Selena
Blood.
So much blood. It would haunt me in my nightmares forever. Worse than anything I'd seen in the previous game; this was a massacre.
I fell back on my instincts as I watched the girls drop like flies. Amongst the few who had managed to survive was a girl with curves worthy of Marilyn Monroe who had stripped for the crowd in her desperation to win their favour. Imogen, an Australian; she'd only said a few words, but enough to pick up on her accent.
In the twisted underworld that surrounded me, I found my thirst for survival growing like brambles in my belly, coiling and winding around my organs.
I thought I'd witnessed the darkest realms of human kind, but there I was, surprised again by the cruelty some people were capable of. And their eyes would soon turn to me. Finding mercy in them was surely an insurmountable task. They had none for girls who hadn't wronged them at all; had done nothing but been brought here and expected to be capable of battling Vampires without so much as a day's warning.
The previous games seemed like a stroll in the park now. Fighting Vs was easy in comparison to what I was about to attempt: convincing nearly a thousand men that I was worth saving. When most of them probably believed I wasn't.
I focused my attention on the eighteenth girl put to the test. Her hair was as red as Cass's, her skin peppered with freckles and her eyes two copper coins that glowed beneath the lights.
By now, it was clear begging would do no good. It bored the crowd. They'd heard it before. They didn't want us to stand there pleading with them. They wanted a damn good reason to let us play their sick game.
This girl seemed to understand that as she stood, shoulders pressed back, unwinding her hands from the maroon skirt of her saloon-worthy dress.
Abraham called out her name, seeming enthralled by the whole process. “Rosaleen O'Callaghan.”
She gazed directly at the drone hovering before her and spoke in her Irish accent with a confidence I'm sure had to be faked. “I'll play your game. I'll fight anyone who tries to stop me from winning.” She raised her arms and the camera zoomed in on a zig-zag of scars sliced across them. “I don't die easily!”
Her rating ticked up from a four to a five and as she described her reason for going to prison - tracking down and killing two women for having bullied her at school - it rolled over to a six and a buzzer sounded that she was safe. Her shoulders dropped dramatically and I could almost feel the breath that left her lungs.
The next girls copied her tactic, saying how they'd fight with everything they had, telling stories of their previous bad dealings, how they longed to be freed of their prison sentences, even wanted to play the game. After that, the crowd seemed to grow bored of the tactic and more girls fell.
The two before me were saved, one by her beauty and obvious resemblance to a famous film star, the other by her boldness, hanging from the edge of the podium and telling them to drop her.
Then there was only me. And I was certain the Helsings had left me till last on purpose.
The spotlights flooded down on me and I wasn't ready, not even a little bit as Abraham called out my name, “Selena Grey! You have thirty seconds.”
The timer reset itself and there I was, standing with my mouth agape, looking completely unprepared.
There were no more boos, as I'd expected. Everyone was silent, waiting to hear what I had to say. What I could possibly offer in my defense.
I cleared my throat and the sound seemed to echo on into eternity. “For those of you who don't know...I won the last games on Raskdød. I was given to the man who placed the highest bid on me, to spend a night with him.”
The only ones that spoke were the girls lined up behind Abraham, their eyes scouring me, some curious, others intrigued.
My rating of 5 dropped to a 4 and I felt the plunge mirrored in my body.
I thought of what the stranger, Typhon, had messaged me. The tip he'd given that seemed like the only thing I had to grasp onto at that moment. I tried out a fierce look and, thankfully, it translated on the screen. “I couldn't fulfill the promise to that man. Because...well-” It was hard to say even now, dangling above a horde of ravenous Vs, worrying this could go down entirely the wrong way. “He was a disgusting pig like the rest of you.”
A collective inhale filled the air. I waited three seconds whilst my words sunk in. Some of the men started muttering furiously, others seeming surprised or even pleased.
A spark of hope ignited in my chest. I rambled on, the timer rushing down to fifteen seconds. “You make me sick. The only reason I want to play is so you can watch me kill Vampire after Vampire, knowing that it's really you I'd rather be gutting.”
A couple of wolf whistles were sent my way and men were talking animatedly between each other.
“You can kill me any day, baby!” a voice reached to me and laughter rang out around the stadium.
“You want a show?” I spat. “Then let me fight!”
The timer rolled to zero and it took me eons to register that my rating had ratcheted up to a 7.
Relief flooded me like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I clutched my chest, gasping as the drone wheeled away from me and Abraham took the central shot.
At last I registered how many of us had survived the ordeal. Just ten out of twenty three. Below us was a blood bath, the Vs scrambling over each other to drink from the fallen girls.
Bile rose in my throat and I fixed my eyes on Abraham, trying not to look down again.
“The games will continue tomorrow!” Abraham cried. “Please give a round of applause to our contestants!”
A cheer went up from the crowd who seemed to be growing rowdier by the minute. Lights blared to life around the inner ring above the Vs and they screeched as their skin burnt beneath them. Sunlamps, I realised and a dark feeling settled over my heart.
The Vs retreated into the alcoves beneath the amphitheater and I spotted several men atop the wall armed with crossbows and guns, making sure all of the Vs complied. The lamps were entirely effective though and soon, nothing remained but the bloody bodies of the fallen girls. As the doors slid closed, a clean-up crew appeared, moving the corpses onto stretchers and carrying them away.
My fingernails dug into my palms, the metallic tang of blood assaulting my senses. And I knew I'd never be able to fully eradicate the scent. My body was committing it to memory, like a tattoo etched onto the inside of my skin. I was never going to truly leave this night behind.