Conversation with the Heater
Scene One | On-Camera
Alex had taken her as a plus one to the Triad pre-draft party. They’d been attempting to spend more time with each other. Despite how much she loved him, there was just this part of her at the moment that just didn’t want to be there. It wasn’t even directly Alex’s fault. It was a want to be away from everyone. From Alex, from Jimmy, from Ariana. From everyone. Instead she was dressed to the nines, all feathered up to match Alex. And she had spent a whole hour there before she couldn’t hack it any longer.
“I’m going home Lexi. Have a good night.”
He didn’t even hear her. It didn’t matter. She just wanted to be alone. A long walk back to their actual hotel. They’d never intended to stay at the Hotel California. She didn’t really like Penelope all that much. The whole place just gave her a weird feeling. A long path through a dark park. Low-lit. A dangerous place for a woman alone some would say. She’d be inclined to agree if she didn’t know herself. The little scrapper that she was. A man was sitting on a bench. A familiar looking man. The plain brown suit, the white undershirt. She smiled, despite the strangeness of it.
“Harry, baby. Is that you?”
The man looked up, a slight smile on his weary face. A sad man, something weighing heavy on his shoulders. She’d always liked Harrison. She’d always like Sullivan too. But she related far more to Harry. Someone brought for the looks, rather than the brains. He patted the seat next to him. Ignoring the bizarreness of it all, and her urge to be by herself. Luna sat next to him, crossing one leg over the other, and sighed. She felt like tonight was going to be a longer one than she wanted.
“Sul, cut me off. Twenty years, and he just cut me off like a cancer, Lulu. Farewell, good luck. Not even a gift of thanks.”
Those words cut through her. There had always been one constant in their world. Pleasant and Rines. Old school guys with old school mentalities. The guys who had done what needed doing whenever it was asked. They’d gone through a rough patch back when they first met Alex, James and herself. It was the reason they’d all become… friends? Friends for the most part, though Sullivan had always been more a business associate. Harrison had been a wrestler himself, way back. He’d always claimed he wasn’t worth much in the ring. But the guy was unbelievable to watch between the ropes. Moved like a gymnast, and hit like a truck.
Sully was never much of a fighter. Mouth-piece that got things done. They’d been a good combo, though Harrison did have a habit of choking in the big moments. As the years went on, Sullivan moved them from the ring to some more illicit activities. Old school mob types were the best way to describe them. Guys who got things done. They’d always been together. Alex had pulled them out of a rut and put them back on a path. So to hear that Sullivan had cut him free. It just didn’t seem possible.
“I’m so sorry Harry. What happened, sugar?”
Harrison sighed and placed his hands on his knees, gripping them slightly. He leaned back against the bench, and looked up into the sky. He breathed in deeply and shook his head. Wetness to his eyes. A hurting man.
“Said that… he’d just moved on. That his heart wasn’t in it anymore. I’d put my life on hold for that man. I did everything to try and make him happy. To try and prove that the time and money invested was worthwhile. I had done everything, and now there is nothing. The worst part? There ain’t no fucking Alexander to fix it this time. As fucking stupid as that your boyfriend can be. As dense and as fucked up as everything that happens around him. He at least was able to pull Sul out of this ruts. Out of his addictions. Out of his mistakes. And now? Nothing.”
It was bizarre, when she thought about it. All of them had been intrinsically linked to Alex. They’d always said it. The broken children, following their leader. Their Messiah. It was kind of fucked up, really. It was almost like a cult. Yet here they were, with Alex no longer leading, and everything was falling apart. And it made part of her bubble with a frustration she hadn’t felt in a long time. She was finally finding her own feet. Yet in doing so, she had never felt more alone. Sullivan and Harrison were going their separate ways. James and her weren’t speaking. Alex was losing his mind slowly, and drifting further away.
“So what are you going to do Harry? What’s next? Please. Tell me what is next.”
Her own voice caught in her throat. The reality of what was happening was really dawning on her. Their lives were about to change forever. And she had no control. She’d done everything to take control, and now she was without it again.
“I think I’m going to go home. Move back to the UK. Find somewhere happy and quiet in Ireland, and just… just be me for a little bit. I’m sorry Lulu. I adore you, truly. But, I need to get away from you all. You should too. It’s a fucking black hole that we live in.”
Harry reached over and gave one of her hands a squeeze, before he slowly stood up. Smoothing out his sleeves and adjusting his waist. He slipped his hands into his pockets and turned looking off into the distance.
