I Forgive You

• Chloe Roche, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

“Three.”
The crowd were ravenous beasts as they hungered for entertainment.
“Two.”
I stood there like an animal on the road staring into headlights.
“One.”
My opponent’s eyes void of mercy; brimmed with determination.
“Begin.”
The man in front of me lunged forwards. He clutched his weapon until his knuckles turned to a ghostly white. He swung his sword, it was covered in dried blood.

CLUNG
My weapon, a metal pole, about a meter long, blocked the heavy sword the man held in his hands.
“Die ye bloody bastard,” he sneered as he was readying for another attack. I blocked again. This repeating again and again and again.
“Why can’t you just die?!” anger dripping from his words. The weapon lashed all around recklessly, intoxicated with rage.
“I’ve been in this bloody death arena for 5 years,” he spat with fury in his eyes. “You won’t ever know street scum, you were just found begging on a curb.” He was right before this I was on the streets getting any jobs I could come by. I made around two dollars a day. Until one day I saw a freshly made bread on the bakers table, I couldn’t help myself. It was so crispy. So warm and fresh. I took it, and if any crime is committed no matter the severity, you are sent to the Colosseum for a certain amount of years.
“But once I kill you…” insanity started flowing in the concoction of anger “I will be set free from this damn hell,” swinging with the might of 10 men, he had me in his clutches. Pain, pain in my right shoulder. Crimson staining my street rags. Crimson on his weapon. Crimson dripping on the already bloody floor, drip, drip, drip. The crowd roared with excitement as I roared as well, but mine was full of pain.

I can’t give up.

I can’t give up.

Reaching for my bloody weapon, I sloppily whirled it towards him, but he blocked with ease.
“Thank you friend, sorry for this inconvenience” he giggled out in a sinister way. The crowd was going crazy but I couldn’t hear them over my fear. Hands covered in sweat and blood holding onto my weapon. He retracted his sword, plunging it deep into my chest. The scarlet red blood everywhere. A metallic scent filling my nose. Now the liquid poured out in a steady stream. My vision starting to die. Coughing blood out from my mouth I managed to say my final words.

“I forgive you.”

I dropped the pole as it sent a clanging noise through the Colosseum. My knees gave way as I fell to the ground. He started shaking. His pupils shrunk, no longer full of insanity and anger, but full and overflowing with sadness. The man walked away with his prize, his freedom. But I will forever be trapped in this cage, never able to taste freedom on my tongue. Then I waited for death to take me into a calm embrace.