Jonas' expression went dark as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. The visual of the two was like a dark comedy because of their height differences. Jonas felt bitter as he reminisced about the time he had stepped into the fight pit with Garth and wondered if he looked just as small and hopeless as Theo.
“Jonas,” Johnson rounded on him, and his eyes were furious. “You can’t trust that big fuck. He’s going to kill the poor kid.”
“What can he do?” Simon interrupted, and the tone of his voice was rather unpleasant. It was surprising to Johnson because his dear friend rarely got so upset. “I don’t believe for a moment that Garth won’t rat us out, and do you want to lose everything we have by getting sold to another gang where you’ll be all alone? I know I don’t," Simon shook his head and exhaled a sigh of defeat.
“What’s the fucking point of all this power?” Johnson wasn’t going down without a fight because he felt terrible, and controlling his emotions became progressively more difficult. “Didn’t you and me put our lives at risk? Didn’t we train our asses off so that we could fight back?”
“Enough,” Ahmed whispered with a harsh hiss. “You don't have to like it, but we all must sacrifice for the greater good.”
“The greater good?” Johnson rolled his eyes and didn’t care that he was mouthing off to Ahmed. “Fuck the greater good. We should just jump Garth here and now.”
“If you can’t stomach the sight of a man sacrificing himself for his friends,” Ahmed gave him a dull expression. “You should probably just roll back to your cage,” Johnson immediately went quiet, but his eyes were still angry and defiant.
“You better keep your word,” Theo was breathing heavily; however, he had yet to fight. “You have to keep your mouth shut about everything.”
“I’m always a man of my word,” Garth gave one last smile before he took a step towards Theo. “I hope you make it worth my while.”
The young slave raised his skinny fists to his face, and the spectating fighters wore ugly expressions because Theo's stance was too awkward and stiff, and it was clear he had never fought before. Jonas and Theo made eye contact for one final time, and the young paperboy tried to give a smile, but it was a difficult task considering his teeth were chattering from anxiety.
“Fight!” Garth barked and launched forward at Theo, who found his nerve and dived out of the way. He rolled through the sand and awkwardly climbed to his feet while anxiously turning his head to search for his assailant. “Good dodge!” The big man laughed as he ran and tried to kick Theo like a soccer ball, but Theo rolled out of the way and began backstepping around the sandpit, trying to avoid the attacks.
“He’s just playing with him,” Johnson spat and wore a bitter expression. “Garth loves giving his prey false hope.”
“No shit,” Pete’s one good eye was swiveling around, carefully watching Theo, who was still running in a circle like his life depended on it, dodging various attacks at the last moment. Each hit had enough power to finish the fight quickly, but they just seemed to miss their target at the perfect time.
Garth stopped and panted heavily. “You’re a fast bugger! Better be careful because I’m just warming up.”
Theo was so out of breath it looked like he had run a marathon, as sweat poured down his face, and his legs moved sluggishly because of how heavy they felt.
Garth took a stance and pressed his weight into the sand, then readied himself for another attack and made to charge. Theo recognized the attack, so he prepared to dodge the same way he had done earlier; however, Garth's face tightened with a cruel smile, and his foot shot out like a cannon.
“Dodge it!” Johnson shouted, and for a moment, it looked like Theo might've had enough time to leap out of harm’s way, but instead, he just stared at the kick as it came toward him. He felt a brief moment of panic as his legs wouldn’t respond to his commands, and then he felt an explosive force hit his sternum, which blasted his body backward.
Theo's back slammed against the edge of the fight pit, and he gasped for air as the force knocked the wind out of him. His head hit the floor, and he began choking because he accidentally swallowed a mouthful of sand.
Garth ran forward with careful tiny steps like a ballerina, and he jumped into the air and brought his massive figure crashing down on Theo's spine. A terrible scream echoed across the walls of the fight arena as Theo felt the back of his ribs crack.
“Oh, Little Rabbit,” said Garth while standing on Theo. “You must be starving if you tried eating sand. Let me feed you,” and he used his black boot to push down on Theo's head, forcing his face into the sand and suffocating him.
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Jonas clenched his knuckles tightly, and his Sin Scars were experiencing a wide range of technical difficulties, as they sometimes glowed brightly and other times went dull.
Theo's hands were also experiencing trouble as they clawed at the boot on his head, trying to pry it off so that he could breathe, and his legs violently twisted around the floor, forming imprints like snow angels dying in the sand.
“Opse,” said Garth after he noticed the limbs growing more frantic. “I forgot you needed to breathe,” and he stepped off Theo, who immediately tried to gasp for air, but it was a struggle because of all the blood, sand, and vomit stuck in the back of his throat. “Disgusting,” Garth grimaced as he watched a thick bile leak out of Theo's mouth.
It took a moment for the young paperboy to get it all out, and then he shot his assailant with a furious, tear-filled expression.
