It’s the waiting that always gets me the most wound-up about having to travel.
First, waiting on line and going through security.
Then, waiting on the plane to be ready to board.
Then, waiting to land at the next city I’m wrestling at.
Then, waiting for the show to start.
Then, waiting for my match to be up.
Then, waiting to see everyone else I care about...Annie, Laurel, Leanne, even Chaz...despite everything that’s happened there.
Then, waiting to take the next flight out, to wherever I have to go next.
Lather.
Rinse.
Repeat.
The constant back and forth, the travel to and from the States, was getting to where I could barely take it; I never stayed in one place for too long. Fly home to London, stay for a night; take the train to wherever FRONTIER’s having it’s next show, stay a night or two...end up in Manchester to train with Laurel and Leanne, stay the night...fly to the States for FGA, stay a couple nights in whatever town they’re in...then fly to Miami for ECWF, stay with Lacey a couple nights.
I don’t have a “home,” exactly...I still use the word to describe London, even though I barely see the city outside of Heathrow anymore...so it doesn’t really fit. Maybe if I took a step back, let myself go back to working for just one or two companies...base myself in the States, focus on ECWF and FGA; or just fly in for Madness and any pay per view I happen to make it to, base myself back in London and focus on FRONTIER and Fight Club: UK; maybe then, I could have a home.
As it stands, all I have is constant fatigue...and insomnia.
No respite at all.
It was bad enough having to wrestle (ostensibly) one tag match in New Jersey on Saturday night, fly out on a red-eye, and wrestle another one in Coventry, England, on Sunday; it was bad enough having to deal with the fatigue that came with that much travel, that much time spent more or less sat on my hands, nothing to distract myself from the whirlwind of thoughts lately but a pair of headphones and the latest bloody Oasis song Lacey put on my phone.
Saturday...didn’t exactly go off without a hitch; it was supposed to be a tag match, myself and Noelle Smith against Natalie McKinley and Camellia D. Morgan. Noelle...apparently decided it wasn’t her bloody issue, and didn’t show up; left me to the wolves. With one eye on FRONTIER the next night, and having to face the GFC Tag Team Champions, I wasn’t entirely sure I didn’t just want to walk out on the match...
It took every bit of willpower I had not to just roll right back out of the ring and hand the win to Natalie and Camellia; I really didn’t want to put up with a 2 on 1 match, least of all when I wasn’t prepared for it, when I was expecting to have a partner who’d been a Tag Team Champion in the past, who’d been successful in this kind of match before--a kind of match I’d never been involved in, to that point. Instead...I found myself without my partner, and FGA telling me “No, Mia...you’re wrestling regardless, hope you don’t mind getting fucked like this.”
I might have taken them lightly.
Natalie was making her debut. Camellia had been in FGA for a while, well longer than me, but never made much of an impact, for whatever reason; she had a mediocre record; maybe I got caught up on that, caught up in the belief that having a partner, against a couple’a wrestlers who either had no career to speak of, or a mediocre one, the match would be easy. Or, at least...easier than I’d dealt with of late--Leanne, Hardaway, Corvis...maybe I took the match light. Maybe they were better than I expected. Maybe I didn’t prepare as hard given I’d have a partner.
Whatever the reason...I got my arse kicked in that match. I got hit with moves I’ve never seen before, I missed easy things, I let the numbers get the better of me for a good chunk of the match. I didn’t want to own up to it, but when several FGA wrestlers also compete in FRONTIER, it was hard to hide how much of a beating I really took; Sylar and Sterling took advantage, they heaped the misery on. I didn’t expect any less of them. They had a chip on their shoulder, they needed to prove to FRONTIER, the GFC, and everyone watching that they needed to be taken seriously. They’d lost to a cheerleader and her bloody disciple, their first shot...and had only just claimed the tag title for their own recently. They needed a trademark win; they needed to make a statement.
And they did a damn good job.
The problem for them was I needed to make one as well; despite having maybe the best pure wrestling match England’s seen this year with Leanne two weeks prior, it didn’t amount to much if I turned around and blew the momentum before it got started. In the days building up to the FGA/FRONTIER double-header, I became very much aware that I needed more than a victory over Corvis and a handicap match in other companies. I needed to get another good win in FRONTIER…
They did a good job trying to stop us...but not quite good enough, Sands saw to the pinfall. They did enough of a number on me that I felt it for a few days, they beat me up enough that I knew I’d been in a fight...I couldn’t tell anyone about it, I didn’t want to concern them…
But, if I’m honest, by the time the match came about...the win or loss wasn’t a concern anymore. I knew, in the back of my mind, that I needed the win; I knew I needed to establish myself more, but it wasn’t a concern.
