Weapon of Choice

"The arena gates will be opening soon..." my handler says, "Have you decided on your weapon?"

I look down. I can't meet his eyes. The sadness and self-loathing descend on me like a thick fog.

"My depression," I reply quietly.

What else do I need?

"A bold choice," comments my handler.

I thought about telling him that it's not really a choice at all but I don't deserve the safety of any excuse.

The arena gates open and I ignore the whispered wishes from my handlers. 

Why did I have to be depressed today? 

I stepped into the arena. The crowds were cheering loud until then and the silence that fell upon seeing me was telling.

I looked down refusing to look at anyone else.

Why did everyone hate me so? I deserved it for being such a monster but still, I wished there was someone who loved me.

My opponent this time is a young female with lithe muscles and beautiful burgundy eyes. There is a fire in her eyes that says that she had fought tooth and nail to make it this far. There is a hardness to her gaze that says she has seen death and she is prepared to end me today.

I feel sad for her because she didn't deserve what was coming to her.

Why couldn't I be happier today? Why couldn't I be angrier? Why did my choice of emotion become 'depression'? 

Why couldn't I just die?

She didn't deserve this; I think again as she widens her stance and extends her palms outward.

Fire descends from up above and engulfs her and then settles around her like an armor.

Ah, a pyrokinetic... I haven't seen one of them in years since there are only a few left... And now there will be one less.

I feel like crying because here I am, helping in the extinction of one more race.

The fire in her eyes is literal now. She moves her feet and starts sprinting towards me.

As she gets closer, I understand that she doesn't know who I am.

Poor girl, they should have told her. At least she would have stood a chance then. She could've killed me then... That would have been better for everyone.

She looks surprised by my lack of resistance as she draws closer. I hunch my shoulders and let my tears fall.

No, I didn't even deserve the comfort of tears.

She doesn't stop, thinking that I am tricking her.

I am genuinely depressed; I want to tell her but what good will that do? Her fate's been already decided.

A flaming hand strikes out against my chest and I just stand there and take it. My flesh burns and the pains are amplified because I am depressed but I deserve the pain so I just take it.

She staggers back from me. Her fire is gone now and her burgundy eyes are wet with tears.

She stumbles in shock and sadness and then she's sobbing. I cry with her.

She sobs and wails and her fire returns. She's shaking and I wish to comfort her but I am not even good enough for that. I wish again that I wasn't depressed today.

She cries like her life has lost its meaning and I can only watch sadly as she conjures her fire and burns her own heart.

The crowd cheers and my handlers are there. They keep a safe distance of four meters and are motioning me to go.

I weep for the girl and go back to my white room.

The girl with burgundy eyes is gone and I didn't even know her name... What a monster I am? 

Tomorrow I think I will be happy. Then my opponent will laugh and laugh and laugh until their hearts will give out. Then the day after, I will be angry and my opponents will lose all sense of strategy or plan and I will be angry enough to tear them apart. The day after that I will be afraid and my opponents will cover in fear and end their own lives to escape the oppressing fear.

The crowd watches it all from behind the glass walls that protect them from my emotions.

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Written for this prompt https://www.instagram.com/p/B_ITROVHBZh/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet  on Instagram.

Prompt:

"The arena gates will be opening soon Have you decided on your weapon?"

"My depression."

"A bold choice."