“I know you didn’t want to know. But, I think you deserve to, Lu. We played with Alex’s head. At his request. It was like… it was a kind of hypnotism, I guess. MK Ultra stuff, if you want to get real weird with it. But, we went in. Planted a switch, if you will. ‘Leon is Dead’ was the trigger. Don’t hate him for losing his mind. He couldn’t have known the truth that would have come out of it. That boy… he’s always just skirting the truth. I hate him, but you don’t. And I don’t want to see either of you hurting as a result. Love him, and help him. He’ll help you too.”
Luna looked at Harrison, through watery eyes. The tap of his shoes as he walks away. Luna leaned back on the bench and breathed in deeply.
And then she screamed.
And she screamed.
And she screamed.
Like a banshee wailing, she continued to scream and cry. Every little bit of frustration. Every little bit of anger, upset and fear. Everything just boiled and bubbled to the surface. And she just wanted to cry, and scream and wail. To tear down the world for being so horrifically unfair. To be sad and allowed to be sad. Yet here she was. Unable to do anything but scream.
So she did.
She screamed.
An Angel is Falling
Scene Two | On-Camera
“Call it prophecy, call me the Idol that I fucking am. Last week I said that it would come down to you and me babygirl. And it did. I said that it would come down to you and me, and no matter what. No matter what it took, I would be the winner. That wasn’t a challenge, that was a suggestion. That was a fucking fact. A fact of fate and I proved that right. I walked out the Bombshell Internet Champion. The little whore that could. The doubters felt like they could out-think, out-wrestle and out-talk me. And then exactly as I fucking said, they all fell down and failed. Vargas with a disappointing 30th main event. Zoey Lukas falling into further obscurity. Kat Jones proving she should have stayed the fuck home. Seleana with another notch of failure for her failing family name. Not even sure why Marlowe showed up, but there she was. Tempest is still just a miserable little rain cloud, that is half the fighter she once was.”
“Then there's you and me Ariana. The only two that had anything to actually prove, and fucking did it. You and I are going straight to the moon, and beyond. The women of the inevitable future, pushing out the has-beens and never-wills. You and me, angel, we’re going to take the world by fucking storm. And there is only one thing you need to do, sweetheart.”
“Lose.”
Shimmering emerald waters, a cave entrance, the sun high in the sky. Luna is sort of lounging in a kayak. Alexander Raven is straining away, red in the face and looking wildly out of breath as he attempts to steer the Kayak through the waters of the Vegas Emerald Caves. The waters lapping lightly, the gorgeous green reflecting onto the rock faces and even onto the people on the water.
“Now, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I truly do believe in you babygirl. I believe in what you’ve been working toward. I have done my utmost to show you every bit of love and care. But the truth of it is, when it comes down to it. At the end of every road the outcome between us remains the same. I will do whatever I need to do, to not be just another transitional champion. I will beat in the face of every insufferable cunt who steps into my path to ensure that I am no longer looked down upon. That every single person that laughed and sneered at Luna Pasilno will be made to eat their own fucking tongue. And unfortunately, sweet girl. Despite my adoration for you, despite my love and care for the friendship we’ve fostered in the face of your adversity, doubt and depression. Despite it all, I have unending faith in your future. But, like all great things. Adversity must mould them, and you are still in need of some shaping. But let me tell you a story, lover. Let me tell you about why I know what it is like to have the world turn on you. Why I know personally what it is like to have people tell you how to act and behave, how to be and change. Let me tell you all about me, so you can understand why I know you. At the end of the day, I’m still a vain bitch.”
Alex mumbles something under his breath, catching the slap of a hand to the back of his head. ‘Shush you.’, proceeding to almost lay out on the kayak back itself. Groaning, he continues to paddle, beginning to veer off to the left. Luna is in a simple white sundress, with an array of coloured flowers all over it. Her hair is tied up in a loose bun, strands of hair cascading down and around her shoulders.
“I touched on it last week. See, I grew up with the world telling me what kind of person I was. The whore with the gay brother. That was the story of my upbringing. Shunned because I was happy enough to love who I loved, and because my brother James happened to not like girls like they all thought he should. So what do we do? We continue to live our lives, happy and free. Loving who we wanted. Problematically, I decided to make some mistakes. I put myself down a path of excitement and danger. Leaving comfort and happiness for the sake of fun and experience. Alcohol, drugs, sex. It was all just par for the course. Instead of battling against the accusations of the know-it-alls, I gave in. I became the emotional whore they wanted. I watched as my world crumbled as a result of my actions. I pushed everyone away, and allowed myself to fall into that pit. Fall into the whole of addiction and pain. The Masochist was born, because I enjoy the agony that I inflicted. The only reason I ever came back, was the idea of dying due to my arrogance was just a little too much for me. And so I reached out to my sweet brother. The light in my world, and he dragged me back to the real world.”
