by Skyla Madi
My cot bounces slightly and I jump as an unnoticed Jai dumps a heap of clothes onto the end of it. Pieces of small fabrics cover my worn shoes and I eye them wearily. Eventually, I glance up at him and he hands me a small bread roll. He looks refreshed—much more refreshed than I do, I’m sure.
“I figured you’re going to melt in those scrubs so I went out and got you some other stuff. Breakfast is also finished, but I managed to secure you a bread roll.”
He went out and got me some other stuff? What does that even mean? It’s not like there’s a clothing store down here. Biting into the somewhat stale bread, I reach for a piece of black fabric and hold it up. It’s a halter neck, one that isn’t long enough to cover my belly button. “Jesus, did you fight a toddler for these?”
His full, pouty lips widen into an amused smirk. “The girls down here aren’t exactly the kind of girls you’re used to. That’s the best I could do.”
“I’m not wearing these.”
He steps forward, his hands planted firmly on his hips and the previous quirk in his lips gone. “I arm-wrestled four guys and two women to get you these clothes. You’re going to wear them, even if I have to dress you myself.” Jai nods at the clothes. “You look like an idiot down here in your scrubs. These are low-key. You’ll blend right in.”
“I—”
“Put them on,” he orders, moving to stand guard at the entrance with his back to me. “They’re starting the first round of fights.”
Scoffing, I drop the piece of fabric and let the bread slip from my hand “Have fun with that.”
I’m not going to lie, the thought of seeing what I saw in the cage yesterday enthralls me. My toes curl in my shoes just thinking about it, but I’m not wearing any of these clothes. No way. I’ve always been a more conservative kind of girl. Call me old-fashioned, but a covered vagina and an unexposed belly button is sexier.
“Holy shit.” Jai groans, dragging his hands over his face. “Does everything have to be such a fucking mission with you? God. Don’t wear the black top then, I’m sure you can find something else in the pile I brought you. ”
When I don’t move towards the clothes, Jai grits his jaw and surges forward. His large hands toss clothes all around the room until eventually, he throws a pair of jean shorts and a white tank at me. I hold them up. I don’t particularly like denim...I open my mouth to protest, but Jai quickly closes the distance. I squeak in surprise and push against the heavy hands that grip my shoulders, but I’m useless to stop him. His immovable body pins me against the cot. Somehow, he’s managed to catch my wrists and he squeezes them tightly as he pins them beside my head.
“Get off!” I growl, trying desperately to struggle free.
My lungs are already having a hard time filling themselves with air. With his weight on top, I’m sure to suffocate.
“One more word,” he warns me. His voice is low and coarse, sending a tidal wave of shivers down my spine. “If one more word I don’t like falls from your pretty little mouth, I’ll throw you into the tunnel myself.”
I hear him loud and clear, but ‘pretty,’ ‘little’ and ‘mouth’ are the only words that register Naturally, my attention falls to his lips. I’ve never seen a more enticing pair. My insides turn to liquid and I feel light, as if I’m floating on water. I’ve felt this feeling before. I was twenty-one and I’d spent my birthday drinking my ass off at a new bar that had just opened up three blocks from the tired hostel I lived in. Long story short, I’d met a guy and I’d felt this feeling. Not long after, we were having sex in the alley, and when it was over, I never saw him again. Not my proudest moment, but it happened.
“Your daddy would have a heart attack if he saw the way you’re staring at my lips right now, Kitten”
Lightning flashes up my veins and zips to my heart in record time, forcing it to pump blood faster. Him and the way his pupils have darkened entrances me. I think about revealing the fact that I don’t have a father, but I do, somewhere. I have a mother, too; I’ve just never met her. It’s only me in my world. No one else.
“My father is the last person you should worry about.”
He’s smiling at me now, but there’s something raw and hungry in his eyes. “A protective older brother then?”
I shake my head. I guess I’m not going to be able to keep that part of my life from him.
“I’m an orphan.”
