DATE: 23 November 2014
“Ma’am, you have to get moving...”
I felt my eyes blink once or twice, barely even registering that I’d been spoken to…or even knowing where I was. A cursory glance around didn’t reveal anything; granted, my vision was still blurry, and I felt like my head had been run over by a bus...I know the feeling well, unfortunately; it means I’d blacked out again. It’s how I always feel when I wake up from them; it doesn’t matter if it was a couple seconds or a couple hours, it was the same feeling. So when I came back to Earth for the first time in…well, who knows how long I...wasn’t exactly coherent...
“...Huh...?”
I could just feel the judgmental stare already; I didn’t need to see it to know it. “Another clueless bint, had one (or five) too many drinks and got dropped off somewhere public as a prank or...whatever. It was easier, sometimes, to let people think that, rather than try and explain what was going on...rather than tell them I don’t know where I’m at, how I got there, or how long I’ve been there, rather than tell them the truth…it was just easier to let them live in their assumptions.
But today...today was different. Not because I cared any more about what this random person thought, or because I was (as Lacey put it) “a growing brand” and should avoid doing anything to damage that...but because, as my vision cleared up, a my hands steadied and my head slowly stopped pulsing, I realised I knew...vaguely, at least, where I was at...
I was at a Rail Station...I’d not only travelled during a blackout, I’d made it across an ocean without even being aware of it...
I was in England.
“You’ve been sat there for almost an hour, ma’am, I need you to get going.”
“Where...where are we...?”
“Canterbury. West Station.”
I know I scared this poor man to death...I felt my eyes go wide, I felt my jaw go slack, and then my head snapped from left to right and back like I was in some terrible spy movie, making sure no one’s around before making “the exchange.” It was ridiculous, but...
Canterbury?
That...that’s impossible. I never go there...I haven’t since my eighteenth birthday...I was thrown out at seventeen, I went back for one night with an ex the night I turned eighteen to go to this pub with friends...made a proper arsehole out of myself that night, too. But I don’t go there...ever. It’s the one place in the world I told myself I’d never visit again, didn’t matter what the reason was...It’s been almost three years since that night...so why is this man telling me I’m there? Why is he telling me this is Canterbury West, there’s no...possible way. Even I made it across an ocean, if I made it through airport security, customs, and British Rail, I wouldn’t go to Canterbury.
And yet...even after three years of not seeing the place, even after all the travel I did recently, seeing what felt like every train station, airport, and underground stop in England...I could look around and know exactly where I was at. I knew the path to get back to my parents’ house...I knew the path to the shops, to everywhere in the town...even after I made a conscious effort to forget this place existed, to never see it again...there I was.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, turning to look up at the man standing in front of me...I wasn’t sure how long between him telling me where I was and when I finally spoke up, but he didn’t look pleased with the wait.
“Canterbury...no, that...that can’t be right, how did I even GET here?”
“Well, Miss...”
“Hm? Oh...um, Scott. M-Mia...”
“Well Ms. Scott, you came in on...
“Wait. Mia Scott...the preacher’s daughter?”
Fucking hell, of course.
I couldn’t fight the sigh. I should’ve known, as soon as he said it was Canterbury, that I’d get recognised sooner, rather than later. I should’ve known people would know my father before they knew me, even as I was getting my name out there more. Not that I’d been prepared to end up here, but it’s hardly a rare occurrence for me to be known through someone else; I could take “the preacher’s daughter” on to “Lacey Allen’s plaything” as titles I’d sooner sandpaper my fingernails off than ever hear again, bt it was also one that I knew was stuck.
I’d been “the preacher’s daughter” most of my life.
Unconsciously, I felt myself grind my teeth probably a second or two longer than a dentist would tell me it was healthy to do. With a glance up to the man again, I brushed the hair out of my eyes, trying to get a feel for if I should know who this person was...or if he just knew me as my father’s daughter.
In the midst of a panic attack...it at least gave me a goal.
“Oh...y-yeh, I...I guess so.”
“I haven’t seen you in years, Mia! I heard you moved to America...what are you doing back here?”
Ugh...Fuck. Me. Sideways. As if somehow ending up in Canterbury wasn’t bad enough, I had to bump into someone who knew who I was; even though I hate the nicknames, this was one of those moments that I was kind of glad I was just “the friend of a friend,” so to speak...I didn’t even try to hide that I was studying the man’s face, trying to put a name to it, but I was drawing a complete blank.
“I, umm...”
I just sorta...stared ahead, not so much AT him as in his direction, nervously shifting back and forth. Even being in Kent made me nervous, let alone Canterbury itself, and I’m sure if you googled “ball of nerves,” my face would be the first image you came across right now. But maybe...maybe, he could help me.
“I...honestly, I don’t know...I don’t even...know how I got here, I was in New Jersey, about to have a match, then...”
I was waiting for the sarcastic “you got here by train” comment; obviously, you don’t go from New Jersey to England any method but plane unless you’re a fucking lunatic, but my last memory before waki—well, before being woke up was a confrontation at the FGA show with Noelle Smith and Johnny Raike over (among other things) a stolen scarf...from there, it was all just...black.
That...that realisation triggered another bit of desperation in my head: where was my bag. I’m sure I startled just about everyone around when I jumped to my feet, started searching all around me for it...only to find that not only was it not under the bench I was sat on, it was nowhere in the station.
