Arena of Justice

7| Poetic justice

"It tastes better than it looks," the man says in a southern drawl, a wide grin on his face. "I promise."

I lift the fork to my mouth and realize he's not wrong. The rice is a little sloppy from the chicken, but at least the food is edible.

"I'm Billy," he says, sliding his tray down the table toward me. "Nice to meet you."

Even before Aron's warning, I had no intention of talking to anyone here. Why would I torture myself by befriending another inmate I know I am only going to have to kill?

It's easier if I know nothing about the people I'll be fighting in the arena. Not their names, not their backgrounds, not the stories behind the murders they committed. All I need to remember is that they are murderers, and they deserve to be here, even if I don't. But what if this inmate doesn't take too kindly to me ignoring him and he tries to target me in some way before the arena?

"I'm Zoe," I say reluctantly, praying that will be the end of our conversation, but if I've learned one thing in these past two weeks, it's that praying doesn't work.

"So, who'd you kill, Zoe?" Billy wants to know, and I almost choke on my rice.

"I thought that wasn't a very polite thing to ask in prison," I say.

Billy laughs, a deep guffaw that makes my skin crawl. "There ain't no prison etiquette here, darlin'. Don't be shy, now."

I don't want to tell him a thing about my life or the incident that led me here, but with the way he's looking at me with an almost manic expression, I feel as though I have no choice.  "I shot someone," I say quietly, my voice barely audible.

There is a brief pause. "Did he deserve it?" Billy asks.

I look up, surprised by his question. "Does anyone deserve to be shot?"

Billy ponders this for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Some do," he says, leaning forward. "I killed my neighbor, Benny O'Ryan. He kept going around sayin' things that weren't true to anyone who was dumb enough to listen. So, one day, I told him calmly, I said, 'You keep runnin' your mouth, O'Ryan, and you're gonna find yourself with a belly full of buck shot.'" He leans back in his chair now, waiting for my reaction. "Well, go on," Billy urges, his green eyes alight. "Ask me what happened next."

I swallow hard, wishing I had chosen to sit on any other table but this one. "What happened next?"

Billy slaps his leg with the palm of his hand, a sound that makes me jump. "Why, he got a belly full of buckshot," Billy grins, his face lighting up at the memory. "I'm a man of my word, Miss Zoe."

I keep my eyes focused on my food as I grip the sides of my tray, gearing myself to move away without it looking like I'm disrespecting him, or else what will I find my belly filled with? 

"That's good," I say, clearing my throat. "It's good to stick to your word. One second, Billy. I'll be right back." I get up with my tray in tow and move to another table before sitting back down.

"He can be a little erratic," says a deep voice opposite, "but he's all right."

I glance at the man before me, realizing he must have been paying attention to our brief exchange. "I don't think erratic is the word I'd use," I say. "More like crazy."

The man smiles now, revealing a perfect set of pearly white teeth. "We all must be a little crazy, don't you think? To have done the things we've done?"

I'm not, I want to say. I didn't kill someone because I didn't like what they were saying about me. I didn't kill anyone at all, but if I did, if Tristan's kill had been mine, it was to stop someone already committing a crime against us. That's different. That deserves to be recognized in a court of law.