At all.
I had so much more on my mind than whether Fear and Loathing put me in the ground, or if myself and Sean Sands got one over on the tag team champions; I had so much more on my mind than wrestling; more than wins and losses, or who got what result…
-------------
DATE: 8 NOVEMBER 2014
I was backstage at the last FGA show...I’d just finished a match, and immediately had to start getting ready to go. No time to celebrate that I’d managed to fight off two talented, albeit relatively green, wrestlers...no time to watch Leanne compete, no time to do any of it--I had to get ready for a flight out, almost before the final bell for the show even rang. I’d showered, changed, was packing the last of my gear before the door to my locker room was basically kicked in...and literally the last person I’d expect to see stood in front of me…
Chaz.
I’d done...a lot to him and his sister, if I’m honest; when...everything happened between Lacey and I, I had...sorta been dating his sister; I didn’t know what it was at the time, certainly didn’t know who SHE was, bt in the end...it’s the truth. Neither of them had said more than a couple words to me since I admitted to Christina what happened...Chaz called me, read me the riot act, then hung up...Christina hadn’t so much as bothered. So when he basically kicked my door in...I knew, instinctively, this wasn’t going to go well.
That didn’t prepare me...at all...for what he was about to say.
”This is all YOUR fault!!”
The headphones had blocked out what he’d said, but I could hear the volume...even over music being played straight into my ears as loud as my phone could go, I could hear him. I knew SOMETHING was wrong. Instinctively, I felt myself take a step back...I didn’t entirely know how to react, if I’m honest, and...well...reflex took over.
I laughed at him.
Not completely, flat-out laughed, but...after a month of being ignored, after a month of my name being cursed like I’d killed his puppy or something, he kicks my door in and expects me to take him seriously? I couldn’t help it…
“Ya ignore me for a fucking month, mate, and all’a sudden, ya wanna come bursting in?”
Yeah, nice, Mia...you’re just getting the chance to talk to one of the people you’ve hurt, and THAT’S how you open it up? Fantastic.
”I ignored you...because you cheated on my sister.”
Yeah, I know WHY you did it…
”And now she’s gone! And it’s YOUR FAULT!”
It was more of a reflexive reaction than a conscious one, but the moment his voice raised, I flinched back...I don’t think he even noticed, I didn’t draw too much attention to it and he was seeing red...after the night I’d just had, though, I wasn’t particularly in a mood to deal with being yelled at. I’m pretty sure I ground a little bit off the ends of my teeth before I replied to him…
“Yeh, and I tried to apologise more times than I can count for that...ya don’t wanna listen to me, that’s on you.”
It took a second to register that he said she was gone...I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, if I’m honest. Did she leave the show? Did she head back to London, fly back to California…? I wasn’t the most diplomatic in finding out, either…
“And whaddaya mean gone? What, she take off back to England and ya not happy about it?”
”Are you not paying attention? No, I don’t mean gone to London! I mean GONE! Taken! She got kidnapped and it’s your fault! If you weren’t such a cheating bitch, she wouldn’t have come here in the first place, and she sure wouldn’t be wherever the HELL Mirage dragged her off to!”
"PAYING ATTENTION TO WHAT!? Don’t know if ya picked up on it, mate, I ain’t exactly just sitting around here, or back at the fucking hotel already, I gotta..."
The first thing that registered, once I got past the initial reaction, was the word “kidnapped.” Whatever I was GOING to say got caught in my throat, and all I could feel was sympathy for him...how could you not, his sister’s the victim of not just what I did, but now some twat in a mask wanting to play mind games over a belt.
Christ, it’s amazing what people in this business do for titles.
The second thing that registered, though...was “if you weren’t such a cheating bitch.” He has no idea...he doesn’t know the truth of it, he doesn’t even begin to know why that would set me off...but the fact of the matter is, it did...and I went a little blank. Nevermind the sympathy for his sister at this point…
I held my arms out, offering the only bag I had on me to him, as if I was at an airport and he asked to search me.