I started patting down my pockets to see what I even had with me; jacket, pants, everything I could store something in. Passport with a bank card tucked into it—okay, at least I had access to money, so I wasn’t just stranded here; phone, thank god I had that, although what could I say without looking like a complete moron? Then a rail ticket: London Victoria to Canterbury West, checked at 0723.
I grabbed my phone out of my coat pocket, tapping at awake and just blankly staring at it. 1621 GMT would make it, what...1121 on the East Coast? I didn’t really want to worry anyone, but at the same time, what came next was...more on instinct than on anything else.
Mia Scott @miascottsw6
…
What…
The fuck…
Am I doing in Canterbury?
“Ms. Scott...”
It was back to “Ms. Scott,” rather than “the preacher’s daughter” or just plain “Mia,” which means he’s back in employee mode...I never even figured out who he was, but ultimately...it didn’t matter.
“You either need to get a ticket and get on a train, or you need to leave the station at this point. You can just sit around all day...”
By the time he was even done talking, my phone had already gone off and I’d forgotten what he said.
lacey @LaceyAllenCohen
@miascottsw6 Uhhh... What? :-/
Mia Scott @miascottsw6
@LaceyAllenCohen ...I don’t know... I just...woke up here... /:
lacey @LaceyAllenCohen
@miascottsw6 That’s a bit off the plotted destination? How can you just wake up
there?
That...was a question I didn’t have an answer to. A blank stare offered straight ahead for a second, I knew I was getting on this man’s last nerve, but at the moment, I was more concerned with (1) figuring out my own life and (2) my girlfriend’s mindset. After a couple other tweets, it became obvious—to me, at least—that she didn’t believe the story I was telling...I needed to tell her at least on the phone, if I couldn’t do it in person just now.
“Ms. Scott, you need to get moving or I’m going to have to call the authorities.”
Shit...right...I didn’t want to be in this place anyway.
“Umm...y-yeh, sorry...just...get me back to London, yeh? I...shouldn’t even be in England.”
“Okay...ticket to St. Pancras station, £36.70”
Absentmindedly, I handed him my bank card. I didn’t even care what was going on, I just needed to get back to London, I could fly out, it’d be like it never happened. At least, that was what I kept telling myself. I didn’t see anyone but this man I don’t know, and only Lacey and Russ had even responded to me as of yet...despite Twitter being out there, not enough people really care what I have to say to backread my stuff, so I could just get back to Miami like I’d told Lacey I was going to, and the whole problem would sort itself out.
When I was handed the ticket (1725, just shy of an hour wait...brilliant), I just stuffed my hands in my pockets and went to sit back on the bench I was at, spaced out and just...wanting this whole day to be over, and be back...was it home, at this point? Was Miami what I called “home” now? I certainly spent as much of my time as I could there...
My phone vibrating shook me out of the debate.
lacey @LaceyAllenCohen
@miascottsw6 Why ain’t you answering your phone?
Shit...like I haven’t given her enough to worry about, now I miss her call. The fuck is my phone doing on silent, anyway? I swallowed, hard, turned the volume up, and waited for a call back...it seems stupid, in hindsight, possibly because I’d forgotten...possibly because I usually phone her, but when her picture popped up and Oasis “Little by Little” started playing, I couldn’t help but smile a bit.
“Hey, love.”
“Hey...”
Promising start; she already sounds sketchy about me.
“So...”
Even the almost patented Lacey swagger was gone...replaced with nerves, maybe. Or suspicion. I didn’t really know which...all I knew was it didn’t sound good.
“What happened?”
“I...”
It was a question I’d been trying to answer since I snapped out of it; what the hell happened? I’d told her everything I knew—I was backstage, the world went black, I woke up in Canterbury.
“I don’t know. I swear, Lace, I’m being as honest with you as I possibly can...last thing I remember, I’m backstage at the show...I don’t even remember if the match happened!
“Next thing I know, I’m sitting at a train station. Everything else is just...gone...”
“I can’t understand how you could get on a plane...much less clear customes and TSA without being cognitive...”
“I don’t know…I don’t know how I got here, I don’t even have my bag! I’ve got my passport, my phone, and my bank card...that’s it...”
I wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that it was true, the fact that I had to tell her, or the pause as I can only imagine she tried to process just how bad off I really was.
“Mia, I just don’t...understand, like...”
“Lace, I don’t...know. You know everything I know, baby, I promise...I got a ticket back to London, I’m flying back as soon as I possibly can...”
Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if she was listening to me, or if this all sounded like white noise by now. Fuck knows, if I was in her shoes, I wouldn’t believe a word of it either...there was a pause, just...silence; I couldn’t even tell if she was still on the line or not. If I’m honest...I just wanted to say it; even if she wasn’t listening, even if she’d hung up...
“...Love you, Lace...I’ll see you soon, aright?”
“Mia!?”
Shit...you must be kidding...
I glanced up from my phone, a nervous tension in my neck as it craned upwards. Another lump formed in my throat, another pit in my stomach...like all this wasn’t bad enough...
“...Hi mum...dad…”
--------------------------------------
“It was...it was almost funny to listen to my teammates talk leading up to last week’s match; it was almost funny to listen to them spout off the same lines, about how they weren’t sure the “black sheep” of the team could be trusted--they weren’t sure Mia Scott was someone who could be relied on. The rumours of paranoia surrounding me were actually more entertaining than anything…
Nevermind saying it to my face, though, right? Nevermind confronting me about it...you go to Lacey to learn something about me, Josh...what, did you think she wasn’t going to tell me? All three of you made assumptions based on...what, the one match you’d seen of me up to that point? The one that I came in, blind, against Corvis and ended up putting him on his arse?
