+ Blood And Water; Slaughter +
May 28, 2020 11:35:11 GMT -5
Blair Buchannan-Stylez and Sahara like this
Post by codeapathy on May 28, 2020 11:35:11 GMT -5
The price of your greed
Is your son and your daughter
What you gon' do
When there's blood in the water?
Grandfather - Blood // Water
++Pigs blood. xSxAxMx clearly favored Carrie growing up. It was a classic after all. He also clearly admired a few certain serial killers but who was I to judge. My only question was what did I have to do with Damon and what the fuck did I care if he lied? Damon was fucking nobody to me and taking me out of my own match wasn’t going to mean shit to Damon. Did Sam think that stunt would affect Damon in some way? That seeing me of all people covered in blood and battered would move him in some fashion? He was mighty fucking wrong. If it was about using innocent bystanders to tell the world that Damon lied. Guess what, Damon doesn’t fucking care about innocent bystanders if he lied. Maybe attack a little more close to home next time if you want to move him a little and make him think about his lies. Leave me the fuck out of it. I’ve seen enough blood in my life. I don’t need to be reminded you sick fuck++
“Do you ever think about it?”
Elizabeth: You’re a fucking therapist, why do you play the pronoun game?
“Apologies. Do you ever think about Cage?”
Elizabeth: In what context?
“In any context.”
Elizabeth: On the anniversary of Fionn’s death I think about him. On that day I swear I can smell the blood and the brain matter. The gun powder and smoke. I can still hear the sound of the bone from his skull breaking when the bullet went through from one side to the other. I can hear it lodging in the wall. The sound his body made when it hit the floor. I can still remember the way it twitched for a few seconds before he finally mercifully fucking died. I even remember the smell of piss and shit mixing with the pinesol on the fresh cleaned floor. Does that answer your question?
“Yes. In a lot of vivid detail. You have never shown any regret for what happened.”
++I have had the same therapist for years. Periodically she would bring this up. Never around the same time. Always randomly. I guess she always hoped for a different answer. As I laid on the leather couch, an aroma mister puffing lavender into the office and the sounds of autumn breezes playing, my eyes rolled into the back of my head, again. I exhaled, sharply and with an essence of annoyance as I brought my knees up, crossing my ankles++
Elizabeth: And I never fucking will. He made his choice. He made his bed and I made him lie in it. That was his daughter and while she was drawing her last breaths on morphine he was fucking some whore. I have nothing to apologize for. No reason to feel sorry. She asked for her dad up until her last minutes, when it dawned on her daddy wasn’t coming all she said was “it’s okay mama, he’s probably really busy, I know he’s here in spirit”. The fuck he was. The biggest mistake he made was actually showing up the next morning after she died. He shoulda stayed in California with that cunt. If he had, maybe he wouldn’t have been so overcome with grief he killed himself….
“Elizabeth. You know that I am bound by patient doctor privilege. You are also protected by double jeopardy. You can say it.”
Elizabeth: You believe I pulled the trigger too. I didn’t. He pulled it. He put the .44 to his head and pulled it. My only crime was I coaxed him along. Gave him a little incentive. The truth hurts. Especially when your ego is fragile, your daughter just died and reality hits you in the face at 500 miles a fucking hour.
“Explain it to me Elizabeth. Set me straight.”
++For a moment it was like I was back in Boston. Sitting in a courthouse in front of a jury of my peers listening to a DA give evidence painting a picture of a grief stricken ex-wife who saw an opportunity and who had motive to finally finish off her ex-husband. Except there was no will. No money involved. And my very high priced attorney very skillfully argued that if I was that grief stricken, since I had full custody of my daughter that after killing him I would not have called 911, but would have taken my own life. The jury very wisely agreed. Now here I was having to go through another explanation, only in more lurid detail without worrying about a jury. I looked past my therapist and stared at her massive fish tank. Watching the exotic fish bob and meander through the tank++
Elizabeth: That bitch couldn’t be faithful to anyone. It was in her DNA. Willa was a whore, plain and simple. Devon was my cousin and he was in love with her. So was Cage. The baby she was carrying wasn’t Cage’s. It was Devon’s. Cage was shooting blanks. When I got pregnant with his son, he got injured. Started using roids. Used em long enough that he started shooting blanks. I never told him. I didn’t have the heart. We were splitting anyways after the miscarriage. He showed up the morning after Fionn died. Crying crocodile fucking tears. Came into her old bedroom where I was. Bawling his eyes out with some sob story about how he couldn’t get a flight. It was all a line of bullshit. I knew where he was. Her roommate told me. I confronted him. We had it out. That’s when I told him that all his time spent with her was for nothing. That the baby he was planning for wasn’t even his. I kept the results from back when and threw them in his face. Told him who the baby actually belonged to. His best friend. My cousin. That his only child. The only child he would ever have was about to be buried and he missed her last breaths for a fucking two timing whore. It hit him all at once. I just stood there, laughing. I was cackling like a crazy woman. I had intended to kill myself after the funeral. The gun was on the bed. I casually picked it up and handed it to him and said; “what do you have left to lose? What do you have left to live for?”. I told him he couldn’t go back to her. Not knowing what he knew. That she was probably with Devon right now. It was too late to make things right with Fionn. With me. I hated the ground he walked on. I told him he was so pathetic in my eyes I wouldn’t even dirty my own hands by killing him. I told him he was a failure as a man, a father and a husband and he was such a poor lover that Willa left him for his best friend and the next thing I knew…..bang. I calmly sat down on the side of the bed, called 911 and told them my ex-husband killed himself.
