Mad | ✔ | GB+SB

Chapter Four

I walk quickly to the gym and find Jacob, my sadistic trainer.

"Diamond! There you are!" He greets me with a smile that is almost hidden by his bushy beard.

Jacob is tall and incredibly bulky. He has short black hair and dull blue eyes and tattoos covering him from his neck down. Jacob has been my trainer for as long as I can remember. He is the one that came up with my fighting name, Pink Diamond. I personally think it is a bit of a mouthful, but Jacob thinks it suits me and my image.

I like that I go out there wearing pink and white, calling myself Pink Diamond, get underestimated, and whoop everyone's asses. Of course, I have lost before, but not in the last few years. They probably just give me easier fighters to go against.

Jacob gets me started on the treadmill and sets the speed at a jog to get me warned up. Then we move on to stretching and then weight training. Once my muscles feel dead, we move on to hand to hand combat. After we're both bloodied and bruised, Jacob has me practice with a variety of weapons before finally letting me stretch and cool down.

Feeling dead, I collapse in a bench gulping down water.

"Great job today!" Jacob calls cheerfully like he didn't just force me to exercise for four straight hours and get beat up by me and beat me up for an hour of it. Now, I may question my sanity, but I do not question his. I know for a fact that he has no sanity for me to question.

I wave tiredly at him, too exhausted to do much else.

I only have an hour to rest up and prepare for my fight.

After catching my breath and allowing some of the feeling to return to my muscles, I get up with a groan and head to my room where I take a shower.

I hate showers.

With a vengeance.

I guess they are just another thing that I am obsessive about.

Mother often leaves me chained up in the shower until I am able to free myself from the chains. Plus, she occasionally water boards me.

I think my hatred of water is completely justifiable.

Grimacing, I step in the shower and quickly get clean and wash my hair as fast as one can wash hair as thick and long as mine.

Speaking of hair, one of the boys, Gabriel, I believe, was staring very strangely at my hair. I wonder what that was about.

Calling it good, I turn off the water and dry myself off and dry my hair as well as I can. I get dressed in a pair of pink shorts and a pink long sleeved short that hides my rippling muscles but still shows my curves. Mother says it makes me look more innocent and I need all the help I can get to look innocent since I am just a shameful whore.

I hate that I am not allowed to dress myself.

My lack of freedom frustrates me terribly.

I touch my piercing and trail my finger down to my bottom lip and push it in to chew on it like I always do when I am thinking. I used to when I was nervous. That habit got beat out of me. No doll shows emotions, especially not nerves.

I wrap my hands and feet with the long wraps and head to the ring.

The ring is in a room that is more like a giant pit in the ground. The ring is the centerpiece of the room with stands all around it ending full up with the bloodthirsty spectators. There are no windows, but lights dangle down from the ceiling, caged in protective metal. The room is well lit so that the audience can clearly see the fight and who they are betting on.