"You spent the entire match wondering if and when I was going to just walk away, because you don’t know a bloody thing about me. You might think the guy who signed off on my contract would know who he was hiring...frankly, I had assumed he’d at least watched SOMETHING of the videos I’d brought. But, I guess that’s what I get for assuming...
“You lot made assumptions because you didn’t take the time to find out who you were teaming with, to find out anything about me from before I came here; you assumed I was acting as, what...Lacey’s double agent in that match? Even now, nothing’s changed...I did what you lot couldn’t last week, I survived Jason Spirit, I won the match for us, and nothing’s changed--I didn’t expect a fucking hero’s welcome, but enough trust to not hear the same shit from you, Nova, might’a been nice.
“You were ready to surrender. The four’a ya had the white flag raised, about ready to wave it, because there was no way we were advancing. Mia Scott was either going to get her head taken off...or she was going to fuck you over, right? Here’s the god’s honest truth: if I wanted us out, I woulda walked last match. I was the ONLY ONE LEFT...I could'a walked off and saved myself the exhaustion, saved myself a headache, and proved you all right. Make no mistake, Ashe...Nova...if I wanted us out of War Games...we’d be out. And there wouldn’t have been a damn thing you could’a done to stop me at that point.
“Instead, I did what none of you could’ve believed: I fought. None of you assumed I’d so much as put in the effort, and I put our esteemed US Champion on her arse, I stuck Cobalt to the mat, and at the end of the night, I was the one left standing, I was the one that survived! The misfit, the castaway, the black sheep was the ONLY ONE LEFT.
“Truth is, you don't know a damn thing about me. You don't know who I am...you sit there and make assumptions, because you don’t know the Mia Scott that steps in that ring. You know the one on Twitter, the one the toured the arena before signing...you don’t know who I am as a fighter, because you assume anything I’ve done, anywhere else, doesn’t matter...you didn't watch me fight for 45 minutes against one of my best friends, because it didn’t happen in an ECWF ring. You didn't watch me take everything she had for the sake of a match--title or not--then turn around and fight another friend 2 days later for half an hour.
“You were basing everything you know about me on two pieces of information: (1) I’m dating Lacey Allen; (2) I’d had one match in this company to that point. And when I proved your assumptions wrong, what? All of a sudden it was a team effort, yeh? You were content to place the blame on me if we lost, assuming I’d throw the match...but since I fought Spirit off, you can say “we won,” Nova?
“I’m not asking you lot to trust me with nuclear launch codes here...I’m just asking for enough trust not to assume the same ridiculous shit you assumed about me after last week, all because you had no idea who you had for a teammate. I’m just asking for enough trust not to repeat, ad nauseum,
"The irony of having to fight Leanne in England less than two months ago is probably lost on most of you, so...for the sake of it, I’ll explain why I brought her up: the end game of War Games is a match, for a title, with someone I care about. You lot assumed that would be something that forced me out; you assumed I wouldn’t be able to do it. I fought one of my best friends for a title...not because I wanted to hurt her, but because we were put across from each other.
“For 45 minutes, I did everything I could to seriously injure someone I care about; I did everything in my power to break her arm, choke her out, stick her flat to the mat...this is someone who's done more for me than maybe anyone else, and I was trying to knock her out...all over a belt, because Pro Wrestling: FRONTIER told us to fight each other.
"So tell me...what exactly do you think is different now? Do you think the fact that I wasn’t sleeping with Leanne changes anything?
“Last week wasn’t a one-off performance for me...last week was a glimpse...into who I am, into what kind of fighter I am. Bell to bell...I don’t care who you are, what you’ve done, what your reputation is...you’re an “Icon,” you’re a “God,” you’re a “Wonder,” you’re the “Iceman,” you’re whatever you want to call yourself? That’s fantastic for you...but you still walk, talk, and breathe, and that means I have a chance. That means I can, and will, fight...until either I put you down...or you put me down.”
--------------------------------------
DATE: 25 November 2014
I’d made it back to Miami, prepared for the worst...
Flown back with an escort from one of Jon Collins’ people, to make sure I actually made it...it was simultaneously a nice gesture, and the most overbearing thing I’ve dealt with in a long, long time. Touched down in Miami airport, and all I was hoping was she’d be in the terminal...not that I wanted to hash anything out publicly, I just...wanted to see her.
When she wasn’t there to pick me up, the mindset got worse.
I sat in silence in a cab, just staring out the window, wondering what was coming when I got there. I thought about calling her, at least telling her was I on my way...but I wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to me, she hadn’t seemed to...want to listen to me the last few days; when I told her the truth, she didn’t believe me...if I told her what I think she wanted to hear, it’d make me a liar. I sent her a text, at least...whether or not she got it, I have no idea. In the meantime, I was stuck...and the longer I sat in silence, the longer I wished she’d just ask how I was doing...the more and more I started to wonder if she cared.
I knew, then, that this could go really bad…
But it was when I got to her house...it was when I was standing in her living room...she on the back porch, her back to me, when I realised exactly how bad things could get. I’d known it could’ve happened, but I wanted, badly, to hope that Lacey was different. These...episodes, these blackouts, had already ended more than one relationship of mine…one, twice; she took me back, only to cast me aside again when the next one happened.