“Very clever. You DIDN’T actually pull the trigger. You emotionally manipulated him into doing it himself. You used a mix of truth and cruelty to get revenge. Do you think your daughter would have approved?”
Elizabeth: Do you think my daughter didn’t know her father was a piece of shit? She did. Fionn was a very bright girl. She had a very shitty mother and a very piss poor father and she grew up very fast and died very painfully and very young. I never hid from her that her dad abandoned the both of us. That he knocked me up and left me with a roll of cash in a pay by the week motel so he could go chase his dream of fighting. I never hid from her that I was young, and stupid and rebellious and got myself knocked up because I came from a fucked up family that I resented and I wanted no part of and he promised me a life away from money and prestige and all the fancy rich people shit I grew to hate. If I was a better woman, a stronger woman a wiser woman I would have given her up for adoption. I wasn’t. I was stubborn and blinded by anger and rage and bitterness. She looked just like him and I made up my mind by hell or high water I would find him and he would look at her at least once to see what he left behind.
“That still doesn’t answer the question. Do you think she would have approved of what you did?”
++She wasn’t there the times when I had to hold Fionn while she screamed that she hated him. Or wailed and asked why he didnt love her. She didn’t have kids. She chose not to have them. It was easy for her to ask those types of questions because she never had to be in those types of compromising positions. I sat up, calmly, leaned back on the chaise lounge and crossed my legs, narrowing my eyes++
Elizabeth: You know what you bitch? Probably not, but she was already cold and dead so I didn’t really have a chance to ask her before I did it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. For every birthday missed. Every lie told. Every tear she cried because of his bullshit. It seemed like a fitting end for a man that wasn’t there for his daughter who asked for him on her deathbed clutching the most precious thing he ever got her. Put your degree aside for a minute, put yourself in my place and ask yourself if you wouldn’t have done the same damn thing. You don’t have to answer but ask yourself.
“Fair enough. Do you think losing her made it easier for you to terminate your later pregnancies?”
Elizabeth: My failure as a mother made it easier to terminate my later pregnancies. My poor choice in men made it easier to terminate my later pregnancies. My fear of waking up covered in massive amounts of blood, made it easier to terminate my later pregnancies. The fear of losing my red hot career made it easier to terminate my later pregnancies. The memory of all of the women I traveled with who I had to take to GET abortions from one night stands or having to sleep their way on to the card or getting raped, made it easier. Once you bury a child you are scared as hell of having another. When I miscarried my son, with Cage, there was so much blood. I was covered in it, the bed was covered it look like a slaughter. I couldn’t get my period for months after that without getting physically ill and vomiting or breaking down crying. If you are asking me if it was easy to terminate the baby I had with Bel, it wasn’t. It was the first I had since Cage. I really loved Bel but there was no point in bringing that child into the world when he hated me. Then of course the procedure didn’t go as planned and they said I would never conceive again and I was quite relieved….
“Except baby Annika happened…..”
