Our Sinful Fate

Chapter One

Carmen Dalton POV

The door to the metal, windowless chamber doors opened and in entered a blue eyed girl with short white hair, pale white skin, and rage filled eyes. She stood taller than me, two or three inches to be more accurate. She held her head high and did not break eye contact with me, she knew this would either end in my favor or hers. It was kill or be killed and she was aware of it as well as I was, only one was making it out of this fight alive. 

I was already hurt and bleeding profusely from a gash on my forehead, the blood dripped over my right brown eyebrow and stained the white of my eye. 

"No weapons! Match starts in 40 seconds!" My trainer announced over the speaker as the girl tilted her head to get a better look at me. 

She was strong, she knew it too. The way her narrow eyes peered into mine, I just knew that she was a bold spirit, one who hadn't broken from the training yet, and one who never gave up. 

I narrowed my eyes to get a better look at her tags that hung on the chain around her neck. I read her name before anything else. Larima Cotes. Sixteen years old. Picked up from Crossville, Tennessee. 

My gaze shifted back to her eyes. She was blank, completely blank. The only thing I could read from this girl in front of me was that she was just as strong willed as I was, we both never gave up and we never quit. Both of us here today, stood in front of each other wearing our black tank tops and black sweatpants tucked into our combat boots, had made it through the same hell. No matter which way this fight goes, I'll remember her face forever, just like all my other victims.

"20, 19, 18-" the robotic female voice kept counting down and I tried to regain as much strength as possible. 

"10, 9, 8-"  if theirs one thing I hate most in this world more then anything else, "6, 5, 4-" it's when people underestimate me. She was doing just that, I could sense it.

I wiped the blood of my face and looked my opponent dead in the eyes as I stood tall and readied myself for the fight. 

Fuck it if the odds were against me, I'll win this fight. "3, 2, 1. Begin!" 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

My alarm clock rang and showed six o'clock in bright red letters, alerting me that it was almost time for work. Sluggishly getting out of my comfortable bed, that probably did not want me to leave, my legs moved involuntarily to my bathroom to get changed.

I hummed a soft tune to myself as my clothes fell to the floor. Staring into the mirror at my body my eyes fell over the numerous amount of scars that decorated my skin in an unpleasant manner. Each of them told a story, some fights, some dumb drunken mistakes, and some were just there, their story had been forgotten. When my eyes landed on the number code tattoo on my right wrist, all memories of my past hit me like a tidal wave. This was the only mark on my body that reminded me of a story that I wanted nothing more but to forget. 

Turning the temperature up to a bearable hot the blistering droplets hit my back and my mind began drift off into deep thought. 

Once my shower had been accomplished my consciousness urged me to dry quickly and changed into my work garb as fast as possible so my boss would not kill me for not being early. Once my work attire was on my eyes gazed into my semi fogged up bathroom mirror, scanning my body up and down before I gave myself a satisfied nod. Pleased with my appearance I spirited out of my apartment door. 

One of the things I love about living where I do in New York City, was that it was four blocks away from where I work. One of the things I hate about living where I do in New York City, was that it was four blocks away from where I work, meaning it was loud all the time and traffic was crazy because everyone was trying to get into this club. The nights were filled with car horns and music that my pillow couldn't mask when it was pushed over my head and covering my ears. The people in my apartment complex always went to this club too so when I came home from work I lived around a bunch of drunk people. Some nights on top of the car horns and loud music, loud laughter could be added to the mix, others nights its loud sex, and unfortunately some nights it was everything together. I definitely have a love-hate relationship with where I live.