So when she came inside and it wasn’t “hey, love,” or “hi, baby,” not that I deserved it at the minute...I couldn’t stop the shiver. She HAD to have seen it, how would you not see the only other person in the room trembling? And Lacey...christ, she couldn’t have made it more dramatic. She had every reason to leave me, if I’m honest; every reason to kick me to the curb and let me figure out where to go from there, and...I definitely thought she was going to.
I wouldn’t have even been surprised, at that point; I wanted to think otherwise, but every scrap of evidence pointed to it.
I wasn’t sure what hit me more...that I was...more than convinced, PREPARED to be left...or when she threw me the curveball and started telling me family history...it was like a punch to the stomach; she was...maybe not PREPARED to tell me that, but willing. I couldn’t even respond for a good few seconds. I was crying too hard...it was all I could do. There was nothing in my head except this mix of grief for her and relief for myself, all of it WAY more overwhelming than I could’ve possibly dealt with at the time.
I didn’t have all the facts she wanted at the minute...and even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to get them out. It’s hard enough to get “I love you” out between choked sobs and struggles for air, let alone start telling stories that I haven’t told anyone before...let alone start telling her some of the things I thought I understood, that MIGHT be able to help her understand that I wasn’t lying to her when I said I didn’t know what I did, that I didn’t know how I travelled or where I went...they just happened.
Just the relief that Lacey wasn’t doing the same thing to me was enough for me for the moment...so when I finally did find my voice, among the rubble of my vocal cords that had been shredded with tears and screams over the last few days, I was little more than a babbling mess.
“Lace...I...”
It was all I had for the minute. The relief took over; I threw my arms around her neck, unable to keep myself from crying, as much as I tried...I know I tried to say “I love you,” but I was pressed so tight up against her it was little more than a mumble. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say I literally cried myself to sleep in her arms. I was a wreck, and I wasn’t getting any better until I actually rested. I’d been sick to my stomach for about the last 24 hours, hadn’t eaten in about 36, and who knows how long it’d been since I actually slept, and it was all catching up to me...and when that much emotional weight came off all at once, I never had a chance of staying awake.
I never sleep long, though. Even when I do get to bed at a decent hour, I still don’t sleep very long; midnight to 4 or 5 in the morning is usually about the extent of it, until it all catches up to me about once a month and I just crash. Unfortunately (or was it, in this case?), today wasn’t that day. I don’t know how long I was asleep...I knew it was dark out, which mean it had been hours...
Oh...hey...Chelsea won. Neat.
I stirred from the couch, turning my phone out of idle curiosity: 1753...four, five hour nap meant I wasn’t sleeping tonight. Great. Meekly, I got up to my feet, hoping she was still in the house...she’d shown me a painful kind of honesty...the least I could do was reciprocate.
“Lace?”
I don’t know why I assumed she’d be in bed...maybe it’s because I was asleep, so logically, so was everyone else? Maybe it was because...who knows why. I just know that the first place I went to look was the bedroom.
Nothing.
“Lacey?”
Kitchen? No.
Bathroom door was open, so no.
Wasn’t still on the couch with me.
I went to check the garage, and her car was still there. I couldn’t be smile a little, that brilliant red a sick irony, considering what caused the car to be repainted. It did look sleek painted like it, even if every time we drove anywhere, Lacey got this goofy grin about the “girl in blue” having to get in her bright red car. For just a second, I put a hand on the hood...then remembered what I was doing, heading back into the house.
Last place I could think to look: back porch again.
Maybe I should’a guessed...out back smoking. Lord knows I could’a used one...might still, considering the stories I’m about to have to tell. I still wasn’t sure how to approach the topic, other than just...blunt, like she had, but I wasn’t sure I was ready, let alone ABLE, to do it. But...if nothing else, she deserved it. So I pushed the back door open, hands immediately stuffed into my pockets.
“Hey...”
“Hey, you’re up!”
A smile...that’s already better than I was getting before.
“Yeh...I...”
I drew a breath in, holding it for a second...then letting it out. Once or twice more, just to settle my nerves, eventually reaching for the cigarette package nearby. I had been doing so well about quitting...but willpower wasn’t exactly my strong suit at the moment.
“I...owe you...a lotta story time, don’t I?”
“Something like that, yea...”
She just laughed a little bit as I struck the match, taking a quick puff from the cigarette, exhaling the smoke out slowly.
“Then...”
I stared straight ahead, nervously flicking the ash off the tip of the cigarette, trying to stall for time while I figured out where to start. In my distraction, I didn’t notice as she reached over, fingertips brushing against my closer hand.
“Hey...”
My breath caught in my throat a little bit...I wasn’t sure if it was because I wasn’t sure if that was going somewhere, or just meant as a comfort gesture. When she didn’t keep talking, though, I finally swallowed the breath and steeled myself.
“God, I...don’t even know where to start...”
“Beginning’s...usually a good place.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing a little bit—even now, in a situation like this, she could put me at ease. It...blew my mind, frankly; I was convinced she wanted nothing to do with me, and here she is trying to make this at least somewhat easier...
“I think I told you before, these...heh, I used to call them ‘episodes’ because ‘blackouts’ scared me too much, but I think we’re past euphemisms by now...they’ve been happening for years. Sometimes...it’s just a few minutes; sometimes it’s an hour or two. Until this weekend...”
Just bringing it up made my voice catch. Deep breath, Mia...in...out...
“...I’ve never had one that bad...I’ve woken up from them in different places before...it’s...sorta like sleepwalking, you don’t...REALLY know where you’re going, or even THAT you’re going...you just sorta come to and you’re somewhere else, except...in this case, you’re not asleep; apparently, I’ve...carried on conversations like this...I ended up on a train to France once, ended up with a girl’s number before I even came to...”
