Fighting. It’s what she lived for.

Fighting. It’s what she lived for. No one could beat her. She was invincible.

“Down goes another.”

“KO.”

“Kill.”

It didn’t matter the situation, the opponent, she always won. The blood on her hands was endless and dark as her name. She didn’t care anymore she was numb. 

“I put 15 on Red.”

“25.”

“170!”

She was a tool and she accepted it long ago. So, she lived for the fight for the thrill of the hit and the sound of the crowd around her. She lived for the light that only came to her in her darkest hours, when they let her out of her cell and she was sent to hurt and kill. It amused her sometimes. She could remember a time, faintly, long before all this started. When she was told, what she did now was wrong, when she had been so scared of the dark and of the pain. Then, back then, she would have called herself a murderer, killer. Now, she was just surviving. No win no meal. That was their rule.

So that day when he had suddenly entered her life she didn’t know how to respond. He was brought before her like all the rest. Yet he was different.

“This one is the last one.” The scruffy voice of her faceless captor whispered.

Confusion

“If you beat this one you are free.”

“-W-h-at?”  her voice hoarse form lack of use. When was the last time she had used it?

“They want him gone girl. You finish this one and you are free.” She looks at the being that she has come to know as her one lifeline to the world. A man so demented it showed on his outward appearance. Could he be serious? She looks back at the man in front of her. He seems harmless. He doesn’t have much muscle but he isn’t weak.  He stands in a stance of submission. not fear or anger, like most. What could a man like that have done to deserve this punishment? Still, the question doesn’t matter ,because this man is her ticket to freedom. So, she disconnects like always and watches from afar as her life changes. The rush of the fight fills her and she strikes.

He stands before her not flinching as she comes. He is calm and almost sad. In fact as he looks at her she feels pity flowing from him. It almost makes her hesitate but then the first punch hits and it signs his death. He takes each hit without fighting back. She can feel as his bones crunch beneath her. His hands cracking under her foot. His ankles breaking with her kick. And with each hit more blood covers her hands.

Guilt should be her companion.

Yet, she feels relief.

The blood is everywhere now and she can faintly hear the sounds of the crowd around her but in this moment there is only him and her. The last punch is coming she can feel it and he knows it. His battered and bruised face looks up at her as if giving her permission and like a viper, she strikes.

                The crack of his neck brings her back to the present. It’s then she notices the blood around her, on her. It’s then that the noise of the crowd is too great. For she just killed an innocent man! He lies before her in almost the same place he started. The only thing that moved him was the force of each of her hits. Her lifeline, the demon, comes to her, grabbing her from behind and she flinches away from his suddenly sheering touch.

“You are done now you are free.” The words coming from his mouth sound venomous and wrong. Yet, she takes her leave but once she leaves the ring, she is lost. Where should she go? When was the last time she wandered alone? As she makes her way blindly through the crowd, she can’t help but notice that they haven’t moved the man. In fact, they seem to do not intend to do so. Instead, they stand around celebrating and laughing. Their smiles are sharp as knifes.

She doesn’t know when they leave or why she didn’t. But eventually the place, her prison, is empty and she is left alone with the rotting body of the man. She can’t help but be drawn to him as she steps gingerly onto the mat. As she approaches the man, the feelings inside her fill up. The pain from her grief and confusion, overwhelm her and she cries out in strife. Kicking the man, she falls to her knees, hearing again the sickening sound of bones breaking a thing that once gave her a thrill.

Her tears fall, mixing with the blood below.

“I'm sorry!” she cries to the darkness. “I'm sorry.” For what she doesn’t know. How can you pinpoint one sin in a sea of evil? It takes her some time before she begins to realize a change in her surroundings. Through her blurry eyes, she looks around, realizing that the ground bellow has changed. The blood flows around her in a mixture of water and tears. Surprised, she looks up. There before her, flowing from the new gash in the man’s body runs a river of water. It flows around her, washing away the blood. Is this normal, she wonders. She has never seen the bodies after they are taken. But something inside her tells her it's not. Something tells her that this was especial made just for her. She can only stare in awe as it cleans away everything. Joy fills her and she throws herself into the river, watching amazed as her cloths are cleaned.

She doesn’t know how long she lays there or when she is finally clean but eventually she sits up, water dripping from her hair. How long has it been that color, was it always that way and when did she forget the true hue of her skin?

She does not register the sound of footsteps until they are mere inches from her. She looks up shocked and slightly scared, afraid that her captor has come for her but she is surprised to see a stranger before her. His white cloths are almost blinding and she wonders absently how he keeps them that way. The man’s presence is both comforting and frightening.

“What do you want?” She asks. He stares at her for a while, smiling as if he considers her question amusing. His gaze is disconcerting and she can’t help but shake before him.

“Do not be afraid,” he says, his voice is like the booming of thunder, she decides, but it is not frightening. She asks him again his purpose and he smiles gently at her, gesturing to the man. She looks over surprised, having forgot for a moment about the body beside her. As she stares at it, she find that she is no longer afraid of it.

“Why?” it seems like a good question, though she feels silly asking it.

“It’s time for him to go home.” The answer makes sense to her, though she knows it shouldn’t. She nods to him in understanding and he gives her a hand. She does not hesitate or shrink away from it like she would have before and together he helps her up. They walk to the man each one on their own side and gently grab him. She helps the man take the body, laying it in his arms. After he is situated, the man turns to leave.

“Where will you take him?” she asks, stopping him as he is about to pass through the threshold. The man turns to her and gives her a gentle smile.

“To freedom,” he says simply. He turns to leave again

“Wait!” she shouts and he stops again. As he watches her carefully she feels nerves take over. Timidly, she steps forward. “May I come as well. I'm lost and do not know the way.” It is silent for a moment, than the sound of ringing bells fills the air. She soon realizes that it comes from the man, he is laughing. She feels shame take over and tries to hide the tears in her eyes.

“Little one,” the man says finally, his voice soft. She feels a hand on her chin. She never realized that he had moved but there he was in front of her. “Do not cry or fret. I laugh because I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” she asks softly.

“There is no need to ask. The door is always open for those who knock, who seek.”  

“But sir,” she says, confused. “I could never find the way.” The man smiles gently down at her.

“That is why I sent him.” She looks to the body in the man’s arms. It makes since then and she looks to the man, smiling back. He gently holds out his hand for her to take, carefully balancing the body in his arms. She takes it gratefully and follows him as she leads her through the door.

Freedom was different then she remembers but so much better then she knows it once was.

.