Gladiators of Rome:Short Stories

V

V

The following day Frieda was pulled aside by the guards as she left the villa. Her heart began to beat faster, unsure of why they wished to speak with her, when they handed her a large chunk of bread which was still warm to the touch. Frieda's mouth started salivating the moment it touched her fingertips, the smell of it was intoxicating as she lifted it to her lips and took a large bite.

Moaning with pleasure as the food descended into her stomach, Frieda tried to cram as much of it into her mouth as she could, not thinking about why they had given it to her. Amara said they only gave food to those that fought, but Frieda had not fought with anyone; not caring at that moment, Frieda's jaw began to ache as chewed, forced to breathe through her nose from all the food in her mouth.

Turning a corner back to the cells, the path already ingrained into her mind that she could walk it blindfolded, Frieda felt a brief shift of wind across her arm before something heavy barrelled into the side of her, knocking her to the floor.

Exclaiming in shock as she hit the ground hard, her arms were thrown out above her head and the bread fell from her fingertips, rolling across the ground.

"No," Frieda gasped as she watched the bread in earnest roll further away when the heavy object on top of her began to scramble forward after it. Frieda saw a glimpse of the long knotted black hair of her attacker before their knee pressed into her shoulder blades, pressing her into the ground.

Shouting out in pain and frustration, Frieda reached out grabbed hold of their waist, pulling them back. That was her bread. Struggling to pull out of her grasp, the other woman turned over onto her back and glared down at Frieda. Frieda saw that she was of a similar age with a smooth jawline and large dark ebony eyes which seemed to shine her reflection straight back at her.

As she stared up at her, Frieda saw the corner of her lips tilt upwards in a smirk before she lifted her foot and booted Frieda in the mouth. As pain shot across her face, Frieda's head was knocked back and her arms reluctantly released the girl's waist. As the girl wiggled forward, hurrying after the bread, Frieda found herself running her tongue over her teeth to check that they were all still present.

Realising that she had not lost any teeth, Frieda looked up to see the girl picking up the large chunk of bread with a large, triumphant smile upon her lips. Something about that arrogant smile made Frieda do something she had promised she wouldn't. Angry, and grumbling to herself, Frieda pushed herself up and launched herself at the girl, wrapping her arms around her hips and knocking her to the ground.

The girl was shocked, if the expression etched across her face was anything to go by, as Frieda landed on top of her. Moving so that she straddled the girl's hips, Frieda tried to reach for the bread which was still in her grasp but the girl held it out of her way, her other hand pushing Frieda's face away from her.

Deep, insatiable hunger drove Frieda to near madness as she pulled the girl's hand off her face with one hand and curled her other into a tight fist. Raising her hand, Frieda remembered the way she had seen the other men do it, when she hesitated. Her arm shook from the tension of clamping her fist tightly, but she could not seem to get past the fear of the pain when she saw the girl beneath her relax a little when she saw that Frieda wasn't moving and began to laugh.

As her irritating laughter reached Frieda's ears, it made Frieda forget everything she was afraid of and hurl her fist down into the girl's face. It was soft at first but as she noticed that the pain wasn't too bad, and that it wiped the smile from the girl's face, her anger took over and her attacks became stronger, fiercer. Frieda was about to plant another punch into her jaw when the girl bucked her hips beneath her, dislodging Frieda and wedging a leg between them.