Therapy Day Two: Digging Deeper

 Dr. Harris sits in a leather chair, jotting notes on a pad. Across from him, Lilith Locke reclines in an armchair, legs crossed, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. Her expression shifts between amusement and frustration. He picked up a file that had been sent over about the incident. He needed to address it with her, to help her further break these habits.

“Lilith, we need to talk about what happened with Kevin Carter. The accusations. The retraction. This pattern you’ve been following…”

Lilith smirks a bit, before it turns into a full smile.

“Pattern? Oh, come on, Doc. I was just having a little fun. Kevin needed a reminder that I’m the only one who truly understands him. That’s not a crime, is it?”

Dr. Harris shook his head, lowering his glasses for a moment.

“You accused him of assault, had him practically arrested, then took it all back within minutes. Do you see how that could be... problematic?”

Lilith lets out a giggle, remembering everything that happened. The look on Kevin's face. The way he called out to her, telling her he needed her.

“I gave him an experience! Something to keep me in his mind, in his soul. He needed to see how much he needs me, Doctor.”

Dr. Harris leans forward, trying to get her to understand what’s going on. He needed her to understand why it was so twisted and wrong.

“Lilith, obsession is not love. Your fixation on Kevin is unhealthy. You’re creating chaos to force a connection. That’s not romance; that’s control.”

Lilith shrugged, but listened to him before speaking.

“What’s love without a little madness Doc? He felt something, didn’t he? I could see it in his eyes.”

Dr. Harris shook his head.

“He felt fear. Anger. Betrayal. Those aren’t the emotions of a man in love, Lilith.”

Lilith scowls and then it softens.

“You don’t understand, Doctor. Kevin and I... we have this pull. This... thing. He doesn’t see it yet, but he will. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I’ve come to free him from his restraints, the ones both life and himself have placed on him.”

Dr. Harris thinks things over, selecting his words carefully.

“Lilith, what you’re describing isn’t love. It’s an illusion you’re creating. I need you to recognize that forcing someone into dependency, manipulating their reality—it won’t make them love you. It will only push them away.”

Lilith’s voice trembles as she starts to speak again.

“I’m not manipulating. I’m... guiding. If I just give him enough... encouragement, he’ll come around. He just needs time. He needs me.”

Dr. Harris lets out an exasperated sigh, setting down his notepad.

“I think we need to explore why you believe love must be earned through suffering. Tell me, Lilith—has anyone ever loved you without conditions?”

A flicker of vulnerability crosses Lilith’s face. She quickly masks it with a grin, but Dr. Harris sees it. Lilith speaks quietly, something from deep within stirs inside her.

“Love without conditions? Sounds boring.”

Dr. Harris sits back and looks at her.

“Or maybe... it sounds impossible to you.”

Lilith looks away, the smirk fading. The room falls into a tense silence. Dr. Harris goes for it, to dig deeper into her past, seeing if there’s a connection here.

“I want you to tell me about the first time you felt love, Lilith. Not obsession. Not control. Just love.”

Lilith chuckles darkly.

“Oh, Doc, you’re fishing for childhood trauma, aren’t you? Trying to dig up some sob story to make sense of me? That’s so textbook. So... dull. Some people just live better this way.”

Dr. Harris laces his fingers together and places them on his lap.

“I just want to understand.”

Lilith smirked, nodding her head, playing along with the good doctor. She could tell him anything and sadly the man would probably eat it up. Therapists loved this shit.

“Fine. I had a cat once. Loved that little thing. Until it ran away. Or maybe I left the window open on purpose, I don’t know. Either way, that was the first and last time I loved something that didn’t disappoint me.”

Dr. Harris nodded, before he spoke again.

“That’s a sad way to look at love.”

Lilith took a moment to pause, thinking things over.

“Love is sad, Doc. Love is pain. Love is freeing. You have to make them feel it, or else it’s not real. Kevin? He felt it. Love is both happiness and sadness.”

Dr. Harris chimed in, stopping her flow.

“That’s not love, Lilith. That’s control. Let’s talk about control.”

Lilith's smile falters slightly. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair.

“Control is security. It’s... knowing what’s going to happen. Knowing they’ll come back, no matter what.”

Dr. Harris shook his head.

