I’m in a lot of pain and need rest.”
“I offered pain relief. You have less than an hour before the audience comes to watch a spectacular game. I hope by then you’re ready.”
Diablo closed the door. Amelia sunk back into the bed. She had no choice but to fight.
She sat on the bed, daydreaming for several minutes, before Elysia came and offered the painkillers one last time. Amelia was smart enough not to refuse this time. Then she followed Elysia back to the basement to gather all the other team members.
As she walked down the creaking staircase, she saw Ace by the landing. Why was Ace allowed out of his cell unattended?
“How did you get out of your cell?”
“It isn’t a cell,” he said, his face as expressionless as ever.
Amelia stood beside him, glaring at him, while he remained distant. What was going through his mind? Unable to restrain herself, she blurted out, “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“You ask a great deal of questions that will never satisfy you.”
“How do you know I won’t be satisfied?”
“You’ve been here for some time now and yet you ask the same questions in a hundred different ways. Doesn’t that bore you?”
Amelia was uncertain. What could she say? She pressed her lips together tightly.
“I see people like you all the time. Fighters with natural talent that many here would gladly sell their soul for, but you…” he trailed off. He seemed distracted.
“Don’t stop now,” Amelia hissed.
“You’re a waste.”
Amelia clenched her fist and punched him on the nose. His head jolted backward as he lost his bearings. After he regained his posture, he touched his nose and looked at his blood-soaked fingertips, then merely stared at her. There was no malice in his eyes.
“If what I say is a lie, then why does it bother you?” With that he walked away and climbed the stairs.
Did he truly mean what he said? Why was he so spiteful? Amelia tormented and taunted herself with these questions all the way to the arena.
She was not fully conscious of her surroundings when she entered the arena, but the loud cheers of the crowd brought her to her senses. She raised her eyes and stared for a long time at the crowd, their cheers and chants echoing in her ears, until she felt the nibbling sensation of a headache surfacing.
She wondered if she would be forced to fight even in such a state.
“I hate this place,” she muttered to herself.
Rose, who appeared almost out of nowhere, placed a firm hand on her shoulder and asked, “How was your holiday?”
“What holiday?” Amelia said, a smile creeping onto her face.
“Don’t be so modest! Anyways, a lot has happened since you’ve been snoozing in the sterile room.”
“Why is it called the sterile room?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Amelia nodded her head, even though she didn’t understand. Afraid of looking stupid, she shrugged off the question.
“What happened?”
“Apparently, Diablo has to sell off one of us to th
e King.”
“Who is the King?”
“No one knows. He never comes himself. He always sends a different person seemingly unrelated to him.”
Amelia paused at this new revelation. None of this made any sense to her. Why was this King interested in one of them? Why now? And who would he pick?
For hours she remained seated on the bench, looking at the people fighting but not really watching. Sometime after walking in she had managed to drown out their voices, or perhaps her own thoughts were too loud to hear the crowd. In any case, it made no difference to her. She’d had enough of it all.
Eventually, an announcement caught her attention. It was Sue in the middle of the arena, waving to the crowd, her small frame more delicate than ever. Although Amelia was happy she was alive, she was reminded of the blood and what Sue had said.
She hadn’t thought too much about it since that day, but now, the thoughts came rushing down in a torrent. She opened her mouth to ask Rose but decided against it. What would she know?
The games finished; she was fortunate enough to have been spared from fighting. Perhaps it was Diablo exercising compassion. She couldn’t be too sure. She left the crowd chanting as she walked to the basement.
The rest of the day dragged. She sat on her bed feeling somewhat deflated. She knew she had to go on, but had lost the energy.
Then she saw her bag in the corner of the cell, neatly placed by the bedside. She had completely forgotten about her rucksack—after all, there was nothing of value in it. Amelia reached out and grabbed it, opened it, and examined the contents. Something tugged at the tips of her fingers, and she pulled out a small piece of paper, unfolded it, and read the contents.
Dear Amelia,
You’re far more valuable than you think, and the things you know may one day put your life in jeopardy. I never wanted this life for you. Somewhere between having you and Daniel, I lost the way. I forgot to be the brave father you thought I was when you were little. The only thing I know is that right now, you’re not safe. Perhaps this letter has come to you too late, and for that, I am truly sorry. I am not half the man you think I am. Don’t come looking for me. You will not find the answers your heart yearns for. Look after your brother and know that I’m sorry. Know I never meant to hurt you and I love you.
Father
Amelia read the paper with tears streaming down her cheeks. Why hadn’t she noticed this letter before? How long had it been in there? What did her father mean by all of it? She clasped her hand over her mouth and shook her head in disbelief; her father knew they were coming for him. But why didn’t he run? There were so many unanswered questions, Amelia felt as though her head would explode if she didn’t stop thinking.
Defiance Page 11