Yeah, that’s smart, Mia...you’re trying to tell her this to make her trust you again, and you tell her you almost picked up a French girl on a train while blacked out. I’m sure that went over well...
“Until this weekend...the worst one I can remember was the story I told you once about breaking my ex’s nose; I just...I went black for...like 15 minutes. Last thing I knew, I was at the gym I worked at for a bit...woke up, I’m in a holding cell with assault charges pending, if she cared to file ‘em...
“I sent one of Jay’s trainees to the hospital in his debut match...that’s the one that scared me to the point of not wrestling for almost a year...I don’t...I don’t really know what triggered it, I mean...I have an idea...but I don’t know for sure...”
It all just came pouring out—everything I knew, everything I suspected, all of it. I had to stop myself once or twice, take a drag off the cigarette just to settle my nerves...and slow my pace down, give her a chance to process what I was telling her.
“There’s some that...I dunno, they happen when something bad happens, it seems like. Utopia’s knockout kick to my head, I beat him to a pulp...Katherine showed up at my job, I broke her nose...got fired the next day, woke up in downtown London with police telling me to quiet down...I guess I was just...screaming, at nothing in particular...
“But...then there’s ones...that just happen. I just...lose a few minutes, or I go to bed here and wake up there...no real...rhyme or reason to them, no pattern that I can tell...those are the ones that scare me the most, honestly...if it was just a coping mechanism, I could...figure something out, but...sometimes it just...happens...
“I’ve gone to doctors...I’ve talked to shrinks...nobody knows what’s going on, everyone says I’m fine, I’m clear, whatever...but then a month or so down the line, I’m worried about the same thing...”
I turned my head to glance over at Lacey for a second, and...I couldn’t really read the look on her face. Normally, it was fairly easy for me...this time, maybe it was...self-doubt, maybe it was because this really is a weird story and I know that, but...I wasn’t sure she believed me.
“That’s why, when Jon asked me to come out, I had to go...it was the first time anyone’s EVER told me they’d dealt with something similar. I...I didn’t know how to explain it when I called from the airport, I...I dunno, I didn’t...have the words, I guess...or, at least...I didn’t know them...
“It was...this is...a dumb comparison, but it was kinda like that first coming out moment...you realize, ‘hey, I’m not the only one like me,’ and it helps that mindset...kinda the same thing, only...”
I’d be unconsciously dragging off the cigarette while I spoke, and I realised it was already almost gone. Man...I’m bad about that...
“It wasn’t...it wasn’t that I didn’t want you to know. If anything, Lace, I needed you with me, I was...that was the worst I’d been in years, sat in that tiny hotel room, going over...everything in my head. It...”
I felt like I was gonna be sick...maybe as bad as when I thought she was kicking me out. I wasn’t sure how to say the next part without sounding like I was blaming her, but...if I didn’t get it out, it’d stay bottled up.
“I statements,” Mia...
“I just...I couldn’t shake the feeling like I’d done something...like you didn’t...”
“That you didn’t care” isn’t the right way to say it, but that’s all that’s coming to mind. I choked back the word, because it’s not what I want to say...but what DO I want to say?
“...I don’t know...I just kept going over and over in my head all the reasons you wouldn’t call me, without...thinking that I could phone, too. I start to fret and I lose myself in it...I always have...everything becomes the worst...possible scenario; the cough that lasts more than a day is the flu...that soreness in my shoulder that takes a bit longer than normal to go away, that’s gonna need an operation...
“These...these blackouts have turned a lot of friends and…more’n a couple girlfriends away from me...I hate to talk about them, I hate to even...think about them, but I’ve never...I’ve never had one like this weekend. Even after last Madness, I just...”
I winced a little bit as soon as I said...I forgot, I hadn’t actually told her about that yet...I blamed it on an adrenaline crash because, in defense, it was partly true...but I also didn’t really remember all of the night out after the match.
The look she gave me when it slipped out of my mouth said it all: a mix of concern and curiosity, maybe the tiniest hint of...was it mistrust? Disappointment that I couldn’t tell her? Whatever it was...I had to remedy it.
Total honesty...
“That...yeh...that’s sorta why I stuck to the table that night...I was in and out...I never...never went really black...and...one’a the rare nights that I was glad I couldn’t drink...but after...everything, I was...”
I swallowed a little bit—it was probably one of the more obvious things I’d said so far...when you’re a third the size of your opponent and take abuse to the head, who WOULDN’T be out of it? But...in this case, it was something I had to tell her...
I’m sure the next part was going to go over well.
“It’s what...really scares me about the next match...”
“The Russian...”
I could only nod; if Jason Spirit rattled my brains with a couple’a punches and a kick...I dread to think what the Russian could do. Especially now...after all this? What if...
It’s in the future, Mia...focus on now.
“Won’t lie to you and say I’m looking forward to the prospect...”
“I’m scared to death, Lace...the rest of ‘em, fine...I’d fight all three of ‘em at once if I had to...but the Russian...”
I just swallowed the rest of the sentence. It didn’t need to be said. He could physically wreck me with ease...but now, all it might take is one good shot to wreck me mentally too. I gulped just once, trying to get back on topic.
“Anyway...that’s...that’s the gist of it...that’s why I went to San Diego instead of coming back here. I needed to see what, if any, similarities there were...if someone can finally tell me...what’s wrong with me...”
