Torn // Poe Dameron

24. Beast

They threw us back into our cell after informing me about his plans.

"A fight. I haven't seen a good, bloody, fight in a while. If she is a jedi, she will tackle whatever beast we put her up against or she dies. We'll have a great show either way."

If I want to survive and win against whatever creature I will be fighting, I will have to use the force or some weapon. But then I'll reveal who I truly am and might have to stay here and serve him for the rest of my life.

But dying is not an option. Not until I know if Poe is alive or not. Not until I get to see him again, lie in his arms one more time.

On the other hand, the fight might be the perfect opportunity to escape. Kill the beast and escape. But without anyone being able to catch me, track me down, take me back. And then there is Wafia, who got pulled into this situation as well, ought to fight next to me, as a punishment for whatever she did while I was spiraling in the middle of the room. I won't be fighting only for me, I'll have to fight for her as well. I promised myself I wouldn't leave without her.

Not knowing the arenas architecture perplexes the situation but doesnt hinder my mind in trailing of into deep, complex plans on how to escape.

There is only one thing I need. My lightsabre. Feeling the cold hilt in the palm of my hand fills me with power and confidence. Additionally, I am lethal with the white saber in my hands and I need that. I'm in desperate need for confidence and power to flow through me.

From the corner of my eye I get a glimpse of Wafia, lips trembling, shoulders heaving with emotions.

As much as she tries to hold it in, the pain comes out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. The beads of water start falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. The muffled sobs wracked against her chest. It's my fault.

Hearing her desperate sobs, my heart aches. And with every tear that falls from the face of a woman I barely know, but whose destiny I share, the urge for revenge inside me grows stronger and stronger.

A man like Ikro doesn't care. He doesn't care if she cries, if she dies, it doesn't matter to him, nor to his friends, nor to the man with the chain.

How could I not hate a being that makes other people feel like this?

"I'm sorry" I speak up. My voice is stern but not cold "I'm sorry that I pulled you into this."
Wafia shakes her head in response, "You saved me" she tries to be polite, grateful even but I know that she is afraid of the fight, of dying and she knows that it's my fault.

Anxiously awaiting the next day to come.

And eventually it does. One look at the Togruta woman next to me and I can tell that her night was restless. Compared to the exhausted bags under her red, puffy eyes and her slouched shoulders I am wide awake, all nerves on edge, all thoughts in high definition.

They replace my force-restraining cuffs with normal ones, after all my powers are part of the show they are expecting.

My nerves are frayed to the quick. In my building anxiety I constructed elaborate rationalizations for why everything will turn out alright, but still the nagging voice in the back of my mind speaks of nothing but doom ahead.

We are pushed down corridors, steps, walk through doors and more doors. I feel like I'm walking closer to my execution and surely Wafia feels the same.

The guilt sits not on my chest but inside my brain. What I had done I could not un-do. But I can make it up to her, save her life and give her freedom. But I need to concentrate, after all I will be fighting against a horrendous beast as well as all the picadors and guards on our way to escape.

I close my eyes, take in a deep breath. But time doesn't stop when you close your eyes. My lids flutter open again and I take in the rays of the shabby headlights.

We stop in front of a giant metal door, we must have walked to the lowest floor in the hive and the furthest sector.

Next to the door are two guards, which I guess are to be found at each door. Alright. The door slides up and Rennek pushes Wafia and me inside, "Let the executions begin",
exposing us to the booming sounds of the arena. The door falls to the ground again and we're trapped.

The center of the arena is a flat, circular, sand floor, nothing more. But the 100.000 spectators screaming and howling at the excitement of seeing us die, characterises the plain space with such tension and danger.

Along the base of the inside of the structure are gates that sure enough will open to release vicious creatures, eager to tear us limb from limb.

Between the closed gates and the picadors, --orray-mounted Genosians with stun poles-- there is no way I'm getting out of here. There is no possibility to flee, the realisation drops into my stomach like a stone.

The audience cheers wildly, even though they have no idea who we are, other than being slaves. The disgustingly skimpy clothing we wear adds more layers of shame on my skin.

Next, attention turns to the other lift that opens, across the arena.
What steps out into the arena sends cold shivers of fear--or adrenaline-- I'm not sure which-- through my veins.

Whatever floods my system makes my heart pump and beat like it’s trying to escape. If there was any fear inside of me, a hot wave of confidence washes it away, leaving only determination, adrenaline and anger at the shore of my soul.

I'm good, I am, I feel it in my bones that I've got more than it takes to make it. If I had my saber this would be over in the blink of an eye.

The beast steps into the arena and I see her fear has turned Wafia into a statue.

Not that I blame her at the sight of it, rough, brown skin, glistening, red eyes, thin arms, large, hooked claws, spiked carapace. It's snout rips open, revealing sharp teeth, releasing a low but immense roar before it starts charging at us.

With every second that passes, every meter it advances, it grows into a creature, more than double my size.

"Run away" I scream at Wafia, hoping to tear her out of her crippling fear.

The sprawling posture and immense weight makes the creature relatively slow-moving, but still fast enough to catch a human. After its teeth, eerily incandescent, as sharp as a fine diamond sword, the strong arms and paws will be the biggest issue to face.

It advances further and further, pounding the dust. Another savage growl sends Wafia running to the wall, seeking safety in the cold metal as if she could melt into it and disappear.

I step into its line of vision and draw his aggression to me before I start running closer to the walls of the arena. The beast gets so close that I can hear the heavy paws crash on the damp ground.

I stop in my tracks, sliding over the sand a bit --stars, I hate sand-- and extend my still cuffed hands to send the beast flying into the wall with the force.

It shrieks under the impact but only seconds after hitting the wall it's back on its feet. I seem to have angered it but no hurt in the least. Great.

Once again my arms stretch out in front of me, gripping the beasts body, paralysing it mid-air. Astonished gasps along with excited cheers and disappointed grunts fills the air. I must have faded out all noises but now they come crashing back at me.

The extend of force I have to apply to the heavy monster is exhausting but it feels good to have my powers back.

Slowly, my fingers clench into a fist crumbling the beast into a ball of shrieks and winces. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes, a cold breeze fills the air and screams erupt as the sky turns black.