“Helped me get sober. Helped me get back into the life of my friends. But the one boy I hurt, he was no longer just waiting for me. That sweet boy had moved on. And I suffered as a result. I suffered because I had done everything to ignore the words of those around me. To follow my own path. To be my own person. This isn’t some story to tell you are wrong in what you are doing. To back-step on everything I’ve been saying to you for the last few months. No, quite the contrary. Despite the fact that I needed to get clean, I needed to come back to reality. To escape the abuse, and find my friends again. I wouldn’t change what I did for anything. I wouldn’t change my actions, I wouldn’t change my behaviour. I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Because I needed to be free to make my mistakes. I needed to be free to learn, to be sad. To be hurt and to see the face of death and decide I didn’t want to be the one to give into it. I needed those opportunities to be wrong, so that I could be right when I finally found my way. And I have found my fucking way, lover. I have found a path to a better tomorrow, and that better tomorrow exists in my standing on my own two feet. The self-love that I have. I am the fucking IDOL, Ariana. And as much as I love and adore you.”
Luna leaned over the edge of the kayak, dragging her fingers through the water, sighing heavily. Alex slowly stopped paddling and came to stop. They were now inside one of the beautiful emerald caves. The waters that perfect shade of green, the walls twinkling with the lovely light. He leans back a little, sort of laying out as they bobbed slowly on the water’s surface.
“No one is going to stop me from being the biggest bitch in this division. As much as I love and adore you, sweet thing. I will break every bone in your fucking body if I need to. Because I will not be walked over. I will not be stepped on. I will not be shit on for being unapologetically myself. I am a callous, cold-hearted bitch, Ariana. I will love you, but I promise I will fucking break you too. If I have to screw you out of a win, I will screw you out of a win. I have no desire to play clean and fair. I am the Idol and the Masochist. I am the Bombshell Internet Champion of Sin City. And when it comes to High Stakes. When it comes down to you or me, I promise you. I fucking promise you, that it will be me every single time. That’s not a suggestion. That’s not a challenge. That’s a fucking statement. That’s the truth. That is prophecy, because what I say into the world is manifested into inevitable truth. For I am the inevitable future of Sin City. Everyone will feel the impact of The Idol Luna Pasilno. You just have the unfortunate task of being the first. The first to fall, the first to stumble and the last to understand. That I love you, but you are not that bitch.”
“So let’s sign this off. With a moment of happiness, a moment of peace. A moment of actual love. Here in this place of beauty, these emerald caves, these perfect green waters. I see you as a gem, sweetheart. Not quite a diamond, but beautiful nonetheless. For diamonds imply perfection. Perfection under pressure. Turning coal into something immaculate. Nobody is that perfect, and nobody ever will be. No, the best we can hope for, is to become the gemstones of life. Of happiness, of peace. To be the jade that soothes the soul. The rubies that glitter on the pristine porcelain skin of the skanks who would scoff at our aggression. The sapphires that dangle from the jewelled ears of the far too well off. To be the emeralds who were mined by the blood of those who are taken advantage of. I am an emerald in this world. Paid for in blood. Paid for in agony, and mistreated as a result. I am the perfection of the imperfect. I am the cool, green bitch. And you’re just a simple piece of quartz. Pretty to look at, nice to own. A perfect little mantlepiece stone. But nothing of substance. Just another geode tossed to the gift shops and knick knack collectors. You can be something special one day. I’m sure of it, my sweet angel. But right now? You’re just another stone to my collection.”
Luna smiles, as she leans forward. Threatening to tip the kayak, but keeping it steady. She leans over Alex, who appears to have started to take a nap. A light kiss to his lips, her arms draping over him. A moment of peace, of contentment. The sun kissing both of their flesh a pinkish tinge. Smiles.
“I’m surrounded by love, Ariana. Don’t you think it is time for you to be surrounded by it too?”
And then…
Emerald Lovers
Scene Three | Off-Camera
“You’re a bit of bitch, you know that?”
She simply smiled, a slight laugh. Another light kiss. A moment of peace. The irony of everything was that their moments alone were her happiest lately. As much as she just wanted to be alone. To be allowed to stay at home, to stay by herself. To wallow in her momentary misery and listen to True Crime documentaries. Their moments out and about, their dates. They were something special. Thoughtful, unique. For the first time in a while, this felt peaceful.