“Because they want to, or because they’re afraid not to?”

Lilith smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Does it matter? If they come back, they come back. He’ll come back, the desire to be unhinged, to let himself feel everything. The rage, the power, how free he’ll feel with me by his side. He'll come back.”

Dr. Harris shook his head.

“It does matter. Love is freedom, Lilith. If you have to force it, it isn’t love.”

Silence. Lilith picks at a thread on her dress, avoiding his gaze. Dr. Harris continued.

“Tell me about your parents.”

Lilith laughs, shaking her head. Here it goes, the good doctor was going to shrink her into some box of people with trauma. She didn’t fear her demons, she welcomed them.

“Oh, here we go. The ‘daddy issues’ segment of the session. Let’s just say, my father was a piece of work. My mother? A ghost, even when she was alive.”

Dr. Harris knew of Lilith’s past, her parents were a broken home. She grew up in that darkness.

“How did that shape your view on love?”

Lilith shook her head.

“It taught me one thing: If you don’t hold on tight, if you don’t make sure they need you... they leave. Love is freedom to be real, but it doesn’t come for free, there’s a price to pay.”

Dr. Harris still wanted to understand further into her mind.

“And Kevin? You think if you make him need you, he won’t leave?”

Lilith smiles darkly again.

“Oh, he won’t. Not when I’m done. I don’t want to hold him down and control him. I want him to realize he needs to let go of that control and let himself feel and to use that anger.”

Dr. Harris took a deep breath.

“Lilith, that’s not love. That’s fear. And I think, deep down, you’re the one who’s afraid. The man doesn’t want you Lilith.”

Lilith’s jaw tightens. She shakes her head, but her fingers tremble slightly as she grips the armrest. Lilith shook her head. Delicate hands digging into the wood of the armrest, digging holes into it.

“You’re wrong. He loves me and he needs me. He just doesn’t know it yet. But I believe I’m finally getting through to him.”

Dr. Harris jumped in with both feet.

“Or maybe... you don’t know what love really is.”

Long silence. Lilith’s smile fades entirely. Her eyes darken, but there’s something else there now. Doubt? Pain? A crack in the mask? Dr. Harris watches, waiting, letting the weight of the words settle in.



STATIC

The screen flickers. A low hum crawls through the silence, a sickly sound that writhes in the ears, burrowing deep like a parasite. Then—a whisper. Soft. Sweet. Poisoned. A cupcake laced with cyanide.

"Do you hear it, Aaron?"

A face flickers into view. Lilith.

But not really.

Not...right.

Her eyes are wide, too wide, pupils dilated like twin black holes. Her lips curl, a grotesque mimicry of a smile, stretching too far, too sharp. Her fingers twitch at her sides, nails caked in something dark and drying. The camera shakes, trembles, distorts around the edges, as if reality itself recoils from her presence.

"It's the sound of inevitability. The sound of the abyss calling your name. It's beautiful, isn’t it? That little hum just beneath your heartbeat, that quiet whisper in the dark? Shhh. Listen."

Silence.

Then—a single, rhythmic THUMP.

The screen spasms violently. A flash of images: A broken doll, limbs twisted the wrong way. A moth pinned through the thorax, still fluttering. A smear of red on pristine white tile.

Lilith giggles. It starts small, a delicate sound, sugar-sweet—until it grows, fractures, becomes something jagged and hysterical. Her body shakes with it, as if her very bones are rattling apart beneath her skin.

"Aaron, Aaron, Aaron... Do you think I don’t see you? Do you think I don’t know you? You call yourself Asphyxia. How deliciously ironic. Because when I get my hands around your throat, when my fingers press into that fragile little windpipe of yours..."

Her breath hitches. Her head tilts. A shudder rolls down her spine.

"Ohhh, Aaron, the beautiful sounds you will make for me."

The camera jolts. Another flash. This time—

A room. No doors. No windows. Just walls covered in frenzied, erratic scrawlings. Scribbled names scratched so deep into the plaster they bleed. One word, again and again:

UNMADE.

Lilith’s face returns. Closer now. Too close. Lips cracked. Teeth bared. Her breath fogs the lens.