The sexy, sultry look that glazed itself over Jai’s features melts away. His grip on my wrists loosens, and the weight of his body becomes bearable. Still, the feeling vibrating in the lower portion of my body remains strong.
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
I let out a small, nervous laugh. “For what?”
His head angles a few degrees. “For bringing it up.”
I shrug as best I can. “It had to come up sooner or later. If you’re worried you’ve upset me, don’t be. You can’t be upset over something you never had.”
It’s a lie. I think about my non-existent family every day. It’s confusing to be so emotionally mixed up over something you’ve never known. What does a mother’s love even feel like? How does it feel to be disciplined by your father or teased by your sibling? I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t, and it’s not the fact I don’t know my mother or father that bothers me. It’s the fact a woman was able to carry me in her belly for nine months and go through so much pain to bring me into this world only to hand me over as soon as she saw me. Am I that unbearable? Was I, even as an infant?
I defend my absent mother a lot. When I’m feeling particularly bitter about my life my mind begins to pick on her, but not long after, my heart rushes to her defense. Maybe she was too young? Maybe she was forced to have me? Maybe it just wasn’t the right time or with the right person? When I’m being rational I get it, but when I’m down, it crushes me.
This time, it’s Jai’s stare that falls onto a pair of lips—my lips—and self-consciously, I lick them. As he studies each one, my heart shudders pleasantly in my chest. This has to be the weirdest situation in the world. I mean, he practically kidnapped me, yet here we are. I haven’t been touched in so long. In fact, it’s been such a long time I was beginning to think I’d never have sex again. I didn’t crave it. I didn’t even think about it, but, pinned underneath the body of a man who could, quite possibly, be the death of me, all I can think about is the touch of his lips. There’s no door to shield us from the people who pass by, but I don’t care—not like I would have ten minutes ago.
“Will you wear the shorts?” he asks, his voice quiet, soft and smooth.
I nod, focusing more on the undertone of his voice and how it makes me crave warm chocolate than his question. I blink a few times, and just like that, he’s off me, guarding the door again.
“Wait.” I utter, pushing myself up on my elbows. “That’s it?”
Looking at the side of his face I see the ghost of a smile play along his lips, but he doesn’t turn to make eye contact.
“Get dressed, Emily. We’ve only got a few minutes before the fight starts.”
Dazed, and a little confused by the use of my real name, I shuffle off the cot and ignore the ache in my back as I stand. The cot isn’t the ideal place to sleep, but it’s smoother than the mattress that folds out of the wall back home. At least there are no springs stabbing me in my organs here.
I glance down at the denim shorts and white tank top in my hands. I’m going to look ridiculous in this. Thank God it’s dark down here or everyone would see just how white I really am—and when was the last time I shaved my legs? I cringe at the thought.
In record time, I pull off my scrubs and toss them into the corner of the room. I struggle trying to pull the shorts on over my black shoes, but thankfully, when I sit down on the edge of my cot I manage to put both feet through without much hindrance. Most people take their shoes off before putting pants on, but there’s no way in hell I’m putting my bare feet on the damp ground.
Surprisingly, the jean shorts bu
tton up well and fit nicely. I run my finger around the band at the top and peer at my ass from over my shoulder. It doesn’t feel like my cheeks are hanging out. I run the palm of my hands down the back of the shorts to confirm it. My ass isn’t showing. Who would’ve thought they still make denim short shorts that cover the butt? It’s a miracle. When I look back up, I see two blue irises flick over my belly and onto my chest. I freeze, unable to help my eyebrows that pull together of their own accord. Though caught in the act, Jai doesn’t look away. Instead, his stare follows an invisible line up my cleavage, my throat and onto my face. Of course I wore my least attractive bra. Why not the lace one? Why did I choose the one made from cotton? My throat dries, my cheeks burn, and my fingers twitch at my sides, but I don’t cover myself up. I analyze his face, but he gives off no indication if my body is to his liking. Not that I want it to be...or maybe I do. I don’t know. I’ve never been so confused in my life.
