“Go,Go,Go!” The crowd yells.

“You got this! Five more seconds!”

The bull throws me around a few more spins.

I hear the buzzer go off and get thrown back from the bull. The bull whips its head towards me and charges. I get my upper half out of the way as the bull runs over my legs and turns and steps on my side.

My first time in this arena and I get trampled.

“ A whopping 97.50 points out of 100 for Mr. Morgan!” The announcer says “ That score will be tough to beat!”

I get up slowly as the crowd yells. I wave at them when I get up. I take a step forward and cripple. The crowd gasps.

I dont realize my bandanna has shifted until it’s almost falling off.

My hair falling out of my hat.

I keep my head down.

The bull fighters run to me and lift me up. My eyes catch on something in the crowd. A box with the royal seal.

I don’t look at the people in the box.

I shrug them off and limp out of the arena.

I get to my room and lock the door.

My chaps coated in red dirt.

My bandanna that was covering my face is sprinkled with it.

My shirt torn.

I slowly shimmy out of my chaps and throw them on the floor. I roll my jeans up to my knees and find some blossoming bruises, but it’s chest that I’m worried about. I lay down and shut my eyes. I just showed weakness to not just a whole crowd but also royalty.

How did I get in this situation? A situation where I have to pretend to be a man just to get paid. Where I am beaten up by a thing that is better on a plate than in that arena.

How has my life come to this?

I lay on a scratchy cot and hope I can walk out of here just scratched and not completely broken.

—Morgan

The bull turns and runs horns forward at the man. The man turns so only his legs are in the way, but the bull tramples his legs and side.

Even the best get hurt.

He cripples as he gets up. I stand as he leaves the arena.

His leg is mangled. He needs help that won’t be given in this world without paying an arm and a leg.

Then as he turns his face I see it. Dark black hair cascading down from the hat. This isn’t a man.

“Come with me.” I say to my guard “ Take me to Mr Morgan’s quarter.”

He nods.

If this is a woman then these injuries could be worse than I thought.

Many women do this. They don’t get paid at other jobs so they pull jobs like this.

We race down stairs and stairs. We finally get to the quarter.

The doors locked.

I knock.

No answer.

Another.

No answer.

I grab a dagger from my pocket and break the lock.

“Hello?” I say as I enter.

I find a small body laying on the cot unmoving and slowly breathing. Chaps discarded along with the hat and bandanna.

The bruises on her mangled leg are worse than I thought.

Please let it not be to late.

Please.

—Alex

Pt 2?