"I am not here to fight you, Aaron. I am not here to best you, or to prove something. No, no, no. That would be too small. Too insignificant. I am here to take you apart. To pull at the seams and unravel every little thread that makes you who you are. Piece by piece. Strip by strip. Until there's nothing left but raw, screaming essence."

Her hands rise, fingers wriggling like restless spiders.

"I want to peel back the layers, see what color you bleed. I want to hear what your voice sounds like when it is nothing but a gurgle. When your breath is stolen. When your world turns to black, and the last thing you see... is me."

She inhales deeply, shuddering, euphoric.

"You don't understand yet, do you?"

The room behind her shifts, melts. The walls drip like candle wax, revealing a yawning, endless void beneath.

Her expression softens. Just for a moment. Her head tilts, and the wildness in her eyes dims, like a dying ember flickering in the wind. When she speaks next, it is not a taunt. Not a threat.

It is a whisper of something raw. Something painful.

"Aaron... I could have been different. We could have been different. In another world. Another time. Another life." Her fingers tremble, just for a breath, a heartbeat, before curling back into claws. "But this is the only story we were given, isn’t it? And I... I was never meant to be anything but this. A shadow. A sickness. A thing that unmakes."

A pause. A silence that stretches too long, pressing down like the weight of a grave.

Then—

She snaps back.

The softness is gone, devoured by the abyss inside her. The madness slams back into place with a sharp, wet grin, a delighted shiver running through her spine.

"But oh, Aaron, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it."

The static swells, the image distorting, twisting, warping as her laughter crawls through the speakers like something alive, something with teeth. It stretches, jagged and gleeful, reverberating in the dark like a child's nursery rhyme played in reverse.

And then—

Blackness.

Her voice lingers, stretched and warped, sinking into the deep.

"See you soon, little gasping thing..."

STATIC.

Then—an interruption.

The camera feed returns, but something has changed. The room is darker now, almost suffocating in its emptiness. Lilith is still there, but she is different. The manic energy that had once rattled her form is momentarily subdued. Her fingers twitch against her thighs, not in excitement, but in hesitation.

"Aaron," she says, and for the first time, his name is not laced with glee. It is a whisper. A recognition. A crack in the madness.

She steps back, and the void seems to move with her. The walls behind her shift again, but this time they do not melt. They change. They rebuild. They reshape into something familiar.

A hallway. A home. Flickering lights and the distant echo of footsteps.

"Do you remember?" Her voice is barely audible now. "Before all of this. Before the hunger. Before the unmaking."

The screen glitches, and for a brief moment, another image appears—a girl, much younger, standing at the edge of a dimly lit hallway. Not Lilith. Not exactly. But close enough. And then it is gone. Ripped away as she lets out a breath, sharp and pained, before the madness slams back into place like a rusted iron gate.

"No," she snarls, shaking her head violently. "No, no, no. That’s not the story. That’s not our story."

The camera distorts once more, her smile returning, stretched wide, teeth bared.

"Forget it, Aaron. Forget all of it. Because I will unmake you. I will peel you apart, and when there is nothing left but the whisper of what you once were, I will be there, watching, smiling. Because that is what I am. That is what I was made to be. And you?"

She leans forward, her lips almost brushing the lens.

"You were made to be undone."

The static surges. The screen spasms. Lilith throws her head back and laughs—a sound that drowns the world, that claws at the edges of sanity itself.

And then—

Blackness.

[CONNECTION LOST.]



Lilith sat in the dim glow of an old motel lamp, the flickering light painting restless shadows across the peeling wallpaper. The air smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey, a fitting backdrop for the storm swirling inside her.

She had done quite a bit since her last session with the good doctor. But it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t resist the urge to cause chaos. It was instinctual, something woven into the fabric of her being. A beast prowling beneath her skin, sharpening its claws every time she thought—maybe this time I can be different.

Kevin Carter had been proof of that. The spectacle she’d crafted around him was glorious, wasn’t it? The way the world turned its gaze toward him, the way his facade cracked under the pressure. The chaos she unleashed wrapped around him like an elegant noose, one woven with perfectly placed whispers and just the right push at the right time. And oh, the sweet crescendo—the police storming the venue, his name becoming a headline, his downfall bleeding into the air like the iron tang of fresh violence.

It should have felt perfect.

