Victimised

Excellence Award in the 'The Write Track 2015' competition

The warehouse's stale air ruffles my coat as my owner carries me, inside a minute cage, down a flight of stairs. We come to a door at the bottom of the stairs, and Max, my owner, pulls the door open and steps inside, holding my cage's handle with a firm grip. The warehouse's basement's lustreless light barely manages to illuminate the throng of men crowded around a dilapidated pit. The men shouted and hollered like spectators at a sports game, waving green slips of paper around in their sweaty hands. I'd never liked those sports games. People were always fighting over a ball--why can't they just all get their own?

Max walked closer to the pit. I saw two dogs standing in the middle of the pit. They were biting and scratching each other. Spit flew, teeth gleamed, and one of the dogs began to howl in pain, barely noticeable against the cacophonous shouts of the spectators. The dog, a small Staffordshire Bull Terrier, howled and collapsed on the sandy floor of the pit. I saw the savage tears in the dog's coat and the copious amount of blood pouring from them. The other dog, the winner of the fight, stood triumphantly over the Staffordshire Bull Terrier; its eyes gleamed like diamonds in the subdued light. The Staffordshire Bull Terrier looked into my eyes, a silent plea of desperation before he let his head drop onto the coarse sand.

My name is Zeus; I'm a Pit Bull. I've been trained to fight other dogs since the very beginning. I still remember Admiral, the first dog I ever fought. Admiral was a bait dog--that means that Max bought him for me to practise against.

I liked Admiral, but I had no choice.

Now, standing in the pit, I think back to my years as a pup: all the years of training and hard work. Most of my dog friends said that Max was exploiting me, but there's nothing I can do about it. If I tried to get back at Max, he'd turn me into a bait dog quicker than you can say 'cheeseburger.'

In front of me stood my adversary: a hulking Pit Bull with a melancholy stare and vicious teeth. His name was Shredder--it was a very fitting name. A bell sounded and Shredder walked toward me, his teeth glinting like razor-sharp knives. He slammed into me, catching me when I wasn't focused. Pain washed through my side as I fell to the sand. I tried to snap at Shredder's legs, but he was much too quick. He bowled me over again and sank his gargantuan teeth into my ribs, forcing me to emit an ear-piercing howl. I knew that I wouldn't get back up. I saw Max in my peripheral vision. He was shaking his head.

And then I was no more.

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