But she couldn’t help but remember her conversation with Harry. Alex was one to do many things to help himself succeed. That wasn’t what really bothered her. If he wanted to Fight Club himself, that was on him. She wasn’t even bothered so much by the idea of him hallucinating dead person’s of his past. Which was surprising to herself more than anything.
No she was bothered that Harry had spent so long telling her to love Alex. There wasn’t much friendship between Alex and Harrison, so it stuck out. Did he even know about the Sullivan situation? Did he know that all of his friends were falling apart around him?
“Did you hear about Sully and Harry?”
Alex sighed. A pained look crossed his features, he sat himself up, her arms still draped over his shoulders. Her chin resting on his shoulder. It would seem he did know. And it wasn’t a particularly pleasant thought.
“Sullivan is making a mistake. There isn’t another person in this world that would put up with him. Letting go of that leash is bad for him. Harrison will be fine. Of everyone, he is the one I’m least worried about. Where’s he going, do you know? Ireland again?”
It was odd hearing him so… empathetic? Maybe not the right word. It was strange, he obviously seems pained by it, but didn’t seem particularly interested in righting the course. She pulled her arms tighter together, and wrapped them around his neck more so than his shoulders. Her eyes fixed on the water in front of them, the beautiful green ripples.
“Are you okay, Alex?”
He shook his head. It was slight, not much behind it. Just a slight shake, but it was enough. The pang of pain shooting through her heart. The drop in her stomach. She wasn’t okay, but he had been doing whatever he could to make sure she knew he was there for her. With space, with love, affection and everything else between.
“I want you to come home, Lu. I don’t want to wake up from nightmares alone anymore. I don’t want the smell of you to fade from my pillow. I don’t want you to fade from me. I don’t want you to forget me. I don’t want to be Harrison. I don’t want to be Sullivan, or James. Or any of them. I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to fucking hurt. I want to be okay. I want to be happy, I want to exist. I need to exist, and the only fucking way I exist Lu. The only way.”
He dipped his fingers into the water, on either side of the kayak. Sighing deeply, wiggling his fingers for a moment.
“The only way I exist is if you don’t forget me. I feel like you’re forgetting me.”
Pain. He was in so much pain. Always in pain. She asked for honesty, and yet shunned him for it. She didn’t know why. There was everything in the world in front of them. Coming out of High Stakes, they could be the power couple of Sin City Wrestling. World and Internet Champions respectively. He was in with a chance of uniting the Triad, and he was being recognised by some of the biggest names in the industry. Yet he was hurting for the simple fact that she wasn’t available.
And her heart hurt.
“I’m sorry Lexi. I would never, could never. Forget about you baby. I came back from the brink, not for me. Not for anything but you. For you to see me again. I stood on the sidelines, watching as you were happy. Watching as you got to move on with your life. To shrug off the cape of pain I left in my arrogance. I’m always here Alex.”
He pulled something from his pocket. A small box. He lifted her arms off, and managed to turn himself around. A great feat of balancing in managing to kneel.. The box was held in his hand.
“My mama, she told me to keep hold of this. Of something special. For someone special. I want you to come home Luna. Please, come home.”
He popped the box open. A beautiful necklace inside. An ornate silver bird. A raven. With small little diamonds for eyes. It was beautiful. She remembered it well. His mother wore it every day. A gift from her loving, doting husband. Before substance abuse. Before he turned his fists on his family. A memory of happier times. Not even Lauren had ever been given this.
“Okay.”
He smiled. She smiled. Taking the necklace in hand, she linked it around her own neck. It felt cool, nice and somehow full of love. She was glad it was the necklace, and not a ring. For right now? She probably would have broken his heart. But she could come home, that much she knew.
“I love you, Luna.”
She smiled, placing another kiss to his lips. A moment of peace. A moment of happiness. It would be nice to at least have the familiar scent of whiskey and cigarettes in the bed. His smell of whiskey and cigarettes.
The sun began to dip, and with that the light of the area changed from its bright glowing, to a burning emerald flame. A beautiful sight, for a moment of actual peace. Perhaps one that will be their last.
And then…
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
A Crack in the Glass
Scene One | Off-Camera
Themes include drugs, addiction, suicide, self-harm and depression. Please take care of your own mental health and skip this scene if you feel uncomfortable.
“I remember the days, where it felt like I was floating.”
The boys were out riding horses. Living their best cowboy lives. Luna liked looking at horses, but saddle sores were not her idea of a good time. Actually, she wasn’t really sure what was a good time these days. It wasn’t uncommon to have hard days. Recovery was an on-going process. Once an addict, always an addict. She’d spent years spun out. Ice to bring them up, horse to bring them down, coke to bring them back up, ketamine to mellow out. It felt like she was rolling in honey most days, and when things were good. It was unlike anything else. Things were rarely ever that good.
