“I want to fight,” I said. I ignored the furious looks directed at me for having busted into the Arena’s inner sanctum. I zeroed in on my master, Jordan. “I want to be a Warrior.”

One of the other masters snorted and said, “You? You’re barely five feet and skinny as a rail. A match against you wouldn’t be even remotely entertaining.”

“It’s risky for a young girl like you to go against our seasoned warriors,” another master said, kindly. Or he tried to anyway.

I straightened my back and answered, “I’d rather take my chances in the arena.” I returned my gaze to Jordan. “I want to fight.”

Even though I said the words as vehemently as I could, a sliver of fear slipped through me. I didn’t truly want to fight. I wanted my parents and sister, my family. I wanted my old life back. But I couldn’t have that and I was no longer safe being the obscure slave girl. I had to fight.

“Granted,” Jordan suddenly said. The room was quiet immediately. He straightened in his chair and added, “Your training starts in the morning.”

Seven years later…

I unsheathed my swords and allowed their tips to lightly touch the ground. I breathed in. Then released the breath. The match started.

I lunged at my opponent. He stumbled backwards before recovering and attempting to hit me with his mace. I parried the clumsy blow and swung one of my swords at him. The guy managed to dodge it, barely as I still sliced through his arm.

I dodged his next attack, ducking beneath his arm and behind him. Before he could turn to face me, I plunged one of my swords into the back of his shoulder. Blood spurted as I watched my blade sink into the young man. I ferociously shut down the voice of horror. By now I was used to it.

The match was over in seconds. One of my best as I was now the top warrior in the Arena. I watched as two others roughly dragged the guy out of the open arena. The spectators began cheering.

I couldn’t focus on them anymore. Their praise had become empty over the years as I watched my opponents die. Granted, I never dealt the death blow. But I may as well have for how severely they were punished by their masters.

I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to leave, even if the attempt killed me. I needed out. The roaring applause grew louder. I blinked and felt a tear trail down my face, reflecting my untold story, the one I could never tell.