Hardest words I’ve had to force out yet...maybe on both of us, considering the look on her face. “What’s wrong with me;” not “why this happens,” not “what I can do,” but “what’s wrong with me.” Because there IS something wrong with me...even if I don’t like to admit it.
She was able to speak before I was. Thank god.
“So...what did you find out?”
“...Nothing I couldn’t have found out here...took a basic medical, drug test...may have...seen the tweet about that one...”
Rohypnol...that cunt, Raike, fed me spiked water...the mere thought of it was enough to make me grind my teeth. But I’d get my hands on him soon enough...
Assuming I survive Madness to make it to the next FGA show, that is.
“Sat down with him for, like...an hour, just...unloaded...I don’t think I made it ten minutes before I was crying, spent the next...who knows how long just wishing you were there with me...”
That’s not fair, Mia...it may be true, but it’s not fair, you couldn’t just expect her to pack up and go off, what, a panicked voicemail in Heathrow? I turned my gaze down to the floor for a second, taking a couple deep breaths, just to try and relax myself.
“I don’t...I don’t know what it really solved...if I’m honest. I don’t know what going out there did that I couldn’t have done...anywhere else, but...that’s why I went, because nobody else I’d ever spoke to had seen it, experienced it...anything. I...I might not have been thinking clearly, I could’a handled it better, but...it was one’a those moments...I just...”
I wasn’t really sure what I was trying to say anymore...I knew the message, I just didn’t know the words. I turned to look over at her, hoping to see...I wasn’t sure what. Concern for the fact that I had to go to those lengths? Contentment that I’d made it home? Even condemnation, just knowing with absolute certainty what was going on would be better than the limbo...but, for a second, she was...I don’t know that I’d call it blank, but maybe concealed. I didn’t know where else to go with this, though, and an awkward silence hung in the air.
“I...I think I get it. Not ALL of it...”
I still wasn’t entirely confident with what was coming...but if she could at least try to understand, she was better than most of my exes. I exhaled slowly, glancing over to see if there was more to her statement or not. That slightly uncomfortable silence hung between us still...I didn’t know what to say, but I wasn’t sure if she had anything else...
“But...that’s why I told you what I did earlier. I want you to understand that you CAN tell me anything, Mia...this isn’t some fair-weather thing, I only like you when you’re in a good mood. I want you to be able to trust me with anything.”
There was a moment...just a moment...where that was like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t sure if she thought I didn’t trust her...or if she was just reminding me that I can. I took a breath, brushing hair out of my face, eyes clinched shut for a split second to stop a tear--I didn’t need to start crying again. I choked on the words, but I gave her a look, a little smile was all I could manage, and nodded…
--------------------------------------
“I’m under no illusions that this week is going to be nearly as...straight-forward, I suppose, as last week; I’m not expecting us to be 4-1 up when it comes down to the end of the match, I don’t expect we’re going to sweep Zoey’s team away like we did Justin’s. Last week, we fought four people united by nowt but a similar goal...and even then, you could question it.
“Did Jason Spirit really want the World Championship? Did he really feel the need to chase it as badly as, say, Justin did? As Cobalt needed to prove herself, or as Gwen needed to make her statement? Could both Justin and Gwen’s desires for the World Title keep them unified? It was a team very much divided, that wanted us to think they were a solitary unit. And we proved them wrong--like we collectively told them we were going to.
"Did Cobalt really care about the World Championship? Or was she just aiming to 'put the new girl in her place,' try and prove she belongs in ECWF, instead of going back to XWF? Did she really think she could trust Gwen, or that she could get along with Justin after the fit she threw over her loss to him a month ago? Was she genuinely in it, or was she telling us what she thought she was supposed to?
"And then there's the odd duo of Gwen and Justin...a lot questioned his choice of the woman who'd dethroned him as United States Champion--by hook or crook--and attacked him with a crowbar to cost him the battle royal as his first pick; could they ever really be a team? Even when it means the Chamber, the Title, and Lacey? Or was it just happenstance that they ended up together?
"Regardless...they couldn't function as a team; or, maybe more accurately, they DIDN'T function as a team. The only one who tried was Cobalt, and only after she realised she was in over her head did she try to tag out. There was no tag made by Spirit's team, there was no teamwork at all.
“This week...this week, I’m under no illusions we’re facing the same kind of team. This week, we have a team who have an entirely different level of trust than any other team involved in War Games.We face a team with an entirely different dynamic than Justin’s team; Zoey’s is made up of four people with an absolute faith in each other--you almost never see the Russian without Zoey at his side...and the chemistry--in a word--between Aiden and Cass is without question. They will be together; they won’t question each other like every other team has, they won’t doubt each other.
“We aren’t facing four different egos, four different agendas in this match. We’re facing one, united force, with the intent on keeping us out of the Elimination Chamber. To get past a team like that, we have to be united. We can’t be a 3-person team, with one off to the side; we can’t be 75% in, with that 25% questioned. We either trust each other in this match...or we’re getting knocked aside.
“But are we one united team? Are we 100% in this match? I can only tell you for sure that I am...I gave the ECWF a first real glimpse into who I was last week; I faced Aiden in my debut, yeh, but I didn’t have the reason to fight as hard as I did last show. He and I...we were just competition. After all the talk leading up to last Madness, after all the rumours and passive-aggressive shit about me...I had a point to prove. You could argue whether I succeeded or not, but regardless, we advanced...we made it to the War Games final.