“Are you fucking serious? LOOK AROUND YOU! THIS is all I have in this place! What, ya think I got her fucking stashed in my carry-on? Ya storm in here, KNOWING...WHO TOOK HER...so go fucking find HIM! Ya wanna blame me for it, for something I’ve TRIED...and TRIED...to make amends for...you’re fucking deluding yourself.”
"Look for her? LOOK FOR HER!? I ALREADY TRIED, MIA, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK, THE FIRST THING THAT CAME TO MIND WAS TO COME HERE!?”
If he’d given me a second to speak up there, I’d have thrown out that the first thing he seems content to do is blame me...but I couldn’t have got a word in here if I’d tried...he was angry about a lot, not just his sister’s current whereabouts, and he was getting it all off his chest--at least...I hoped it was all of it.
”I LOOKED ALL OVER THE BUILDING, THEY’RE GONE! And you can spin it however you want, but the fact remains that if YOU DIDN’T SCREW UP...Christina would be in London, safe and sound, in her home! But NO...instead, Mirage has her, doing GOD KNOWS WHAT...and IT’S YOUR FAULT! ALL...YOUR...FAULT!"
By the time he was done, I wasn’t even entirely sure who was in my locker room anymore...not because I wasn’t paying attention or because I was trying to ignore the situation or make light of it, I genuinely don’t remember the next few moments...what I do know is I came dangerously close to knocking him out...I could feel the tension in my arms, one trying to support the bag that suddenly felt like it weighed 100 kilos, the other fist balled up so tight my knuckles turned pale...I could feel a little twitch in my right eye, I could feel my breathing getting heavier, but that was all I was aware of...I wasn’t looking AT him anymore, I didn’t SEE Chaz Holiday anymore...he was just there.
And then...
He took a step back...back against the wall, and practically collapsed to the floor, knees curled up to himself...head down, arms wrapped around so he practically turned into a ball, and all I could hear was crying. All I could hear was the distress of an older brother who’s missing his little sister...and whatever threat I thought he’d posed to me disappeared...whatever issue him shouting at me raised in my head, it faded…
"It’s..”
It was the only word he could get out at first, interrupted by a bout of sobs.
"It’s my fault…”
The more I settled, the more I became aware of what was happening...the more I became aware that Chaz never came in here wanting to hurt me, never came in here wanting to intimidate me...I was the easy target, because I’d made mistakes involving his sister...I was the easy target, because if you follow causality...maybe, maybe I was responsible for her ending up here. But there were more factors than just me...and I think he started to realize it.
"It’s all...all my fault…”
He couldn’t get anything else out...the anger had subsided, given way to grief; my own had as well, whatever rage was bubbling up in the back of my mind had faded. The cynical, practical part of me...the part that knew I had a flight to get to, that it was a half-hour drive to the airport, wanted to just leave him to his grief; he hadn’t wanted to deal with me in the last month, and only now, when he needed someone to point a finger at, was I someone worth thinking about…
But the other part of me...the part that knew better, the part that knew he didn’t come here needing to blame me...he came here because he needed SOMEONE, someone that understood...even a little bit...what he might be going through...that part of me didn’t let me leave. I dumped my bag to the ground, inching over to sit beside him...I wasn’t sure I’d be a welcome presence, but...I had to do something…
“Chaz, I’m…”
What do you say? “I’m sorry?” Obviously...I choked on the words, I had nothing else to say. I put a hand for in the middle of his back, then around his shoulders, just...trying to help, however I could. While neither of us moved so much as an inch, my mind was running a million miles an hour…
"Did you...call the police? Put a report in? Anything?”
The littlest shift of his head from side to side...that was the only reaction I got at first. He didn’t even look up at me, he kept his face buried against his legs, and when he eventually spoke...it was muffled, and quiet, and mixed with sobs.
"They won’t...take it seriously. It’s...it’s wrestling, it’s...’part of the show.’”
All of a sudden, he shifted...and instinctively, again, I flinched--I didn’t mean to, and I certainly didn’t want to jeopardise getting my friend back by that reaction...but I know I flinched. Before I knew what happened, though, he’d practically wrapped himself around me, clinging about as tightly as he could to me, crying into my shoulder.
”It’s my fault...I shouldn’t have let her be here...and now...now…”
He couldn’t say anything else...and frankly, he didn’t have to. The ending to that sentence was clear: now, she’s missing. Now, someone took her. Now...the family reunion that had just taken place was cut short. I glanced over toward him, reaching a hand up to place it on the back of his head, leaning my own against his for a second.
I had to do something...
