The Curse of Water

Chapter 12- The Death of the Child in the Mirror

Chapter Twelve – The Death of the Child in the Mirror

My jaw hits the pavement as the blazing sun forces the sweat from my brow to cloud my vision after my opponent managed an unexpected blow. Beside the loose tooth under my tongue and the stars I feel circling over my head I'm actually in a fairly good mood. My hand slides to my leg for about the thousandth time today, making sure that what my pocket hides is in fact reality, and again I feel the card that leads me to the Champion's Market Hall. I'm finally through the worst, wrapping up my eighth Physical Competition Event of the Semi-Finals with a score of 161. I am currently competing in Hard Plastic Rod Combat on Mixed Terrain for Third Place. I give myself a hard push off the ground and I'm back in the game, staring in the eyes of my opponent. His talent of throwing his voice and sounds across the arena doesn't give him enough advantage to make up for the fact that he has probably never fought a day in his life. He was tall, big and awkward (even more so than me, which is pretty hard to achieve) and other than a couple lucky hits, completely clueless about what he was doing. And while he did manage in the beginning of the fight to distract me, in the past month of living with someone I wasn't talking to, and running into people from my recent past that I was still mad at I've learnt to ignore looks and sounds from around me pretty well. One, two, turn, turn, hit. My rod lands on the small of his back and he stumbles across to the silk grass. Come on, it's like he's not even trying! The only thing I will give him is that he is sure stubborn enough to continue on in our fourth hour with a bleeding nose and, from what I can guess, a sprained ankle. His large frame turns around with an angry roar, swinging his rod in my direction. In this predictable moment I raise my own staff, hitting his wrist hard, and in under a second I hear his loud cry and the soft landing of the rod on the grass.

I take a relaxed breath and observe the cheering crowd around me. A genuine adoration not for my title or my family but for me, for my skill, for who I am. Even seeing Apollo and Ryder watching my game can't spoil my moment of triumph. My opponent, still clutching his wrist, dives for his rod as I leisurely walk over, twirling mine in my hands. He can only hold his in his left hand, and I feel sweet victory within my reach. I let him have a few good swings but easily avoid injuries, and I can see him tiring. His face gets redder and redder the harder he fights and in his final look of panic my rod slams against the back of his knees bringing his entire body to the ground. It's time to end the game here and now. I take a quick glance up to the stands and I see Apollo holding his breath as Ryder shakes his head. My eyes slowly travel down to the guy twice my size who I managed to turn into a trembling mess.

I hear my name from the left and in a quick glance journey to my reflection in my father's eyes, except this time the child awakens. He begins to stand. His eyes burn with determination. This is my chance, my chance to be a warrior, my chance to prove my worth. My heart is shut, my will is iron, and my mind is stone. I take a deep, hard, merciless breath and bring my rod down on the guy's left hand. The staff falls, his white knuckles loosen and his agonizing cry fills the silence of the stadium.

Then the cheers shake the walls around me and drown out his misery.

I won. I drop my weapon and step away from further responsibility. Gershon's lips break into a tight smile and as my gaze shifts I see the look of consummate disappointment on my best friend's face. So what if I won? I did what I had to do and it wasn't my fault that he wasn't strong enough to beat me. Besides, I wasn't going to go to the Finals with only a Beauty Event Top 3 qualifying me. And who knows, I could maybe go all the way. Then I look over and watch that security guy I've seen around along with two others drag my opponent to his feet...and...no, come on Marcus...don't feel guilty.

***

My fight for Second Place was not anywhere near as easy as the previous one. At least not up until now, our first break at the 30 minute point, and though I've not had any competitions for two days I'm exhausted. There is a part of me that misses connecting with my friends, but being able to get some rest has been nice. I haven't been able to bring myself to read Conroy's romance novel but I have been able to get away from Apollo's silent treatment by attending a few awesome parties with James. And though he didn't join me in the practice, I even got to the point of black out drunk a couple of times, which, though very disconcerting, has made me forget about the struggle in my mind.