Instead, it left a hollow ache gnawing at her ribs.

Lilith dragged a hand through her hair, fingers tightening into her scalp as she stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror above the dresser. Her pupils were blown wide, rimmed with something that looked too much like frustration—too much like doubt.

He had said he needed her.

That should have been enough.

So why did she feel like she had lost something instead of won?

Her hand twitched toward the phone beside her. A dozen messages sat unread, names blinking on the screen like distant lighthouses she had no desire to reach. She hovered over one in particular.

The doctor.

The one who thought he could fix her, or maybe just understand her.

Lilith let out a sharp laugh, one that came out more like a snarl. Understanding her was like trying to hold onto smoke—by the time you thought you had a grasp, it had already slipped through your fingers.

And yet…

She leaned forward, staring into her own eyes, searching.

Could she be different? Could she take all of this—the games, the chaos, the carnage—and reshape it into something else?

She tapped her fingers against the table. Once. Twice. A steady, rhythmic beat.

Then she slammed her fist down so hard the lamp rattled.

No.

This was who she was. Who she had always been.

And if there was a way out—if there was another path she could take—she sure as hell hadn’t found it yet.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. A new message.

Her doctor.

"Still trying to define yourself in the wreckage? How poetic."

Lilith let out a sharp laugh, one that came out more like a snarl.

Define herself?

She glanced back at Kevin’s post, then at her own reflection in the dark screen.

If she was just a storm, then why did she feel the need to check if he was still standing in the aftermath?

The phone screen cast a sickly glow against Lilith’s face, illuminating the sharp angles of her features in the dim motel room.

She scrolled.

Again.

Again.

Kevin’s words sat frozen in time, untouched since the moment the police stormed in and ripped him from the stage. No responses. No cryptic messages. No biting remarks wrapped in poetry and thorns.

Just… silence.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. Her breath slowed. The emptiness of it gnawed at her, a raw and aching void in her gut. He wasn’t saying anything. No smug declarations. No carefully curated thoughts. No scathing observations about the world or about her.

It was like he wasn’t there at all.

And that?

That was unbearable.

She scrolled back further. Older posts. Older thoughts. Pieces of him, still lingering like ghosts in the machine.

"To some people. I'll always be the bad guy."

She traced the words with her eyes, drinking them in, letting them coil around her like whispered prayers. Looked at the image of him that accompanied it.

Would he think she was a storm?

But she had listened to him once. Hadn’t she? Sat in the shadows, watching, waiting, learning. She had studied the way he twisted words into weapons, the way he made chaos look like art. She reveled in his chaos, studied it as if there was some final exam coming her way. Because life was always a test.

And yet… he thought she was mindless.

Her grip on the phone tightened until the plastic creaked beneath her fingers.

She had done so much since her last session with the good doctor. She had tried. God, she had tried. But no matter what games she played, no matter how she bent the world around her like a puppeteer pulling on unseen strings—there was still something missing.

Still something inside her that clawed and screamed and hungered.

And that hunger was never satisfied.

Kevin Carter should have been a victory. His downfall should have been another notch in the ever-growing tally of chaos she’d left in her wake. The police stormed the venue. The headlines. The looks on their faces when they realized she had done it.

But it hadn’t been enough.

Why wasn’t it enough?

She squeezed her eyes shut, digging the heels of her palms into them until colors burst behind her eyelids, swirling, writhing.

Somewhere deep inside her, buried beneath the layers of madness and static, was something fragile. Something raw. A part of her that had been twisted so many times it no longer remembered its original shape.

And that part of her ached.

Her phone dimmed in her grip, the screen going dark.

Silence.

Still, she held it close.


STATIC

A harsh crackle, the sound of something being torn apart, echoes through the void. It rips through the silence, slicing through the air with a power that leaves the room cold and heavy.

Then—silence. Not just empty silence. Not just quiet.

Heavy.

A weight presses down from all sides, suffocating the very air around you. The stillness isn’t just still—it’s thick. It's all-encompassing. The dark isn’t merely the absence of light. It’s a presence. An entity that clings, suffuses, spreads. A presence that consumes. It is all there is.

Then, there's a pulse. Slow at first. A rhythmic throb that crawls through the air, like the heartbeat of something ancient, something not human.

