Chapter two

Janel POV

Stars are already flying in my vision. I mentally curse myself for letting my guard down that easily. The world dips and spins beneath my feet, and I struggle to hold on, to stay conscious. The world is just a piece of black and white, with the earth spinning rapidly beneath my feet. Fight, Janel, your life is going to end in a few seconds if you don't fight back now, so Woman Up!

My opponent sends another punch over at me. This time, I manage to dodge it, and bring my hands up to my face to attempt to recover as quickly as possible without getting hit again.

The spectators are getting bored; I can tell from the way the light that was once there is now gone from their eyes, the tension in the air just before they start to jeer. I hate this place, but I don't have a choice. I need to live on.

And so I decide to push myself to the limits.

My head tilted down, eyes looking straight forward at my opponent. I begin to circle around the arena, opponent opposite. With my other hand up, I point towards myself, taunting him.

He charges right at me.

A swirl to the left, and he smashes into the wall.

I take my chance.

He's low on health, definitely. Crimson liquid drips from his ear. Blood doesn't stop me, it doesn't tug at my conscience. This is what happens when you are too used to killing people. It makes your heart turn to stone. Cold, fearless, heartless. That's what they call me.

An evil smile cracks on my face. I tease him by taunting him again. He doesn't respond.

His fate is sealed.

Despite my splitting headache, I charge at my opponent and tackle him to the ground.

Another kill today, Janel.

I close my eyes and smash my fist down on that person, over and over and over, wishing that this was just a bad dream. My opponent grabs me by the waist and throws me to the ground.

The crowd goes wild.

Groaning, I bring my hand to the back of my head in an attempt to soothe the pain. My fingers come back stained red.

I climb to my shaky feet, the world focusing and unfocusing, my vision like my AutoCam. I'm going to get injured so bad after this fight...maybe I'll even lose.

You can't. You need to go find out the reason why your parents died.

The word "died" is just another word for "attempted suicide". I don't have the courage to tell myself that they killed themselves. It makes me feel as if I'm not worth enough for them, as if I'm destined to kill myself too.

It's a stupid thought, I know, but I honestly don't know how to make myself feel better. Because, I know, that my life is on the line.

I charge towards my opponent again, and this time I don't stop. I kick and punch and elbow and attack like there's no tomorrow.

There won't be one if I lose, anyway.

The skin over my knuckles start to tear and the friction makes it hard to fight on, but I don't stop. I can't just let my life slip away like that, especially since I'll finally have enough money to fly to America to find out why my parents had thrown their life away.

But there's a possibility that I'll be trapped tomorrow, after everything.

But I shouldn't worry about that right now; there are much more important things to think about and focus on.

"Three!" Someone yells, and I realise I've knocked my opponent out. He lies there, blood seeping from his mouth, his nose, his head. The sight doesn't sicken me, not a bit. Seen that too many times.

I killed him.

"Two!" The group crowded at Bloodshed screams in unison.

"One!" Everyone roars, and medics run up the stage. I was half-conscious already. I could vaguely hear some people saying, "Toldya, she would win." They grab me by my limbs and lead me to a back room.

"I told you, Janel, that you should not be here," Calum says lowly.

"I need the money," I reply, as if he doesn't already know.

I met Calum when I first joined Bloodshed. I don't know how, but he just suddenly became my friend, there and then, and he's stuck with me throughout. He's a giant teddy bear if you can look past his dangerous looks and messy hair. That's one of the reasons that he's a medic—he wasn't suitable to be a fighter.

Calum has always been trying to convince me that I shouldn't fight, and he's been nagging at me for years now.

And he completely blew it when he found out about the marriage, and since then he's been unusually quiet.

"Is that really so important to you?" Calum asks, his brows drawn together tightly as we turn down the hallway, his arm around my waist to support me.

"You know why," is my only reply. It's too dangerous to talk here; if the cameras catch it that'll be the end of it all.

I've become famous in an instant ever since my engagement with Wesley Barne, who just happens to be one of the richest men in town, and also one of the most cunning and twisted. Rumors say he's violent and easily provoked.

I didn't have a choice. My supervisor, or also known as the person who handles me and the cash that Bloodshed spectators bet on me, gave me a choice—either the marriage or get killed by him.

Wesley wanted power—and what's better than having Bloodshed's golden fighter hanging from his waist?

Besides, I'll be able to get money from him after the marriage—unless he breaks that deal, which is highly possible. The world is full of risks now anyways, and I might as well take a shot.

On my part, I intend on running away with the money after I get my hands on it. I hate Wesley to the core. He's sick and cruel and everything I'm not. I need to get to America as soon as I can, and leave this life behind.

We enter a room, with a dentist's chair in the centre. I sit on it, and Calum lowers the seat.

"Miss Bailey, how are you feeling today?" Another medic asks.

"I'm fine." I say through gritted teeth. I don't want the pills or injections today. I'm much too stressed and worried to think straight, and the thought of those medical equipment...it reminds me of my parents' suicidal attempt.

I don't know why, but I keep going back to that time.

Those jabbers and knives and needles and what not... they really look like killing things, with the gleam from the metal shining right at my very eyes.

"You know the consequences of not telling us," Calum warns.

I know they're here to help heal me, but I hate the process.

"Go ahead," I snap, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh.

I can feel Calum's frown, penetrating through my and triggering my guilt. I attempt to not to budge or let it show. I'm not going to be a weakling.

Then Calum sighs, and I know I've won. There's a clicking of boots before a cold, wet object swipes against my skin. I stiffen.

A needle pokes my skin and I almost cry out, of shock and not of pain. I've felt the needle all too many times, poking me, a pain blossoming there, the feeling of something moving inside your arm, and it hurts even more when you move.