Anything...to help…
“I’ll call…”
I thought about clarifying...but who else would I call?
“Won’t tell them where it happened...why it happened...just that she’s gone, yeh? No way they made it far...they’ll find her."
I had to be the level-headed one...I had to be. After everything that had happened, he deserved the release...but how do you stay confident, making a promise like that? How do you stay confident with that statement, knowing that there’s a good chance they WON’T find her?
However you do that...I had to find a way. For the moment...all I could do was keep him held close, sighing to myself a little bit and letting him get everything out.
-----------------
Overnight flights are bad enough by themselves...especially when you don’t sleep, you’ve been awake for that long and even while everyone else crashes, you sit awake in some cramped, tiny seat, just trying to get comfortable. But having to catch an overnight flight, knowing someone I care about--and regardless of what I did to her, regardless of whether she knows it or not, I do still care about her--is in trouble...it’s a totally helpless feeling. I couldn’t shut my mind off, I stared out the window the entire flight, watching, first, the lights of New York City as we flew over...then the waves of the Atlantic for the rest of the flight. At least...the rest of the flight that I could see anything.
Between having to console Chaz, having to worry about Christina, and not wanting to be apart from Lacey, the flight seemed to last forever. I’m sure it was no longer than the normal flights, 6-8 hours or so, but it felt like it lasted forever. I tried to entertain myself, I tried to distract myself, but no matter what I put on...no matter the movie I watched, the music I listened to, or if I tried to get to sleep...nothing helped. Nothing slowed the thoughts down.
Was there more I could’ve done? I called the police while I was waiting for a cab, but was there something else I could’ve done in the mean time? Some...clue I should’ve seen, something else I should’ve noticed?
Was it my fault, despite what Chaz started to realize? Would she have been there if I’d stopped Lacey in the first place? She had come with me to a show before...it wouldn’t be out of the question for her to fly to the States with me…
And what do I say when I get home? Do I tell Lacey about all of it, wind her up about Chaz even more? Do I tell her I do feel like I’m at least partly to blame, and imagine that reaction from an ocean away? Or do I keep it to myself...and already start with the secrets between us?
I’ve never been so thankful for a chaotic schedule than I was this week...despite running on no sleep, having two matches in a 24 hour period, I was never more thankful for it than I was this week. It gave me a release...I got a lot of my aggression out. But when the last bell for FRONTIER rang, after I watched a small Japanese girl drink a rugger under the table, I was back in the same situation...alone, in a small room, with only my thoughts for company.
I thought about calling her. I knew, by then, she’d be asleep, but I thought about it anyway...I needed to hear a voice that actually cared about me, a voice that wasn’t yelling, shouting instructions, or just...grunting with the impact of a move. I needed to hear that everything was going to be okay, that I was overthinking it and it would all be sorted soon…
But, in the end...I didn’t. I didn’t want to wake her up. Even in the mindset I was in...I couldn’t be that selfish. Even when I needed it the most, I still put everyone else ahead of myself.
In hindsight...terrible idea…
First, Alexis Terry shows up…I’d never met the woman, never even spoken to her, but the mere mention of her name brought the twitch back to my eye. Literally nothing I’ve ever heard about the woman is positive...and everything I’ve seen from her is, essentially, begging Lacey to take her back; “ditch your current girl and get back with me.” It might be hypocritical of me to get angry about that, given the circumstances…
It didn’t change the reaction.
Lacey insisted she made it clear to her that getting back together wasn’t an option--because it’s always that simple with someone who once said “don’t get over the past, get under me.” Even after being told we were dating, she still kept on “oh, you should tell her what we did,” or “we should meet up, it’ll be fun!” The thought that she was still in contact...the fact that she had the audacity to ask for something, after treating both me and Lacey the way she has...thank god I was an ocean away.
I would not have been as polite as Lace was.
After she explained that it was legitimate, Alexis was only asking for help and that they wouldn’t even actually see each other, I settled down a little bit...took a breath...being that far away when something like that comes up, though, I could only imagine it wasn’t going to be as simple as it sounded.
Nothing, of late, was EVER as simple as it sounded…
Enter: Ashe Draven.