Thump.

Deep. Distant. Almost too quiet to hear, but there. Always there. A heartbeat, like the rhythm of the world itself.

Then— Thump. Thump. Thump.

Faster now. Growing. Eager.

Something stirs at the edges of vision, something that isn’t quite seen, but it’s felt. A cold slithering beneath the skin of the world, creeping into your thoughts, pressing against your senses. Just outside the corner of your eye.

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

Faster. Closer. It’s coming, whatever it is. The pulse is frantic now. A wild, erratic rhythm that matches the desperate beat of your own heart. The air gets thinner, suffocating. The walls close in, and you can’t escape it. You can't escape what's coming.

And then—

A breath. Sharp. Labored.

It’s drawn in through unseen teeth, wet and hungry.

A voice.

A low, wet whisper creeps into the stillness, curling through the silence like smoke, seeping into your mind. It lingers, and its words scrape the air, leaving a chill that bites deep into your soul.

“Did you think you were alone?” it hisses.

The blackness flickers—a fleeting flash, then it reclaims its hold, swallowing the faintest hint of light. A shadow stretches across the floor. It grows, it spreads, and then—

A face.

No, not a face.

A mask. A thing too hideous to be real. Pale skin stretched too tight. Eyes wide and unblinking. A grin—no, a rictus—that spreads too wide, too thin. Jagged teeth catch the faintest glimmer of light, sharp as broken glass.

She leans closer, into your vision. Not human. Never human. Her gaze pierces through you, down to the core of your being.

She sees you.

No.

She knows you.

It is inside you, a thread of something broken, woven into the very fabric of who you are. It’s something dark, something that was always there, lurking in the recesses of your mind. You can’t remember when it entered, but you know it’s been there all along. Something hungry. Something is wrong.

"You can hide," she whispers, voice like shattered glass, sharp and brittle. "You can pretend. You can lock your doors and shut your windows. But tell me..." she pauses, and for a brief moment, there’s something almost playful in her tone. "Who do you think is watching?"

The pulse grows louder. Faster. You hear it now, echoing in your skull. The very heartbeat of the world, drowning out everything else. The walls creak, groan, like they’re about to collapse. The air is thick, heavy, pressing in on you from every side.

And then, a voice again. Closer this time. So close you can feel its breath against your skin.

“Do you feel it? The walls are closing in, Aaron. Can you hear it? Can you hear your mind breaking?”

The words come with a malicious joy, and the figure's grin stretches impossibly wider.

Suddenly, a violent jolt. Images flash across your vision—flashes of memories, of things you thought you’d forgotten.

A figure in the dark, watching from just beyond the edge of the bed. Always there. Always waiting. A hallway that stretches endlessly, the walls pulsing, as if the very house is alive, breathing, alive with something terrible, something hungry. A door, slightly ajar. Just enough to see what’s behind it. But something is behind it. Something that’s been waiting. A mirror. Cracked. Distorted. Reflections warping, twisting, stretching out of shape when they shouldn’t. A dress, torn and soaked, lying in a heap on a dirt floor. A pair of hands, nails split and broken, clawing at something unseen, something that can’t be touched. A mouth sewn shut. Something thrashing, struggling to get out from behind those lips.

The pulse skips, stutters. Something twisted inside the rhythm.

“I know what you dream of,” the voice murmurs, and you feel it in your bones.

A breath, long and drawn. Thick with anticipation.

“I know the sounds you hear when you think you're alone. I know what you are.”

There’s a giggle. Not a child's giggle, but something twisted. Something is wrong. It grates against your sanity, gnaws at the edge of your mind like broken glass.

"You tell yourself you're not afraid of the dark," She whispers, the voice now so close that it's like it’s right inside your skull, whispering directly into your thoughts. "But the dark... the dark is so very afraid of me."

The world around you shifts. Splinters. Breaks. The walls warp, twist, folding like they’re caught in a wind that never stops. A storm, endless and unforgiving. The floor buckles beneath your feet. The weight of it all presses in on you. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

You try to scream. You try to fight back, but it's like your body’s moving in slow motion, like you’re trapped in some kind of twisted nightmare, unable to wake up.

The name. The name is carved into the walls. Deep. Ragged. Blood-streaked. It’s everywhere.