“Don’t cry, love,” Garth gave a gentle smile. “I didn’t mean to take it so far,” and Theo let out a groan of pain as he tried to roll over but was unable to because of his broken ribs. “You want up? Let me help you,” and he bent down and used two massive hands to grab Theo's ribs, squeezed hard, and pulled him to his feet. The battered slave screamed in pain, and when Garth released him, Theo immediately tried to back away but fell on his ass because he couldn’t feel his legs.
“And I just took the time to help you,” Garth clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “If you want to lay down that badly, I guess you could help me with my ground-and-pound technique.”
“Enough,” said Jonas through gritted teeth. “He’s done.”
“Done?” Garth turned his head and stared innocently into Jonas’ angry eyes. “I barely broke a sweat. Pretty, you should know how much I look forward to these sparring sessions.”
“I said enough!” Jonas’ voice cracked as he tried his hardest not to become overcome by rage—it was a difficult task.
“Well,” said Garth. “I can cut the sparring session short, but I don’t think Howard will be happy that I’ve been slacking on my training. I’ll have to confess to him, as you know I can’t hide things from my owner,” and the veiled threat in those words brought an angry lump in Jonas’ throat.
“I’m good,” Theo croaked: his throat was raw from the sand, bile, and screaming. “I can keep going,” he tried to smile at Jonas, but instead, he vomited all over his chest.
“See!” Garth pointed happily at Theo. “You think a little lovin' and some sand can bring a man like that down?” He laughed heartily. “If he wants to continue the spar, you should just respect his wishes.”
“He’s just toying with you, Jonas,” Ahmed whispered. “He won’t kill Theo.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because Garth knows that me, you, and everyone else will jump him right here and now. That man just wants to screw with people. He doesn’t care about anything other than creating fear, confusion, and chaos.”
“Wrap it up,” said Jonas, and the meaning behind his words was clear to Garth, who smiled happily.
“No problem, no problem,” Garth stepped over Theo's body and slowly lowered himself to his knees until he was straddling his fallen foe. Theo breathed heavily as his watery eyes looked up and saw a psychopathic smile, and he felt dread fill his heart as Garth pinned Theo's arms beneath his knees. “Some fighters prefer to go for submissions when their opponent is on the ground. Some fighters prefer to wait for their opponent to get up. I prefer to get on top and give them a beat down they will never forget,” Garth punched downward and hit Theo on the nose. He gave a childish laugh of giddiness as he felt the bone break and blood splatter his fist.
Theo cried out in pain, but his voice went quiet because Garth punched him in the jaw: dislocating it and forcing the paperboy to make blood-curdling moans that sounded like a tortured animal.
“See what I mean?” Garth made it sound like he was just teaching a lesson and not violently assaulting an innocent person. “Once you take a dominant position, you could do anything to your opponent. Hey, why aren’t you talking?”
Theo was only half-conscious, and as much as he wanted to black out and fall asleep, it seemed like the adrenaline pumping through his blood wouldn’t let him take the easy way out.
“If you want me to stop, just say, ‘please stop, Garth,’ and I’ll stop,” but even if Theo wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs: between his dislocated jaw and the blood constantly building at the back of his reddened throat, he was unable to make sounds other than a dreadful moan. “No?” Garth gave Jonas a confused look. “Okay, just a bit more,” Once again, his fists began to pound flesh and bone as if he was trying to prepare Theo's head for a gourmet meal.
Theo's face split at the seam while blood poured from his torn skin. His eyes swelled shut, and his lips bloomed like red roses as they exploded from the impact.
“Stop!” Jonas shouted. “Garth, fucking stop!” It was like PTSD because the scene had become too familiar for Jonas, who felt like it was him underneath the massive fighter—there was a suffocating feeling in his chest.
It was like being sucked into a flashback of horror. Jonas could see himself in Theo, and this empathy forced him to recall all the times he had been beaten and brutalized by giant sadists. The suffocation turned to fear, which soon turned to a feeling of claustrophobia. Jonas tried to move but couldn't. His legs refused to listen, and it was as if someone heavy was holding him down.
"Stop! Garth, I said, stop! FUCKING STOP!"
Garth wore a terrifying smile on his face while he punched Theo repeatedly. Finally, he snapped out of his daze long enough to look over to see why Jonas was screaming his head off.
“Pretty, why are you screaming yourself hoarse? Does this remind you of something?" He grinned broadly. "Theo can stop me at any time, can't he?” Garth looked down at his opponent. “Hey, do you want me to stop?” but Theo had finally fallen unconscious and could no longer answer. “Hey!” Garth slapped the paperboy's bloody face a few times. “I think he went to sleep. Very rude.”
“Garth, I swear to God if you hit him one more time—” but Jonas’ threat was interrupted by Garth, who had risen to his feet.
“Relax,” said Garth. “I’m feeling full now,” and he stared down at Theo's mangled face, which bled everywhere. “If he wakes up. Tell him I said thanks for the spar.”