Chapter 36: Ovary Crushing Counterattack
The sickening crunch echoed louder than the crowd’s roar. Violet’s head snapped back, a crimson geyser erupting from her flattened nose. Blood painted her chin, her neck, the tattered purple silk still wrapped tight below her ruined throat. Her eyes, wide with shock and blinding pain, lost focus for a split second.
Inside Ingrid’s ravaged core, Violet’s buried fist clenched violently. It wasn’t a deliberate squeeze, but a raw, involuntary spasm triggered by the skull-jarring impact. The knuckles ground deep, a fresh wave of nauseating agony radiating outwards from Ingrid’s pelvis, threatening to buckle her knees. She felt the hard, rounded pressure intensify against the thin, bruised wall of her uterus – Violet’s fingers instinctively seeking purchase, digging against the vulnerable organ trapped within.
Ingrid didn’t scream. She snarled. A guttural, animal sound ripped from her throat, thick with blood and fury. Her steely blue eyes, narrowed to slits, locked onto Violet’s dazed green ones mere inches away. Sweat and blood slicked both their faces. Ingrid’s forehead throbbed where it had connected, a dull counterpoint to the searing violation deep within her.
"Feel that?" Ingrid hissed, her voice shredded gravel. She leaned her weight forward, pressing her forehead harder against Violet’s ruined nose, grinding broken cartilage. Violet whimpered, a wet, choked sound muffled by the sash and her own blood. Her fingers inside Ingrid spasmed again. "That’s MY egg, bitch." Each word was punctuated by a sharp, painful intake of breath. "My body. My rules."
Violet’s eyes flickered with returning malice through the haze of pain. Her lips, slick with blood, twisted into a grotesque approximation of a smile. She tried to speak, but only managed a wet gurgle past the sash and her broken nose. Her trapped fist shifted, fingers deliberately probing, seeking that firm, rounded shape again. Her intent was clear, even if her voice failed.
Ingrid saw the renewed purpose in her eyes. Time stopped. The roar of the crowd faded to a dull thrumming in her ears. All that existed was the crushing pressure inside her, Violet’s hate-filled gaze, and the sodden silk sash still clenched in Ingrid’s left fist. Scarlett’s voice, cool and sharp as a scalpel, cut through the agony: End it. Now.
With a surge of adrenaline that burned through the pain like wildfire, Ingrid acted. Her left arm, trembling but fueled by pure survival instinct, whipped upwards and outwards. She didn’t pull the sash tighter around Violet’s neck – she yanked it sideways with every ounce of strength left in her shattered frame.
The thick, blood-soaked silk sawed viciously across the gaping wound on Violet’s neck. It wasn't a choke; it was a brutal, lateral slice.
Violet’s body arched violently. A horrific, wet tearing sound, like rending fabric, cut through the arena’s noise. Her eyes bulged, wide with unimaginable agony and sudden, terrifying comprehension. Her trapped fist jerked wildly inside Ingrid one final time, a death throe convulsion, before going utterly slack.
The fountain of blood that erupted wasn't a spray. It was an arterial gush, a pulsing crimson curtain that soaked Ingrid’s face, her chest, the canvas beneath them. Violet’s mouth gaped soundlessly, her body shuddering uncontrollably as her life pumped out onto the mat. The pressure deep inside Ingrid vanished as Violet’s arm went limp, the fist sliding free with a sickening, wet slurp.
Violet collapsed forward, her weight suddenly dead against Ingrid. Her head lolled, her eyes staring sightlessly past Ingrid’s shoulder, fixed on some distant horror only she could see in her final moments. The blood flow slowed to a thick ooze, pooling darkly around her ruined throat and staining the purple silk a deeper, almost black, crimson.
Ingrid staggered back, Violet’s dead weight pulling her off balance. She stumbled, catching herself against the cold steel cage wall. The sudden absence of Violet’s invasive fist left a horrifying void, a raw, gaping chasm of pain radiating from her core. Warmth, thick and alarming, trickled freely down her inner thighs. She looked down. Violet lay crumpled, a broken doll in a grotesque puddle of her own making. The beaded flip-flop on one foot had come loose, revealing pale, scarred toes.
Silence crashed down. The crowd’s bloodlust had been momentarily stunned into awed quiet by the sheer brutality of the finish. Then, like a dam breaking, the roar returned, louder, more frenzied than before. Chants of "Iron Maiden!" began to pulse through the smoky air.
Ingrid pushed herself upright, swaying. Every breath was a knife twisting in her abdomen. Her right hand hung useless, shattered. Blood dripped from her chin, her brow, mingling with sweat. She looked down at her own body. The black leather corset was slicked red-black, plastered to her skin. The skimpy red shorts were saturated, clinging obscenely. Her gladiator sandals, the metal studs gleaming dully under the harsh lights, were coated in gore up to the straps winding her calves.
She lifted her gaze from Violet’s corpse, scanning the roaring, faceless mob. Her vision blurred at the edges. The pain was a living thing now, gnawing at her core, throbbing in her hand, pounding in her skull. The victory felt hollow, distant, buried under layers of agony and the visceral horror of what Violet had done, what Ingrid had done to stop her.
A figure moved at ringside. Scarlett. Her manager’s face was unreadable, a mask of cool assessment. She gave a single, sharp nod. Approval. The transaction was complete.
Ingrid took a shaky step towards the cage door, her silver-heeled sandal squelching in the blood-soaked canvas. She needed out. Needed air. Needed… something to stop the warm, insistent trickle between her legs and the terrifying emptiness where vital things should be whole. The roar of the crowd washed over her, meaningless noise against the deafening silence inside her own broken body. She kept walking, one agonizing step after another, leaving the nightmare behind her on the canvas, knowing it would follow her long after the cage door clanged shut.