“But we can’t doubt each other if we want to make it. I’ll make no bones about it--the more I hear the same things from Nova, both personal and professional...the less keen I am to share a corner with her; I’ve never hidden a skepticism of Ashe, when literally the first interaction we had was him offering me a raincoat...I’m sure you remember what I’m talking about, boss; Josh, in truth, I’ve never had reason to doubt; he picked me, he trusted me well enough.
“But…
“I’m willing to put EVERYTHING aside...at least for one more night, at least for one more match, I’ll put my trust in the three’a ya…because despite what you think...despite what everyone seems to think...I want a shot at the Chamber. I want a shot at the title; Lacey or Justin, it makes no difference to me; bell to bell, they’re an opponent. So this week, as far as I’m concerned...we are a team. We can be as unified or better than Zoey’s team; we can be everything we’ve been hyped to be, the past, present, and future of this company…
“We can be unified in the face of the Russian, we can do everything in our power to get through this whole...we can put the combined force you three see yourselves as, with or without me...and we can settle it all in a few weeks in the Chamber.
“Or you can keep doubting me...you can divide us, and we can watch as Zoey’s team gets into the Chamber instead.”
--------------------------------------
DATE: 26 November 2014
I was just trying to survive the rest of the week...just make it to WarGames, get back to work, get back to a normal life. Well...as normal a life as I could ever hope to live at this point. At least no one in ECWF seemed like they were going to drug me just for the fun of it; if I was gonna get my head knocked sideways, I'd at least be sober. Even Gwen would at least have the guts to do it in person...from behind, with a crowbar, but in person at least. And I'd rather do just about anything than relive this past week. Even stepping in the ring with Doser--terrifying a prospect as that is--would be better than reliving this shit...
So it was that I found myself at the ECWF arena...in-ring training day. I honestly didn't feel the need to train in a wrestling ring all that often...I didn't need the ropes or use the turnbuckles enough that it made much of a difference. I didn't need anything but a mat and an opponent to do what I do...but today, today I just wanted to get in the ring, to feel like...well, to feel like me again, to feel "normal," in so much as any of us are normal.
I was changed, ready, and just getting my last bit of stretching in, I just need somebody, ANYBODY, to get in the ring with.
“Well, well, look who chose to join us for 'pleb day'..."
I didn't have to look up...only three girls in the locker room have that accent. I might not be in the best mindset, but I'm not taunting myself...I knew Lacey was at her meet and greet with some fans..that only leaves one.
“...Kelly..."
The last thing I needed this week was Cobalt's shit. She hasn't had the proverbial bollocks to come up to me and say what the rumblings were...not that it ever stopped anyone else, but they were all either far away, hear-say, our fans on the internet. None of my peers, to my face, had ever bothered to say it. They hadn't stepped up and spoke their minds yet...
I had a feeling that was about to change.
“Lemme guess..."
"Or you could stuff it and listen. We both know you're only here because of Lacey. Everyone knows you fucked your way into this company..."
I couldn't help but scoff. I had a fifteen pound belt in my bag that said I was the best technical wrestler in Britain, an undefeated record (albeit only 2-0) in the promotion I "fucked my way into," and a pinfall victory over someone who was straight up called "The Icon." But I humoured her...I wanted to see what point she was going to make.
"You walk into this place, get HANDED an opportunity, instead of earning it like people like me and Jon...you get treated like fucking royalty, get handed a chance to chase the World Title, all just because you dove face first int..."
“Hey...Kelly? Don't finish that sentence..."
She looked taken aback that I even had the guts to interrupt her. It was almost cute, this momentary, slack-jaw look of disbelief...it was only momentary, though, before she puffed her chest up and decided to pick right back up. I couldn't stop from rolling my eyes. All I wanted was a simple training day...if she was determined to take it away from me, at the very least, she wasn't insulting my girlfriend in the same breath.
"Tell me, what's it like wrestling in bingo halls? You like still being in places like that?
I'd worked some small shows, but I'm not sure where this bingo hall idea came from; it wasn't the first time I'd heard it thrown around. The DC Armory may be small, but it wasn't like it was some YMCA meeting hall. I just shook my head...I wasn't in a mood to deal with this shit, but if she was going to keep getting smart...I could do it right back.
“It's fun. Nice and intimate, ya really get to know the fans in the front couple rows...hell, one of 'em in New Jersey gave me his number, if ya want it. Boston isn't too far from Newark, right?"
It was a cheap shot. I knew that; truth be told, Kelly was one of those I genuinely thought deserved a call up, but whenever she was given the chance, something stopped her. I couldn't help but think, if she wasn't so...entitled, if she didn't act like she just DESERVED success, I'd work with her; I'd be willing to help her. But every time she spoke about me, that would-be acid tongue seemed to come out.
So instead of a couple'a London girls--CHELSEA girls, no less--working together, hoping to improve one another...she felt like I took something from her, because ECWF signed me, with or without my connection to Lacey. Lacey just made me an easy target for ridicule. I knew the cheap shot would rile her up, but if I'm honest, I kind of expected her to just huff and fuck off. Instead…
"Proud'a that, are ya? Like you're proud'a the way you beat me the other night? Let Nova do all the work, soften me up, and you STILL had trouble?"
“It's called teamwork, Kelly...and yeh, you put up a good fight. That what you wanna hear from me?"
"Oh, fucking spare me. Head to head, you wouldn't have a chance."
"Trust me, love...ya don't want to pick this fight with me right now..."
"Aww...what's wrong, little girl? Scared?"
"Kelly...I'm trying to do you a favour here, love...I'm not in the best mood, you do NOT want to fight me right now."