Chasing a high.
Things were a little different. She’d been clean for a while now. Over five years. They’d all kicked the substances for the most part. Alcohol was the vice. Alcohol would likely always be the vice.
Once an addict.
This morning she’d laid in bed. Her head hurt from a lack of water. Living on the brink of dehydration was a skill she was quite apt at. Living on the edge of life was a skill she’d long spent developing. The girl who spent her whole life self-destructing and hoping that an updraft would catch her before she bottomed out. She was sad. Not just the average sad, but really sad. It was the first time in years that she was yearning to just be free. Free of the day to day, free of the pain. Free of life she was living. She wanted to be floating again. To be buzzing but feeling stuck in honey.
Always an addict.
She poured herself some coffee. One thing she’d never get used to was the shit pot coffee that America seemed so obsessed with. She’d enjoyed it when she was younger, but years spent drinking in nice cafes and bars in Melbourne had really turned the drip stuff into ash on her tongue. Even more so when her head wasn’t in it. Looking out the window, she could see the start of a storm cloud rolling in.
“The world fucking hates us.”
Apathetic. That was the best way to describe how she felt right now. Apathetic, and excruciatingly depressed. Broken children had a habit of staying broken. No amount of medicating, self or otherwise, seemed to help. No amount of talking it out, walking through her mistakes, any of it. None of it helped. She could count her blessings most days. She still had moments of joy. Was still able to laugh and interact like a normal person. Her brain hadn’t been completely fried by the abuse.
But fuck she wished it had.
She rubbed her temple and sat down, sipping quietly at the coffee. Allowing herself to have a moment of peace. She still wasn’t really talking to Jimmy. A point of pride more than anything else. She’d been spending nights at Alex’s apartment again too. But her skin crawled at the thought of being touched at the moment. Every part of her was screaming to be alone. To be allowed to wallow, to eat at her. The little voice in the back of her head. The voice that was hers, but not really.
“Don’t you think it’d be easier if you just gave up? You’re just hurting them by being here.”
She closed her eyes slowly and pinched the bridge of her nose. Shaking her head as the bitter laughter of that dark passenger filled her skull. Made her brain ache. Made her skin itch. She just wanted to get it out of her skin. Get this creature out of her body. She hadn’t even noticed how tightly she was pinching her nose. She didn’t notice how loosely she was holding her cup. She hissed, having accidentally broken skin on her nose. The cup slipping and smashing to the floor. The splash of coffee sizzling at her bare legs. Not hot enough to burn too badly, but enough to be uncomfortable. She breathed heavily, and leaned down not thinking.
One of the shards slicing into her finger. She didn’t even bat an eyelid, just picking the shards up in her bare hands and putting them on the table. Holding a rather large shard. She looked at it, the blood trickling from her fingers. Her nose wet from the small wounds on the bridge of her nose that were also leaking. Letting the darkness that pollutes her mind slowly seep out with the blood. Escaping through the wounds.
Addiction took many forms.
She squeezed slightly harder, the shard digging into her hand. More lacerations appeared. No reaction. She couldn’t feel it. She knew it hurt, but she just watched. Watched as she was cut and the world was numb around her. Begging her to continue cutting. To continue bleeding. To…
The crack of thunder shook her from her daze. She sucked in deeply as she let go. Her hand was pretty badly cut up. She was a moron. So close to such an important match and she was out here nearly maiming herself. Maybe she deserved it though. Maybe she deserved to be at a deficit. To be handicapped walking into that match. Ari had done everything to try and beat her demons. To stand above it all. She was certain of herself. Of the success of what was coming to her. It made her heart hurt to think about being the source of sweet Ariana’s next bout of sadness. No one should be sad.
Alex came through the door. She was sitting there, hand bleeding, nose bleeding, eyes wet from the sadness of her thoughts. He didn’t say anything, he just grabbed a towel and helped her to her feet.
“I don’t know…”
He smiled and shook his head. The sweet boy, not enough asking why. James was outside still, trying to calm the horses as the storm continued to rage on. Alex took her to the bathroom, searching the cabinets for some bandages and antiseptic.
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Lu. You never need to explain.”
She breathed in deeply, watching through distant eyes as he mended her hand. Disinfecting, cleaning and then wrapping. It wasn’t as bad as she had thought. But it was in the creases of her hands and fingers. Sensitive spots that were going to sting when her body finally caught her brain up. She looked at him, and it hurt her soul. Hurt to know she was killing him slowly, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. He just smiled. He always smiled. Never asked for her to get better. To be better. He just… smiled.