Then slowly I fade away.

*

When someone grabs my arm again, the hand is cold and slippery. I quickly pull away, my head feeling groggy, as if it'd been pulled through water.

"Thank you for fighting at Bloodshed," the people in the room say, but I know Calum is just mouthing the words. He hates this place, but he has no choice—his father left the home a long time ago, leaving him with his younger sister, Cassidy, to look after. "Your loyalty is appreciated." They raise their fist to their chest, and it's like a salute.

I bow my head, grab my belongings and walk out the door. I hear a few rustles behind me, and then someone follows me, his footsteps trailing just a few paces behind me.

I know it's Calum, without even having to turn my head. He's off shift now, and is about to return home to his sister.

We don't speak until we've stepped out of Bloodshed, and the giant stone that has been pressing down on my chest finally lifts up. The air is cool on my face and I can't help but inhale deeply, feeling as if it cleanses me from the inside out, and I am finally free.

"Hey," Calum says, jogging to catch up with me. I reply with a simple "hi" and a smile.

Calum and I have been inseparable ever since we became friends—and half of the people at Bloodshed had thought that we'd end up together, until the engagement, that is.

The thought of tomorrow's wedding sends my throat into knots and my stomach flips.

I don't want to marry Wesley, that's for sure, but I don't want to marry Calum either—I don't want to be his burden. In the past, yes, I had this silly and stupid crush on him, but I guess it fizzed out pretty quickly, a result of how time dulls things as time passes. My 13-year-old self must have been so gullible.

So when Calum suddenly grabs my wrist, I don't know why but sparks fly—the good kind, the kind that should send me running because it's so foreign, but I don't even think I'll get far, he's holding me too tight.

"Hey, listen," Calum turns me to face him. We're standing in the middle of the road, and it seems so weird that butterflies are whizzing about in my stomach and there's a cool breeze blowing on my-our faces. He's just my best friend, nothing more.

"You don't have to marry Wesley," he states calmly.

"I know."

"And I know that you're not doing it because you want to. You want his money.I'm correct, ain't I?"

My eyes drift slowly towards him and I cock an eyebrow. "What's your point?"

Calum opens his mouth to answer when his ContactPad rings. He slips it out of his pocket, and quickly slides his thumb across the screen.

"Calum?" Cassidy's innocent and sweet voice reaches my ears.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he smiles, "what's wrong?"

A cough suddenly sounds from the ContactPad.

"Are you sick, honey?" He asks, furrowing his brows.

"Mm hmm, but it's just a little—"Cassidy coughs yet again, this time more vehemently, "—cough. Nothing to worry about.-cough-Is Janel with you?"

Calum passes the ContactPad to me.

"Hello, Cassie," I say, and she giggles, the child she is.

"Hi, Janel!" She yells excitedly.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, concerned.

Cassidy is Calum's only family member left, and I know with no doubt that if something happens to her, Calum will snap.

He didn't cry when his father left. He didn't cry when his mother died. His will is the strongest, among my small network of friends, that I've ever known in my life. But if his little angel goes to heaven, he'll have no one to look after, to fall back on, to support. He will shatter into a million pieces. He will, maybe, try to join his family up there.

There's no time to think about that. That won't happen.

"I'm okay," she reassures me in her childish voice. Then she erupts in a fit of coughs.

"You better get more rest, okay? And remember to eat your meds."

"Okay, I will," I can imagine her bobbing her head.

"Janel? Can I ask you a question?" After a while she talks again.

"Yeah, sure," I reply.

"Do you love Calum?"

My face heats up and my heart skips a beat. "Why the question?"

"I want you to marry him so that we can be sisters, and Calum can be happy."

I look up from the ContactPad to see that Calum is flushing bright red. He takes the ContactPad.

"Cassie, Janel and I have to go, okay?" Without waiting for her reply, he says, "bye." -Beep- And then turns to me, his eyes serious.

"Janel," he takes a step towards me. Cautious, I take one back. He clears his throat.

"You can live happily without the money, Janel." He pauses for a while. "I'm willing to provide for you."

My cheeks are as hot as my AutoCook pot. So does his.

"Calum—"

"I'm serious, Janel. You don't need to...marry me or anything, I just...I don't know..." He scratches the nape of his neck.

"No."

His eyes meet mine. "Janel, this isn't a time to care about your pride. I get it that you want to be independent and earn your own money, or even have tons of it...but this isn't the way."

I don't budge.

"Please, Janel," Calum grabs my wrist, his gaze pinning me in place.

And like time has suddenly slowed down, he inches closer, closer, and then we're centimeters apart, our noses also touching.

"Janel...I'm going to say this once. It's either us or Bloodshed." He states firmly.

Now he's giving me an ultimatum. And it's almost impossible to choose. Now, Calum is so close that his breath tickles my cheeks and if I just move a little closer...

I shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

Does money really matter that much to me? All my life I've been raised in a poor neighbourhood. All my life, I've never had a grand meal. All my life, I've always wanted to do something for myself, I've always wanted to earn money so one day I can go back to the time when I was poor and think that I've become stronger, that I've become... A Fighter.

"Janel," Calum says, his lips dangerously close. His eyes are no longer fixed on my eyes. They're locked on my lips. I almost lean forward. Almost.

I can smell the familiar scent of mint and cool air and...home on his white T. My eyes close as I see the world fade around me into darkness. I don't know why, the little voice in my head told me to...

And in that split second I make my decision.

"I'm sorry," I say, and turn and run like the coward I am.

I run from my home, my roots. I run from my best friend, my pillar of support. I run from everything I've ever known and back towards what I need.

And call me stupid, but I'll do anything to live, even if it means giving up everything I have, trust me.