I had to take a second to try and keep myself composed...I didn't want anything to happen. She wants to settle this imagined grudge of hers, we can settle it in ring, once WarGames was over.
"Ah...but what else should we expect from Cohen's pet slu--"
She didn't even finish the sentence before...I don't know what happened, I lost it. I went from full stretch to a double leg takedown, planted her flat on her arse. She wasn't prepared for a fight, she was just puffed up, and all of a sudden, I was pounding her nose flat with punched and elbows. There was something viscerally satisfying about hearing the THUD of my knuckles connecting just below her orbital bone, something gratifying after all the talk, all the he said-she said, about the point of my elbow connecting just above her eye. It spoke to that primal part of my brain.
Most people try to keep that part of their brains quiet, simple...but when you fight...when your health and safety is genuinely on the line, sometimes...sometimes, it's the primal part that keeps you aware of what's going on around you. It worries about the simple things. I didn't have time to worry about whether Lacey and I are really going to be okay, or if it's a temporary fix to a bigger problem...I didn't have time to worry about getting even with Raike for drugging me, or find out if Noelle really stole from me or if she was set up. I didn't have time to worry about WarGames.
I only had time to worry about the fight...about Cobalt--or, as the blood splattered on the floor, I couldn't help but think Crimson was a more appropriate nickname at the moment. The higher part of my brain wasn't even aware of what was happening...the part of my brain that's the simple, snarky, Chelsea supporter was gone. All that was left was the fighter. And the fighter...the base creature that hid in my head...well, she was out to prove a point.
To Kelly's credit, she tried to fight back...but she was no fighter. She was a flyer, she was quick, but she was no match for me on the ground. Everything she tried, I instinctively avoided; every time she tried to get away, I blocked her; every time she tried to fight back, I overpowered her. It wasn't hard...she had no experience, and I was where I wanted to be.
By the time I was done, I'd left the former XWF Impact Champion a bloody mess on a training mat. I stumbled back up to my feet...and suddenly, the world faded back in. Wherever the rest of my mind went. It all came rushing back, and I realised what I'd done. I realised how bad she was hurt, her eye swelling up already, face covered in blood...and I we scared out of my mind. Last time this happened, I sent Utopia Vidal to the hospital on his debut...but that was to check for a concussion...this? This is something totally different...
I stumbled backwards to where I'd stashed my bag, shakily pulling my phone out.
"911 operator, what's your emergency?"
"I, um...I need an ambulance...sent to the ECWF arena, soon as possible..."
"Yes ma'am, we'll get it on its way soon."
I swallowed, hard, as the operator hung up...I knew that wasn't the only call I had to make. I stared at my phone for a moment, sighing to myself before punching speed dial 2.
* RING RING *
Come on, Lace...pick up, baby, pick up…
* RING RING *
* RING RI-- *
"Hey, luv. Through with training already?"
Nervously, I shifted in place, reaching up and rubbing at the back of my neck. A nervous tick.
"Lace...I..."
"What's wrong, luv?”
I cast a brief glance over to the prone body of a bloody Cobalt Cooper, gulping a bit.
"I, um...I'm not really sure...it...it happened again..."
"What...happened again, Mia? You're...you're aright, yea?"
"I'm fine, but...um..."
I didn't want to say it...saying it made it too real, but I owed her total honesty. It was a horrifying thought to me, even as I couldn't help but think she'd laugh a little…
"Cobalt's not..."
--------------------------------------
"So, now the Black Sheep is the Dark Horse. You didn't know what I was about, you didn't know who I was, until last week; all anyone in this place but maybe Aiden and Lacey knew about me coming into War Games itself was that I took advantage of a mistake Aiden made and got a win; all you knew about me was I survived a match with someone you lot called undeserving of his shot at the World Championship. You didn't know that Mia Scott was a fighter, you assumed I was fragile, that I'd break, crumble in the face of conflict.
"Now, hopefully...you know better.
"I said when I first came here, if I didn't think I was good enough to make it, I never would'a bothered; I never would'a wasted my time. I'm in three other companies, if I didn't think I was good enough to come here, I'da stayed with them. But I chose to come here because I wanted the test--I wanted the challenge. The best in the United States compete here, some say; maybe some of the best in the world. I wanted the challenge, I wanted to test myself...
"So far? Against EVERY expectation...I've passed. It may only be two matches, and you can make all the excuses you want...'Spirit was tired out by the time Mia got to him,' 'Aiden made a mistake,' 'Cobalt...' who the fuck knows what you wanna say about Cobalt? Truth of the matter is, I've passed every challenge that's been put in front of me so far.
"Survive the Russian...maybe the most frightening single human being on the planet. A monster, in no uncertain terms.
"Survive the only other World Champion in the last year and change.
"Survive the hyped team captain, the daughter of the west coast that's in a position similar to my own...having to prove herself to her contemporaries.
"Survive maybe the most determined wrestler in the company.
"I hate to quote her...but in the words of Gwen Massey: simple, right?
"And once we done that, then...then it's the Elimination Chamber. Myself, Nova, Ashe, and Genocide...the World Champion, whoever walks out of that match on Monday...and the winner of a battle royal; potentially, that monster could still make the match. Potentially, Gwen, Bradley, Huffman, Nate, any of them could fight their way back in; Jason could earn his way back; who knows who makes it out of that match...but they get their shot at redemption, they get their second chance, and a shot at the title along with the four that win War Games...
"But that's in the future...first, we have to get there."