“Hope,” she murmurs, the word twisting like a song from the edge of oblivion. "Hope is nothing but a lie. And I... will undo you."

The pulse skips, and something inside you cracks.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The world jerks, and for a moment, you’re not sure if the pulse belongs to you or to the world itself. But it’s coming faster. More frantic now. The walls are closing in.

And then, in the darkness, you hear it.

A voice. A whisper.

"Run."

The words are sweet, cold. A lullaby from hell itself. It wraps around you, clings to you, like the darkness is trying to swallow you whole. It’s a twisted comfort, a promise.

“Run as fast as you can, Aaron,” She croons, its voice like a blade. "But you can’t outrun what’s already inside you. You can't outrun me."

The air shivers with the weight of it. You can feel the presence of it, that thing lurking in the dark, watching you. Waiting. And you know it’s not over. It’s never over.

And then the static returns. Louder. Fizzing and crackling, like electricity ripping through the air. A surge. A rush. A wave of noise that presses against your skull. Your mind.

The pulse beats faster. Faster.

“Do you think you’re free now, Aaron?” Lilith's voice spits out, twisted, distorted, stretched out like it’s coming from miles away. “You can run. You can scream. But there’s no place left to hide. No door to lock. This world... is mine. And you, Aaron? You are mine, too.”

The walls tremble again, splintering like brittle bone. The floor beneath you cracks. Splits open. The hallway stretches out before you, infinitely long, its end pulling away into the blackness. The darkness is all around you now. It’s closing in, tightening, choking you. The walls themselves seem to grow closer.

No escape.

The name—Aaron. It echoes in your mind, a song you can’t escape. It’s on the walls, it’s in the floorboards, etched into your skin.

And then—

A flicker. A movement.

A figure, swift as death. Too fast to catch.

It’s there. Behind you. Just out of reach. You can’t see it, but you feel it. The cold breath against your neck. The sharp, unsettling pressure against your spine.

And then—

The face. That same face.

It’s never quite there. Always just beyond the veil of reality. But you can see it now. The pale, twisted grin. Those eyes, burning into you, seeing through you. Burning holes into your very soul.

“You thought you could escape me, Aaron?” she whispers, its voice like poison, sweet and cruel. “You thought you could outrun the truth? The truth that you’re nothing but a vessel? A dream inside my head? You can’t escape what’s inside you. You can’t escape me. No matter how far you run, I will always find you.”

The walls twist and bend. The floor cracks open beneath your feet. The air itself seems to fold and shift, like reality is collapsing all around you. You reach out, grasping at empty air, but there’s nothing. Nothing to hold onto. Nothing to keep you grounded.

“I told you,” her voice murmurs, too close now. "You can hide, you can scream, but you can't escape what you are. You’ll never escape me. Never escape this.”

Laughter rings out. A thousand voices. A thousand souls, all laughing together. All echoing that same twisted joy. The sound cracks the air open, shattering reality itself.

And then—there it is. The pulse.

It’s not yours. It’s the world’s. The heartbeat of the nightmare itself. It’s inside you now. Part of you.

And you can feel it. Closing in. Always closing in.

But here’s the thing, Aaron. You’ll fight. You always fight.

But you can’t beat what’s already inside you.

The truth is... I’ll always be there. Waiting. Watching.

And when the time comes, you’ll know it.

You’ll feel it.

The walls are closing in.

And I... am coming for you.

[CONNECTION LOST.]



The darkness lifts, and Lilith awakens.

Her body is cold, stiff—disoriented, as though she'd been submerged in a frozen sleep. Her breath catches, a gasp escaping her lips as she shudders awake. The remnants of the dream cling to her like cobwebs, images of her opponent, Aaron, broken and crumpled at her feet, whispering sweet defeat in her ear.

But as the fog of the dream fades, she finds herself lying in her bed, the world still around her. No dark corridors.

No walls closing in. Only silence. Stillness.

With a soft groan, she reaches for her phone on the nightstand, her fingers brushing over its screen as she unlocks it. The soft glow illuminates her face, casting eerie shadows across her sharp features.

A single message.

Her lips curl into a smile—wide, cold, knowing.

“I need you.”

She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t need to.

The hunt isn’t over. It’s just begun.

