Only One Winner

I was tired of the games. There was no other option. I had to shoot him. It would be hard, but I had to.

Being scared has always been a habit of mine. It isn’t hard for my hands to become sweaty and the hairs on my neck to stand straight. 

But today, I have a reason to be scared. My parents and sister are on their deathbeds. They are counting on me. Why shouldn’t I be scared? 

I ponder this while I wait in my cell, ready to be hoisted up onto the arena like an animal. 

I have a flashback of elementary school, learning about the ancient gladiators in Rome—who used to fight in an arena. But they fought for prizes, not for the death or survival of their families. 

And then it comes—the grinding of the pulleys—and I’m now on the battle floor. 

For a brief second, I’m blinded by the number of screens and lights around me. I blink rapidly, and slowly my eyes adjust, and I take in my surroundings, in awe. I’m surrounded by hundreds of thousands of spectators, who are all cheering, stomping their feet, and waving flags. It’s a kaleidoscope of colors. They all cheer when my opponent rises to the battle floor. Their roar echoes throughout the stadiums, deafening. 

I turn around and gulp. Suddenly, this contest doesn’t feel like it’s a show. Right across from me, stands a boy the same age as me. He looks so innocent, and I just can’t bring myself to think about killing him. It’s too hard of a decision. 

And then the announcer’s voice booms throughout the stadium. 

“Welcome to the... 148th battle! Today, we have Aaron, competing for medicine for his almost—dead family, and Luke, competing for food!

I stare pitifully at Luke. Food. I feel so bad for his family. 

I stare at him for some time, hoping to make peace, but he doesn’t make eye contact. He instead stares straight down, as if he can see through the floor. 

Whether or not we become friends, I know one thing: I have to win this, no matter what.

The announcer makes some other deafening announcements, and I patiently wait, thinking about my strategy. I’m nimble and quick, but I would lose in close quarters. Luke’s wide frame would lead him to the win. I need to hide in my surroundings and get Luke when he least expects it. 

A rough hand then grazes mine, and I look up. One of the soldiers hands me a Pointer. I hoist it up into my arms and point it towards Luke, practicing. 

It feels so heavy. Why does a simple laser have to be so heavy? All I have to do is point it at Luke.

I take a moment to apprehend the stakes. All I have to do is kill Luke. 

“Ok, fighters. On your mark, get set, go!”

I’m startled by the air horns. How did the game start so suddenly?

I only get a brief glimpse of Luke before he’s gone, sinking into the floor. Walls spring up around me too, and I’m standing at a crossroads of a maze. Interesting. The setting is always different for the battle. Sometimes it's a simulated city, a forest, or something else. But a maze is interesting.

The spectators’ voices sound muffled, and that helps me focus. I first try to analyze my position. I can see down the maze’s pathways, and there are more branching off. The maze’s walls and the roof is a shade of green, and are made up of foliage—way too hard to break through. 

There’s no point in trying to remember where I started. So I set off, choosing one of the corridors at random. 

I take turns randomly, and come nowhere near to Luke. I hear the faint murmuring sometimes, but he’s nowhere to be found. I wander aimlessly throughout the maze, probably going through the same corridors multiple times. 

This gives me time to contemplate on what I should do. Winning is my only option, and I have to win at no costs—even if it means killing someone battling for the same stakes.

With these thoughts in my head, I search—until I finally find him.

I flatten myself up against the wall and poke my head around the corner. And there is Luke, dragging his feet across the floor. He’s moving awfully slow. 

I could shoot him right here, and I would go home with my medicine. After all, my family is more important than a stranger. 

But something makes me stop, right before I hoist up my Pointer. 

I then round the corner, directly in Luke’s path. He doesn’t even lift his gaze. 

I look at his eyes, which are bloodshot and sunken. Upon looking closer, I can see the bones forcing their way through his skin. 

I stand right in front of him, and he just collapses in my arms. I turn him over and stare into his eyes, which are completely red. 

“Hi there.”

He looks at me and smiles. 

“Hi," he says rasps feebly. "I feel horrible.”

“Same here. You looked pretty healthy on the stage, though.”

“Yeah, that was some government drug.”

He speaks with an accent. Probably from the northern provinces. 

I lift his arms over my shoulders and start walking, with no plan in mind. After some time, he musters some strength and starts walking. While we walk in silence, the same thought echoes through my head: should I kill him, or let him kill me? But I have a family at home. They need the medicine badly. It's a matter between life and death. And I can't allow anything to get between me and my goal.

We talk for a few minutes, and I get to know him. But I try to limit our conversation. The more I know about him, the harder it’s going to be to kill him. It will become a personal matter.

His Pointer is slung over his other shoulder, and he shows no signs of attempting to shoot me. That makes me feel even more guilty. 

After some time, we break apart and sit to get some rest. 

None of us raises the question, but it’s probably in his mind too. What do we do now?

I was tired of the games. There was no other option. I had to shoot him. It would be hard, but I had to.

It had to be done. So I get up and pace around. Luke doesn’t even look up, and that takes my guiltiness to another level. He trusts me so much. 

I move my hand toward the trigger of my gun and hoist it on my shoulder. 

“Hey, Luke?”

“Yes?” He looks at me, and I almost put the gun down. His eyes are filled with so much agony and sorrow. Surely there must be a way for us to get out without one of us dying. But the government wouldn’t allow that. One of us has to die.

“I’m sorry.” 

And then I pull the trigger. 

There can only be one winner.