“Alex. I wish I was dead.”
His smile fell. His eyes were heavy. She looked upon him, and pressed herself up against the wall. Trying to keep herself up right. He didn’t stop her, he just nodded. And he gave her a warm look. A look of understanding. Of knowing.
“Sometimes, I wish I was too. Hell, I don’t know how many nights I sat there. Sat there thinking about it. About how much easier it would be, if I just took another step. If I gave into those thoughts in my head when I was driving. If I just kept swallowing more and more pills until I couldn’t move anymore. To float on that cloud into tomorrow. Go to sleep and never wake. Sometimes, I wish I was dead too, Lu.”
“How do you stop yourself?”
“I don’t know. Truly, I don’t. Dying scares me just as much as living. I don’t think I could do it to you guys. As much as I hate myself, I don’t think I could do it.”
She looked at him, arms slipping around his waist. James knocked on the door.
“You guys fuckin’? At least wait until I’m asleep, perverts.”
She laughed.
She fucking laughed.
For the first time in weeks. For the first time since she’d fought with everyone. Since she’d started pushing everyone away. She actually laughed. A true, happy laugh. And then he laughed. Alex’s smile was permanent, and she didn’t want to see it fade. She wanted to float. But she’d stay grounded if it meant that he kept smiling.
Addiction takes many forms.
Clean
Scene Two | On-Camera
“Despite appearances. Reality is that I’m not a particularly happy person. I’ve been in and out of therapy for years. Addiction, self-harm. The whole shebang. It’s not a sob story though, lovers. No, this is a little bit more about me. To understand who Luna Pasilno actually is, you need to know the good and the bad. You see, it’s not entirely true that I simply ran off with the bad boy. It’s part of the truth, for sure. Definitely not the whole of it. I liked the way that drugs made me feel. Take that as you will, but I enjoyed how it felt to not be me for a little while. An all day party became an all week party became an all month party became an all year party. My everyday life was just another day of partying and I loved to party. I loved how it felt to just… float.”
“ See, I wanted the world to love me, when I didn’t love myself. A whore to the experience, I enjoyed it all. But, I got clean. I got straight. I have my days. My bad days are just as bad as everyone else's. The only difference is when that monkey climbs on my back it can be hard to fight it off. You see, the thing about addiction is that it’s a disease that isn’t just cured. You treat it, and you continue to treat it. Life doesn’t get better simply by hoping it will. No you need to face that monkey and tell it to fuck right off. Every single day, you need to give that monkey the double birds and tell it where to stick its bullshit. I didn’t do that for a long time. I was content to just… float. To be stuck in the honey of better days, and watch as my brain slowly fried. To forget what sleep was, to lose my teeth and feel the bugs under my skin. I was content to be what I was told I was going to be. A junkie whore who was just like her momma.”
“But, I did see a better life for me. A future. A place where I could be happy without the assistance. Without needing to take some downers to mellow out my uppers. Without needing more uppers because I was strung out too heavily on the downers. No, I took my brother’s hand. And I asked him for help. I asked him to guide me to a better place. To help me help me. That was five years ago, and I’m still fucking clean. That was five years ago, and I’m still the baddest bitch going. That was five years ago, and in that five years I’ve found happiness. A life to live. A place to exist. A fucking skill I didn’t think I’d ever want to get involved in again. I’m more than just the transitional Bombshell Roulette Champion. I’m more than the mistakes of my past, and I am changing for the future.”
“So, Ariana. Sweet angel. I need you to listen closely, and I need you to understand. I need you to understand this isn’t just about being a champion. This isn’t just about needing to prove that I can do it. That I’m not just the woman who holds it for someone else. This is about proving that the woman who got clean, five fucking years ago, is the baddest bitch in all of Sin City Wrestling. I need you to understand sweet angel, that this isn’t personal. You just happen to be the woman who is in the way of my light. And I will take out anyone who stands in my fucking light.”
Delusional Angel
Scene Three | On-Camera
“Let’s talk about history shall we?”
A vanity table. Adorned with lights, many mirrors and an array of different cosmetics. A plain white stool, and on the stool Luna Pasilno. The left half of the table is currently illuminated, the right side of the world bathed in darkness. A calm, happy demeanour. Muted make-up compared to usual, an almost neutral looking Idol. The slightest bit of a smile tugging at the edge of her lips.