Elizabeth: That was a fucking shit show. I should have called it quits then. I could have just walked away, raised my daughter and faded into obscurity but...no. The high profile of who the father was put me in the spotlight and I just didn’t have the will to walk away. I loved the business too much. I could be anything I want to be and I choose to do this. But at the same time I have gotten to travel the world. I have gotten to see things, experience things that a normal life, if I would have retired and settled down, would never have afforded me. You asked me very recently why I still do this. You said I am in a position where I don’t need too that I am honestly at a point in my life where I have achieved all I can and that I need to find new avenues to live my life. I disagree. The business is ever evolving. Always changing. It never stays the same. There is always something new. At least the people and the landscapes change. I’ve been doing this a lot of years. Most of the people I knew are gone now. Moved on, retired, or sadly deceased. There’s new faces. I mean not all the rhetoric has changed. A lot of things have been rehashed. That comes with the territory. You can only go so far before gimmicks get recycled. This chick Sahara is a great example of that. She’s Blair Buchannan lite basically. Except she has half the talent and charisma. I believe the line was “you didn’t belong here before and you don’t belong here now”. Yet, people know who I am and she just fucking rolled in from a Hollywood backlot. It actually sounds like she found an old script from Fury because she used that same rehashed old line too. Oh and she dusted off that old tried and true apathetic gag. Like we haven’t heard that shit a million times. I wish I wasn’t expecting it but I was. I’m not saying its disappointing I am just saying that someone who comes on so strong with such a super inflated ego would be way more creative and bar raising.
I don’t doubt her physical talent one bit. I am sure whatever she lacks in creative prowess she more than makes up in physical talent. Which counts for most everything. You don’t have to be creative to make a match look good. You just have to be good in the ring. Truth is I don’t care if she rolled in from Hollywood or bumfuck Egypt, if she did this for a decade got bored, did a movie and then came back to make everyone who ever watched a grappling move remember her name. I don’t care if she won a fucking a Oscar. She’s just another name, another body, another stiff to put on a show with. She’s a glamour girl that’s super high on herself that puts everyone down to make herself look better. Except Blair looks better and does it better, so Sahara will just have to settle for being second best at something.
“Don’t mind me. You know I love when you talk shop. That’s what these sessions also serve for. Not just your homicidal coping mechanisms. It helps me better understand why you do what you do. I have other clients that are in your line of work so the more I hear the better I understand. It’s also quite fascinating.”
Elizabeth: Now Necra...there’s someone fascinating. Bella Muerte. Beautiful Death. A very interesting woman with some very interesting stories about her. Some say a mistress of death others an elder goth who dabbles in the dark arts. I can appreciate and respect a woman who maintains an air of mystery and fear about herself. I mean either she really can steal your soul right our of your god damn body or she knows how to sell herself to a fucking crowd and either way I respect it. I’m not saying I believe she can chant a few words and suddenly your soul is in an amulet but I’m also not saying I’m about to start splitting hairs about old religions. I have watched black voodoo, I’m a practicing pagan. Those in glass houses don’t throw stones. Truth be told? I want to see what this woman is made of. I want to see what she is capable of in that ring. Sahara is a braggart and a contradiction. I want to know if Necra is a prophet or a hexer. Does she curse you or does she let you decide your own fate? Is she merciful to those who show her respect or is she ruthless? The curiosities are boundless. For Necra. Not Sahara. Sahara is pretty much a one page note. Stifling, arrogant, bleach blonde, rinse, wash, repeat. She’s wrong you know….
“Now look who is playing the pronoun game….”
Elizbeth: Touche. Sahara. She’s wrong. I belong. Necra belongs. We all belong. Even she does. We all play a part. We all have a role. The only ones who don’t belong are the ones who don’t want to be here. The ones who don’t care who just put in the time and collect the paycheck. If you don't love this business, love what you do, you don’t belong. I stayed because I loved it. It’s different now. I spent the majority of my career fighting a battle within myself. I ruined my life, my career, my friendships, my relationships all because I had a demon inside of me that I didn’t know the name of and I couldn’t control it. I didn’t get to enjoy the high spot of my career because I woke up everyday wanting to die. I didn’t get to relish in my achievements because I hated myself. You say I have achieved all there is to achieve I disagree because now I want to enjoy my achievements. I want to enjoy my career. What is left of it. People can say what they want. They can take their jabs and poke their fun at my ring name. I’ve heard it for over 10 years now. I have the luxury of not getting emotionally invested anymore because I have a name for the demon inside. Sahara is just another uppity blonde bitch. Woo! Necra is just another mystical woman that I want to learn more about. At the end of the day, I have no qualms with either of them. I just want to get to know them in the ring and put on a good match. That is my main goal every week. Because I have to travel with these women. I have to share a locker room with em. I always made it personal and forgot I had to see em the next week in a different city, in a different locker room, after being a complete cunt. They want to carry that awkward burden? Cool. Not me. I’m too old for that shit.
Though can I be honest about one thing? I REALLY want to know what Damon lied about! I got covered in blood because of that mother fucker!