A Bitter Escape

~Three~

The days passed, the screams got louder, the screams were so familiar. It was like it was coming from someone I knew, someone important. Who though? Her.. It was her. No. No. NO. I can't let them take her, not alone. This is so stupid. I know I can't, I physically can't. I can't talk, I can't yell, nothing. I know what I can do though, I can scream, in a way, at least a little, I think. No. No. No.. 

Yes. 

I need this.

She can't go through this, I've heard the screams.

No.

No.

Yes.

It took all my strength, every little ounce, and it hurt like a bitch. I screamed, as loud as I could, louder, louder, louder. Please work, please. Orso, where are you? You're supposed to take me, don't let me down. Please, don't let me down. Orso.. As if on cue, he stormed in. Angry, but impressed, hopefully. He grabbed my arms with force, gentle force, unlike the others. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, he was like family, a brother, or a father at least. I haven't exactly had either. 

He tossed me into a room, well, more like pushed. It was a little uncomfortable, but there was nothing I could do. At least, so I thought. I'm not his duty anymore, I would belong to someone else. It wasn't that bad, this new cell. There were more things, weapons, even a window. The light burned my eyes, It was foreign to me now, light, aside from weak candlelight coming from down the halls. The room seemed like what I remembered to be a normal, children's room. I was almost six feet tall, so it might be a little tough, but considering I'm flexible, I can just curl up in a ball. The walls were lazily painted, and not loose brick. 

Weapons in a children's room seemed weird, but a good weird. Is this the torture? Is it? They'll use those weapons, human weapons. This isn't normal. Doors, not bars. What is this? This isn't punishment. I looked around, looking, looking. Books? I remember those, they were like a trip, not to anywhere here at least. There were books in my old cell, interesting, but too easy. These books were at least six-hundred pages each. They were all of training, fantasy, anything I've ever wanted to read again. Pencils. Paper. Books. Weapons. What?

A Keeper walked in, not Orso, someone new. Female? Maybe. She had red hair up in high pigtails that reached below her heavily muscular waist. She was clearly bigger and stronger than me. She had bright yellow eyes, unnaturally enlarged by her circle glasses. She wore a skin tight body suit covering everything needed with golden armor and beads. Her skin was a darker blue, not too dark, maybe that shade of blue the sky gets when clouds start to pile up. Countless scars on her, war scars, some bigger than others, some still healing, some jagged, some perfectly straight. 

She signaled for me to stand up, I did so with no hesitation, attempting eye contact with the tower-like woman. The looked down at me, like a minority. She took a knife, a long knife, not sword long, but long. She gave it to me, and pulled out one of her own.

She wanted to fight. Me of all people, she wanted me to fight her. I guess there wasn't getting out of this, I took my stance, and she took the first swing.