Without a word, Jai turns back to peer into the tunnel.
“You’re a pervert.” I tease, arranging the tank top in my hands before pulling it on over my head.
He doesn’t look back, but I hear his smile as he speaks. “I prefer the term ‘opportunist’.”
I straighten the tank against my belly. It clings tightly to me, and the lack of nutrition in my diet shows. Hip bones...this is why I wear baggier clothes. I’m actually surprised my breasts have held up. I smooth my palms over my stomach and suck in an inhale. When I blow it out, Jai turns and this time, his eyes skip over my chest and lock onto my hair.
“Ready?” I ask, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
“Almost.”
He steps forward and I hold my breath as he reaches out and tugs on the band holding back my locks. With a swift yank, he frees my black waves and they fall around my face. I feel little as he rakes his giant hands through my hair and I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but every now and then he’ll catch some between his fingers and squeeze until my lips part and a nervous breath of air slips out. Whatever he’s doing, it feels erotic. If it were normal, my blood wouldn’t be heating the way it is and my pulse wouldn’t threaten to beat through my skin.
I open my mouth to speak, but Jai turns around and steps out into the tunnel.
“Let’s go.”
***
The cage rattles and shakes, and my heart leaps into my throat. The slap of limbs on the canvas and grunts forced from lungs penetrate the roars of the crowd. I’ve never seen anything so gritty, so magnificent. Excitement prickles over the surface of my skin like electricity on metal, but beside me, Jai sits against the wall of the tunnel, toying with a loose string on the sleeve of his shirt. How can he be bored by the action unfolding in front of us? He’s used to it, I suppose, but this is an entirely new world for me. A world that’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Every few seconds, when the fighters give themselves a quick breather, my attention flickers to the railing above the cage and the thick fingers that grip it. Skull shifts as my eyes flick over his hands, resting his elbows on the rail and leaning over to get closer to the fight. As the fighters clash and crash against the canvas again, I let my gaze move to Skull’s face and the detailed skull that stains it. I can see every bone, and every space is colored a coal black. For a moment, I find myself captivated by it—mesmerized. He is easily the scariest thing I’ve ever seen and although yesterday’s events no longer mark his skin, I feel as though I can still see the innocent man’s blood on his hands. Though scary, I can’t help but wonder if he’s ever loved a woman and what a smile might look like on his lips. I wonder what color his eyes glisten when he’s fallen in love…
I look back to the fighters who are both standing on jelly legs and exchanging heavy punches, blow for blow. One fighter, with slightly more energy than the other, ducks an incoming punch. It swings over his head, sending his opponent off balance. He wastes no time in straightening his posture and throwing a hammering punch to his chin. I gasp and shield my mouth as the opponent’s arms flail and his face snaps to the side. I see it in his eyes, the glazed look, and suddenly his head is heavier than the rest of his body. My heart pounds in my chest, in my head, in my throat—everywhere—and I can’t help but inch closer. Subconsciously, I reach back and touch Jai’s arm to steady myself as I step forward. I use him as security, in case I need to be pulled back at a moment’s notice. The dazed man sways like a tree in the wind before crashing to the canvas.
The room goes silent.
He doesn’t move.
The only sounds are the straining of the thick chains that rub against the metal railings, and the tiny passages of rain water that drip onto the concrete around us. My mouth is open, my eyes wide. I’ve never seen a knockout before.
Everyone else jumps to life, cheering the victor. The sudden surge of celebration startles me and I jump backwards, desperately clinging to Jai’s arm. The uproar vibrates the floor under my feet. I feel it in the rubber of my shoes and in the fabric of my socks before it climbs my legs. I pant, unsure if I should cheer or cry. My chest hurts, burning like I’ve smoked an entire packet of cigarettes and I realize it’s not because of the crowd. It’s because of the man that lies unconscious on the floor of the cage.
That could be me.
That will be me.
