The Awakening

Chapter 4

"You cannot sell dreams to those who have walked through nightmares."

- Unknown

~**~

Chapter 4

Saskia let out a raspy breath, her ribs protesting from the littlest of movements. Blood impaired her vision slightly, the blow to her forehead leaking blood down the side of her head. The previous fight ended with her victory; her opponents body dragged across the sandy terrain as if they were nothing more than scrap being discarded away. She felt no remorse, no regret as her blank eyes followed the body being disposed of. It was the only way to survive. Having too much emotion destroyed you in a nefarious place like this. There was no trust between people, all had witnessed too much, felt too much to trust anyone else.

The harsh sun blazed down on her back, hair matted to her head from a mix of sweat and grease. Her lips were dry and cracked as she longed for a sip of water. In her mind she could practically taste the fresh, cool liquid. But she knew that was an illusion, for she hadn't had a decent drink of water in weeks. Maybe months. She didn't know anymore. She felt time slipping away from her the longer she spent there, no longer caring to keep count. The crowd yelled and jeered, disgusting leers on their lips as they watched the carnage below. They rejoiced in blood being spilt, desired the bloodlust and slaughter. She watched the crowd impassively, her sombre eyes passing over faces that seemed so ordinary. Normal. And yet, anyone who revelled in an activity like this would undoubtedly harbour only wicked hearts, for those with hearts would recoil in horror at the sight.

Saskia heard but didn't really listen as the commentator that was hosting the event introduced the combatants, his nasally voice grating at her ears. Her eyes watched like a seasoned predator, focusing on his thick jugular with deadly intent. If only she could kill him. She longed to, like she longed for food and water. She knew his time would come one day, but she was starting to feel impatient. The crowd roared wildly, breaking her out of her attention, their rambunctious shouts getting louder as the gate at the other end of the ring opened.

The breath in her chest stopped.

She watched, frozen in time as a short, familiar figure walked through. His steps were small, tiny arms held to his stomach fearfully as he stopped opposite Saskia. His eyes avoided the crowd, visible tremors wracking his body as he listened to the snarls of the depraved mass. He lifted his head, meeting Saskia's eyes. A bright smile adorned his lips, still so innocent despite what life he had been dealt with. She couldn't return it. Her body shuddered, knowing what was coming and unable to stop it. Helplessness choked her, the looming possibility hanging over her like a dark omen. His sapphire eyes met hers, an understanding of life that shouldn't have been there. He should have lived life freely. He should have loved and been loved. But here he was, in a place not suited for a child. A place the wicked ran free and the innocents in shackles.

The commentator's voice rung clearly, "Let the battle begin."

The gong rang three times, signalling the start of what should have been a bloodbath. But instead of speeding towards her opponent with a weapon in hand, she walked towards him on numb feet. She stumbled and collapsed onto her knees in front of him, holding onto his arms tightly. Her eyes filled with tears, lips trembling as she hugged the harmless child. Her throat tightened, croaking out a few words, "You need to kill me, Julian."

"No," he whispered.

"You must."

"I can't," he cried. His whole body shook with sobs, clinging onto Saskia with all his might. The crowd jeered around them, chanting like possessed demons as they watched the scene in front of them.