“Misdirected anger, sweet girl. I am not the focus of your vitriol, yet you throw it at me like I am what is wrong with your world. That I am what is wrong with your life. I lift and I lift. I support, and I love. I acknowledge and offer guidance, and you spit in my fucking face in response. Maybe I was misdirected in my forgiveness of your insolence? Maybe I was misguided in offering you an olive branch of understanding, if at the very least you took that chance to be introspective. Oh woe is the girl who cried a river and drowned the world. For she is scorned by those who she sees as friends. For she is hated by those she once looked up to. For not giving into her delusions. You want to talk about history, let’s talk about history. Historically, you are a better wrestler than me. Historically, most people who stepped into that battle royal on Climax Control were better than me. Most had more years of experience. More wins, hell, more loses. More championships, lest we talk about the uber failure in Zoey Lukas. Half the competitor she was once seen as, and even lesser than that in the shadow of her better sister. Let’s talk about history, shall we? Our first ever encounter, which you very conveniently forgot walking into Climax Control, need I remind you. Our first encounter was a mixed tag. You beat us. Carter beat Alex more accurately, but you both beat us. You got the win, Carter was destined to be the eventual challenger for Alex’s Internet Championship, yet fate had other things in store. If we talk about history Ariana. I’ve done more in my fucking year, than you have. You want to talk about history? That’s because you’re stuck living in the past baby girl. And let me tell you, lover, you’re going to remain stuck there if you can’t pull your fucking head out of the trench you’ve dug yourself in to.”
“I did everything to help lift you up. I argued with your friends. I fought the cranky old slags who do nothing but spout their infinite wisdom and ignore their own hypocrisy. I did what I needed to do to make you even slightly what you once were. You want to talk about history? You’ve done fuck all since High Stakes last year, and you can do nothing but blame the world for your own short-comings.”
The left side goes dark. The right side lights up. A crying woman. Her tears streaked her make-up down her face. Her face in the ebbs of a whirl of agony. A stark contrast to the neutral woman who sits on the left side of her body. On the left side of the world. The mirrors reflect her sorrow, her upset.
“It pains me, sweet angel. It pains me that I must be the one to show you the fallacy of your belief. The fallacy of your way. You bang on and on about how the false queen who sits atop Sin City, used her wife to screw you. The real question is, why the fuck do you expect anyone to play fair? For the good of sportsmanship? The good of competition? No, my dear. No, there is nothing fair in love and war. And as much as I love you, I need you to understand. If I have to screw you over, to get what I want. I will screw you every day until the end of time to ensure that I stay atop the world where I fucking belong. I never screamed about how unfair my outcomes were. I never cried about being screwed by the world. I didn’t even ask my sweet surrogate fathers, Mark and Christian to enter me into that Battle Royal. No, I did what I needed to do. Got my head straight, and started down a path to redeeming myself. To become that bitch I know I am. That bitch that everyone will learn that I am. To be the lover of the world, and their fucking Idol atop it. My sweet baby angel, I need you to actually look at what is before us. I need you to look at what you’re doing. For you are choosing to push the only person in the world who gives a damn about you. The only person in the world who weeps for your misfortune and understands that fracturing of your mind. But if you continue to spit in my face. To say that our friendship ends because you value a trinket more than the friendship, understanding and love I’ve offered you? You’re breaking my heart, lover. You’re breaking my fucking heart.”
“And if you break my heart, sweet girl? I will do everything to break you. To show you this tirade of anger. This business of hatred, anger and disdain. It all ends here. That High Stakes XIII marks the end of your journey towards salvation. That the last year of your life is nothing but a failure. And maybe this time. Maybe with the fucking knock your skull you’ll remember this time. Maybe this time you’ll acknowledge that my presence exists in your world outside of the important matches. It was bad enough that you forgot our match once. But twice. That’s unforgivable. Do not let the blindness of your arrogant mind lead you to thinking that I will simply allow myself to be slighted for your friendship. I am a vindictive, angry and upset woman. I am the fucking Bombshell Internet Champion for a goddamn reason. If it wasn’t us now, it was going to be Aleesha Jones and I, and I can guaran-fucking-tee it. Because as bad as I am, that mouthy little cunt? She needed to be silenced. And I’m fucking glad she took herself out. Because as much as I intend to hurt you, for your back-handed and upsetting remarks. That bitch needed a fucking reality check.”
She shakes her head slightly, as the lights click off once more. Silence, darkness. Time ticks by. Then another click and the left side is back on. Calm, happy Luna Pasilno. She raises a hand up, running her hand up into her hair, cupping the side of her head somewhat. A soothed look, almost a twinge of a smile.