Her smile deepens.

And soon… she'll be coming for Aaron Asphyxia and the rest of the Bombshell division of Sin City Wrestling.

“See you soon Aaron, Darling..”

I couldn’t say that I was the happiest champion in the world after Kayla and I got a win. It was a momentum builder for sure, but I wasn’t happy with the fact that she was the one that got the pin in the end. This, on top of what happened with my one on one match against Victoria and knowing I wasn’t going to have another match until the chamber itself really burdened the hell out of me and turned what should be a happy occasion at a Scottsdale steakhouse into more of a burden. All I could do was lament that things weren’t going like how I wanted them to when Chelsea LeClair, in a far bubblier mood than I was, approached me.

“Can you believe it, Andrea?” Chelsea asked with a joy in her voice as we exchanged a hug, though for me it was awkward considering the circumstances. “GCW Hall of Fame, granted, it’s a Utopia induction…”

“It’s still… a nice surprise. I never considered the possibility considering we started our careers in GCW< but we didn’t explode as main event wrestlers until long after we left.”

Chelsea knew right away that something was bothering me.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, why?” I lied, though Chelsea didn’t get to answer me because the leader of Utopia herself, and our mentor, Myra Rivers, came into the picture.

“Hello there, Hall of Famers…” Myra said with a laugh.

“Hall of Famer, that’s still surreal for me to say considering after Utopia split, I didn’t have a great time in GCW…” Chelsea said.

“Don’t sell yourself short…” Myra said to Chelsea. “Utopia made an impact in its own way. Let’s celebrate, yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s get our minds off the grind for a change”. I added as we all went inside the steakhouse. We were seated rather quickly and the waiter took our drink orders. Myra and Chelsea were striking up a conversation, but my face was buried in the menu trying to avoid everything.

“Everything fine, Andrea?” Myra asked. “You have barely said a word.”

I put the menu down and tried to be cool, but I couldn’t hide the annoyance on my face.

“I’m gond…” I said. But Myra narrowed her eyes and I knew she wasn’t convinced.

“Andrea’s seemed off today…” Chelsea mentioned.

“Yeah, what’s up with you? Are you not proud of the Utopia induction in GCW?” Myra asked

“I am but…”

“You haven’t said a word about it, even on social media. Are there feelings from years ago about GCW that you haven’t resolved or…”

“No, it has nothing to do with that. Myra, let me ask you something because YOU of all people would know having BEEN in that fire with me before. Let’s say you were the Bombshells World Champion, you had two matches one of which you won because of interference and the other with your tag team partner getting the pin. Would you feel like a champion whatsoever?”

Chelsea sighed knowing what was up with me and just buried her face in the menu. Myra on the other hand, scoffed at the question a bit showing that such a scenario was rolling off of her back.

“This matters why?” she asked.

“Because right now? I don’t feel like a champion and I’m going to have five fucking challengers that are going to come out of the fucking gate bashing me for this because of the way my last two matches have gone and I just cannot fucking deal with that shit! I don’t WANT to deal with that shit. I know it’s going to sound stubborn and maybe stupid, but you know what happened the last time I was a world champion and everything and I came into this reign hoping to BETTER that one. But when you consider the way my two matches as champion have gone and the fact that I’ve got the odds stacked against me…”

“You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders….:” Myra cut in.

“Yeah, more or less. I’ll be honest with you. The way Victoria was approaching our match sucked. It was literally the same shit that I dealt with the first time I was champion. You know how she was doing that: ‘paper champion’, ‘not a real champion’...”

I rolled my eyes.

“But you beat her, Andrea…” Chelsea interrupted to remind me.

“Not in the way a champion should be winning against an opponent of that caliber though. But, you know. Fine. I can’t control the actions of other people even though getting caught in the cross fire of someone else’s war does in fact, suck. But, I let it roll off my back and knew I was going to get at least one more chance to show what kind of champion I could be. Then Kayla was the one that got the pin and you just KNOW people are going to start coming in with their doubts and their bullshit and…”

There was a brief interruption with the waiter serving our non-alcoholic drinks and then a couple of minutes of our lunch orders being taken, Myra, however, continued the conversation.

