Trickster

Fear

Chapter 13: Fear

The next several weeks seemed to disappear once I managed to find a comfortable pace in which to go through the day. I would ignore watching the frequently broadcast fights and instead, engage in a healthy session of meditation with Krystal, who had been so kind as to offer me her secrets on the matter. The hectic schedules and the fast response times had almost become second nature for me. Unfortunately, that was exactly what I was trying to avoid. All I really wanted was to leave this God forsaken place and return home with Joselyn.

"Joselyn..." I spoke out, immediately breaking the meditation session that I had undergone with Krystal. Looking to the clock above me, I shake my head, as if coming out of a trance (and I probably did) and immediately noticed three hours had went and gone since we started. It felt closer to three minutes, but I suppose those are the effects of attempting to truly understand one's self through intense mental analysis. I stood up out of my cross legged position and stretched every stiff joint in my body, before looking over to Krystal, who gave me a curious glare. 

"That's the third time in the last week you've mentioned this Joselyn character. Would you mind explaining who she is?" Krystal asked in that stoic voice that I now considered to be normal from her. I let out a sigh and leaned up against the see-through door that kept us in this cell. 

"Do you know that opossum that passes by every now and then?" I asked, with a rather distant tone. Krystal nodded before actually speaking her response.

"Yes. I've seen her pass by. She appears to have a major grasp of authority here. All the guards practically cower in fear when she simply walks down these halls."

"She's who I keep calling to. See, we were... are... in a relationship of sorts." I silently questioned myself about that hesitation in my words as soon as my lips closed. I silently began to wonder if the isolation from the outside had been doing more to me than I originally thought.

"Ah. So, that explains why she takes several extra seconds to view you when she passes by. I first thought she had some sort of grudge against you, but the way she stares at you... it had to be something else. I couldn't quite pinpoint it, but I knew it had to be." Krystal's realization was supported by an affirming nod on my part.

Deciding that whatever the problem was, I'd deal with in later, I quickly return to my mediation. It was an admittedly short session, interrupted this time not by my own demons, but from three guards just outside my cell. Before I could even turn around, two were already at my sides, with the third standing right outside.

"Sir, please come with us." The guard outside spoke, his voice stoic and even demanding. Unable to do anything else, I stood up and slowly made my way out. I looked back to my cell and shot a worried glare toward Krystal, who offered me only one piece of advice before the guards locked the door. "Stay calm." She spoke in a hushed tone. I immediately had a sinking feeling once the trio began guiding me toward the elevator. The ride down seemed much longer than any of the previous times I've been on it, which only served to make the pit of anxiety in my stomach that much deeper. Once it stopped, I took a deep breath, desperately trying to remember all of Krystal's teachings about focus and mediation a they began to slip away from my mental grasp, unsureness and aprehensiveness in its place. The doors slid open, and what I saw was yet another hallway, but this time, much wider. Panning my head, people were there too, human and furry alike. All were at stations, typing on computers. Some were standing in front of television screens that broadcasted a large and empty room. The ones in front of the televisions spoke in whispers I could easily picked up as the guards guided me toward a single white door on the opposite side of the room.

"I'm betting fifty on the other one."

"I've got thirty riding on this one."

"Gonna be a short show."

They were betting...

Once that realization came to me, I knew the only logical conclusion would be that it was on a fight; and I was going to be a competitor.

The guards opened up the white door, and shoved me in. The moment I could, I turned around and threw myself on what now looked like a simple section of wall. Desperately searching for a handle that I knew I probably couldn't turn anyway. Slowly, I turned myself around and spotted a large figure wearing the same jumpsuit I did. The bulging muscles and the hulking appearance were all too familiar. It was Beuregard. The man I prayed I'd never fight, standing before me, waiting to beat me to a bloody pulp. I had a sinking feeling this would not end well...