“See, that is where you and I diverge. I don’t do this for the accolades. For the monikers. I don’t do this so people will look at me and go ‘wow’. People do look at me and go ‘wow’, but that’s for entirely other reasons. You want to talk about stretching the rules? Bending them? Making the rules look like a suggestion? Oh, sweet girl. I never follow the fucking rules. You don’t get to be a sweet, eye-batting thundercunt of a human being, by following the rules. Be nice, be sweet. Knees together and pull your skirt down. Shut your mouth, unless the sweet boys ask you to open it. Be independent, but ensure subservience to another. Oh the world of rules that apply, and not a single one of them meant a fucking thing to me. You want to bend the rules, lover? I’ll bend all the way for you, sweet baby angel. And when I beat you. Hand on the rope. Illegal choke. An interference. Whatever it may be, just remember. Remember that you asked to bend the rules to give them a show. A show babygirl, is exactly what I will give them. A show, because that is what I am. A fucking showgirl. A performer, an advocate for amazement. I am the Idol, sugar. The fucking idol. The world may hate what I offer, yet they cannot look away, and that. That is why you and I are so alike, but so different. See the world wants to see us both fail. For horrifically different and unfair reasons.”
“They want to see me fail, because it’s always lovely to see the confident bitch fall on her own sword. It’s always good to see the one who bats her eyelashes and makes the world swoon, collapse, tumble and fall into her own dug grave. I like to walk that tightrope. Between being the focus of their ire, and the focus of their desire. Unfortunately, for you sweet angel. The desire to see you fail, to see you fall. To see you collapse beneath the weight of your own short-comings is a little more vindictive than that. They want to see you fail, because watching you self-destruct? It’s the greatest gift in the world. It means the likes of Jessie Salco, Keira Fisher and Roxi Johnson get to turn their noses up and scoff. The likes of Kat Jones and H. B. Carter gets to spit down on you and act high and mighty. Act like they are better simply because they don’t react the way you do. I wonder, sweet girl. What will they do, when you finally hit rock bottom?”
She sighs and tilts her head to the side, resting her ear on her left hand. Closing her visible eye. The click, and the lights off once more.
“I wonder, are you more afraid of The Idol or The Masochist? The performer, or the girl who can take all the punishment and ask for just a little bit more, please. Do you think you can hold her down, sweet girl? Or are you hoping that the woman who likes to shine shows up so you can taint her?”
The right side illuminates once more. A hard line between the two sides of the face is more visible now. Her head is still resting, but now on her right hand. Leaning to the right side. Her make-up still smeared, but there was a steady stream of red running down into her open eyes. Blood flowing from a wound under her hairline. A pained smile across her face now.
“I’m trapped, you know? Trapped in my head, trapped in my life. Trapped in this flesh that won’t let me escape unless I do something with it. Unless I let it hurt. Unless I bleed and break and push the darkness from my mind into every wound. Into every bruise. Bruises are like little galaxies in our skin, lover. A world that exists in our blood. I’m a little unwell lately. I don’t know if that was clear. I’m sure you’ve picked it up. The more ironic thing is, the more I try to help you. The less I help myself. The less I help myself, and the deeper I fall into this pit of anger, self-loathing and regret. So I have to take a stand, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you are the victim of that. I don’t think you are faster, I don’t think you’re stronger. I don’t think you want this more than me. I know you’re just a touch slower. I know you’re just not as powerful behind each punch as I am. Behind every backhand, every kick, every slap. Every action I do is just that little bit stronger. I know you think you want this. I know you think you need this. I know what it is like to hate yourself and blame the world. Yet this is where it all ends for Ariana. My sweet baby girl. If you don’t beat me, there are no more excuses. Every opportunity handed to you becomes a failure of your own doing. No more the actions of others. No more the behaviours of others. No more can you scream from the rafters that you’ve been screwed at every step. I have offered you the fucking world on a silver platter. Here we stand ready to change it all. Here we stand ready to end it all.”
“High Stakes XIII is indeed High Stakes. I either repeat history and become the filth that I refuse to acknowledge. The failure that I have been told I am my whole life. The addict who is just addicted to the pain. You fail? It all ends. A year of nothing, and nobody to blame but yourself. I’m sorry lover, truly. I’m so sorry. For what I need to do, will probably break you in two. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
Her face contorts in anger. And then the lights click off. Darkness.
“I am going to make you say sorry, for every foul action you’ve made.”
The lights come on, illuminating the whole vanity unit. No longer occupied, just an empty seat and a smashed hand mirror. The name Ariana scrawled across it. Bright purple letters.
“The Conspiracy is here.”
And then…
Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.