A “team meeting” after FanFest on Friday...with at least 2 people who very publicly dislike the woman I’m dating...and I can’t imagine they’ll have too strong of affection for anyone she cares for, either. I don’t know enough about the man known as “Genocide” to say what his opinion may or may not be…but I couldn’t help but expect a similar opinion, spoken or not…
A “team meeting” with someone who once asked if I needed a rain coat to avoid “being bathed in my girlfriend’s blood.” The same man who’s been tormenting Lacey with images of her dead ex...the same man who’s been doing his best to prey on past emotions…
Every ounce of paranoia and dread that I felt when Terry emerged...I can only imagine to what level it was amplified for Lacey when Ashe started bringing him up; I can only imagine, from the stories she’s told me, the level of anger...or terror...or whatever it may be that built up just from the THOUGHT that he might still be walking around.
And that one statement...the one that twisted the knife…
"Should we tell Mia you’ll be back in his bed before too long? Poor girl…”
An ocean away, after everything I’d put up with over the weekend...it was too much. I did everything but threw my phone across the room...thank god I was staying by myself that night; I tried to play it cool, at least with Lacey, when we talked about it...but it was all I could do to contain myself. Changed the topic as soon as I could get away with it, did my best to just hold steady...but I knew it wouldn’t last long. I knew it wouldn’t hold. And no sooner did we stop talking, did the flood of tears burst out. I disappeared under the blanket of my hotel room, a pillow over my head so nobody would hear…
And I’m supposed to trust the man. I’m supposed to trust him, at least for two matches, with my own safety...let alone anything else; I’m supposed to believe he won’t stick a knife in my back the moment I look away, just for his own entertainment or the next phase of whatever plan he’s got cooked up.
I don’t know anything about Nova or Genocide, personally, but I’d seen and heard enough about Ashe in the past few weeks to know that I wasn’t sure I wanted to be within plain sight of the man, let alone close enough to be having a casual conversation. The mere fact that he and I were drafted to the same team led me to distrust the entire lot...I couldn’t help it. When your first interaction with a man is a threat...you don’t tend to trust anything with him associated…
It made the mere thought of meeting up with these people--these people that most likely would sooner end me than put any amount of faith in me--something that filled me with dread...but for some reason, I still agreed. For some reason, I still agreed to attend this...team meeting, whatever Draven had planned here. I still agreed...maybe because I know I’m the Black Sheep of the group. I know I’m the outsider--I’m new, I’m young, and I’m involved with Lacey. Everything they don’t want in a partner, I’m sure…
You only get the name “Genocide” for one reason, I can’t imagine what he’ll do when time comes that the rules are thrown out the window...one of the best Extreme Champions, if not the very best, in ECWF history...and, frankly, a maniac who, if you believe the rumours going around, has his hands dirtier than maybe the rest of professional wrestling combined...three people that couldn’t possibly be any more different than myself...
Coming up against a bitter, disillusioned developmental starlet that can’t wrap her head around competing when the lights turn on...the United States Champion, by hook or crook, that seems more likely to knock her own teammates the fuck out just for the fun of it than go after anyone on my side...the man she beat for that title, one of the few in this place who’s actually been civil with me...and, frankly, a guy I could only describe as a bloody mutant. I didn’t know they MADE people this big...
So that’s the gist of it--I don’t trust anyone I’m teaming with...and we’re standing across the ring from a quartet of people whose closest semblance of a bond is two of them have the same last name. In truth, I don’t know which team to fear the most: Spirit’s, who have a couple people who could squash my head like a fucking grape if they got the impulse to...or my own, should we win the tournament, who seem like they’d be more keen to slit my throat just to see Lacey’s reaction than actually let me make it into the Chamber...
Still...
There is something to be said for professional obligation...regardless of who the World Champion currently is, regardless of who it may be come Revolution...I have to put it aside. I have to ignore my personal life...and focus on the job at hand, and my job at the moment...is to get my team in as good a position as possible to dethrone...whoever. Lacey herself, or if they dig someone up who can do it ahead of Revolution...
After three matches in this company...three matches, three wins, and I’ll step into a match that gets me a shot at a World Championship. Three wins...last show, this show, and the next...and I step into the ring with a World Title on the line...potentially with someone I care about.
I have no idea what happens if I make it into that structures. I have no idea what happens if I’m standing across the ring from Lacey in that match. I have no idea what happens if I’m face to face with Draven...or with Nova...or with Genocide...I have no idea what happens if I get in a match like that, with a World Championship on the line...
But my job...is to get myself, and my teammates, into the Elimination Chamber. My job is to get myself into that match and figure out what happens from there. My job...is to take on that challenge...
Where we go from there...well...
I guess we cross that bridge when it comes.
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