I survey him a little longer. There’s something not quite right about him. He’s still...dead still. I don’t notice two of Skull’s men, the ones from yesterday, approach the cage until they unlock the door and the winner leaps out. He clenches his torso and puts on a brave face, but it’s not enough to hold back the contents of his stomach. I cringe and look away as yellow bile spews from his mouth. Ignoring him, the goons step into the cage, unbothered that it bounces and trembles under their weight. At any second, the chains could snap. I think I’m the only one who cares.
The men reach down and slap the man on the face. He doesn’t move. They peer up at Skull briefly before testing his pulse. I keep my attention on Skull and all it takes is a shake of his head and the goons scoop up the unconscious man. When they have all of his weight in their arms, I notice a slight trail of blood leak from his mouth and nose. My blood runs cold. Is he...dead?
Outside the cage, the two men pull him higher in their arms. I expect them to carry him somewhere, to a little nook in a tunnel with someone that can help him—like a little healing bay or something. Instead, Skull announces that sometimes it doesn’t always work out and reminds us it’s a dangerous game.
And then they toss him over the edge and into the tunnel like week-old trash.
Like fucking trash.
Subversion
I pace the room, taking three steps each way before having to turn again. Jai watches me from the doorway, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He thinks I’m overreacting. He treats me as if I’m the only one who finds it appalling they tossed away the loser of the fight like he was nothing.
“He was dead already, Emily.” He sighs, apparently sick of saying it. “The punch was too much. There’s nothing anyone could’ve done.”
Silent tears burn down my cheeks and I hug myself tighter. “He probably has family...they’re never going to know what happened to him.” I inhale sharply. “What if he has a wife? Or children? They’ll grow old thinking their father left them without explanation.”
“If he was down here, he did leave without explanation.”
I stop pacing and glare at Jai. “Do you have any compassion? A human being died and he was treated like trash.”
Then, realization dawns on me, and all of the emotion I feel, all of the fear and outrage swirling around in my chest, drains out through my shoes. Even my tears dry up.
“I’m going to die down here and they’re going to throw me away.”
Jai rolls his ocean-blue eyes. “You’re not going to die.”
“I am.”
Why does he think I’m being dramatic? I have no fighting experience yet here I am, trapped underground with fighters and the only way out is to
win, lose or die.
“How does it work, anyway? Do they go alphabetically? By size? Draw straws?”
“It’s random. Skull has Marcus choose a male and female and then they choose their opponent.”
I frown. “So there’s no real structure to it?”
He shakes his head.
“Shit. Look at me. I’m an easy win.”
I could be called to fight at any second and I have no idea how to throw a punch or how to block one. I’m as good as dead.
I’ve never been a dramatic person. I’ve always been detached from my life, ready for it to end at any second and be okay with it, but not like this. There’s no dignity in dying like this.
“You will be fine. How many times do I have to say it?”
“You said it yourself, Stone. I’ll last a few minutes—maybe.”
“And maybe you will, but don’t forget, if you play it right, it can take a second to win a fight.” He pushes off of the wall and saunters closer. “So you don’t have any technique or strength. Big deal.”
Gee, thanks.
“You have speed and logic on your side. Most fighters are trained to think one way, and one way only: win, at all costs. They’ll take a single look at you and go for the knock out, completely bypassing ground game and submissions. If you don’t panic and learn a little about position and evasive techniques, I think you’ll do just fine—or, you won’t die, at the very least.”
He stands a foot away from me, hands placid at his sides. I wonder if he’d still offer to help me if I didn’t owe him ten thousand dollars. If by some freaky chance I managed to win back the money, would he dump me on my ass to fend for myself? Or would he continue to help me? He said he has a goal down here and that I’m a distraction. What’s his goal? To win money? What does he need that kind of cash for? It seems he has plenty of it. All of his clothes are branded with top-end sports logos, his little music player is Apple, and let’s not mention the twenty thousand dollars he casually pulled out of his pocket for us to be accepted. He doesn’t need eighty thousand dollars.