“Andrea, how many times have I told you… over and over again over how many years… not to let shit pile on top of more shit on your shoulders? How many times have you buckled under that weight because you let that shit pile up. I understand not wanting to win the way you did against Victoria and I get that you wanted to get the pin, but the way I am looking at it, if I were you, having done this world champion thing nine times over, I would be looking at this situation and saying ‘Fine, the chamber itself is what matters the most anyway’.”

“And don’t start with that ‘but if I don’t win the chamber then…’ talk either…” Chelsea adds on. “It’s not going to take away from anything. I don’t understand why you have to put so much unnecessary pressure on yourself. Who cares what other people say? Who gives a shit if Kayla got the pin. I don’t. Myra doesn’t. I don’t think anyone else does. Really, Kayla might point it out but who gives a fuck?”

“I think the way Chelsea is putting it is the way to see it.”

“Yeah… of course…” I said, still feeling unsure.

“I think this thing with you and Kayla is starting to become a little more personal for you too…” Chelsea points out. “I mean, this has grown into more than just a match here and a match there. It’s turning into a very heated rivalry and you feel like you’re one step behind her right now. If it was me as your partner and I got the pin, you wouldn’t even care. But because it’s Kayla that got it, and because she has something over you at the moment, then you’re taking it personal.”

“I’m not sure I would even go that far, though it’s pretty well documented that I am no fan of the woman or her attitude.”

“I’ve had my share of rivalries over the years, you know that…” Myra adds.

“You can’t help a glory hog, Andrea. Just focus on what you can do and don’t get overwhelmed. If worse comes to worse, it doesn’t take away what you accomplished beating her for the championship.”

“You both know how I want to get past ONE supercard cycle with the championship considering the last time around…”

“FUCK the last time around…” Chelsea says with anger in her voice. “And if I see you relapse and start doubting yourself and going off the rails again like you did last time, I’m kicking your ass.”

“And I’ll gladly join in. Now, can we celebrate Utopia being a Hall of Fame induction in GCW? You deserve to lighten your own burden every now and then…”

“That’s rich coming from you of all people, Myra…” I snapped back, knowing the workaholic that she’s always been. “But sure. Okay. Utopia. GCW Hall of Fame. All that jazz.”

Chelsea sighed again, Myra didn’t seem pleased with how I responded and needless to say, I was the least celebratory of our trio when that lunch came around. Chelsea made a hell of a point about Kayla getting the pin and I knew that she was right when I said that my rivalry with her was the reason why it was bothering me. Unfortunately, I was just too stubborn to come out and admit it.

Next Day…

I found myself walking out of the Scottsdale Fashion Square after a brief stroll to get my mind off of things. My brain was still fixated on what I had to do to pull myself out of the situation, but I was also waiting for Roddy to pick me up in the parking lot. I was running various scenarios in my head of what opponent might say what thing and figuring out how I was going to counter or silence any sort of negative talk.

PTSD from my last world title reign isn’t something that could be overcome overnight after all…

I could hear some laughter nearby, but I wasn’t thinking too much of it… that is, until a familiar voice that I would NEVER want to deal with came within earshot…

“Look who’s a world champion again…”

I’m not sure what was more disgusting: seeing my ex-boyfriend Lorenzo who dumped me after I stopped being the person that he wanted me to be, or seeing him with a new bitch on his arm.

“This is your ex?” she asked. “She’s even uglier than I thought.”

“Hey, chill! We’re friends, right?” Lorenzo asked me.

“I’m pretty sure that went out the window when you dumped me for not being ‘that evil bitch’ that I was in my last SCW run.”

“Have you dated anyone since me though? I mean….”

“That’s none of your business. What are you even doing here?”

“Taking out a girl worth my time, that’s what.”

“I’ll explore for a bit…” his new girlfriend said as she walked away.

“I’m not the one that missed out, Lorenzo. I became SCW Bombshells World Champion without being that ‘evil bitch’ that you loved so much. I remember how you were brainwashing me and enabling me to be that person after we got together and how you were telling me that I was going to be a world champion and dominate the whole world being the way you wanted me to be and it never happened. I go back to being me and LOOK, I won a world championship again.”

Lorenzo shrugs.

“You told me straight up that if I went back to being ‘that weak piece of shit’... your words, that I would never be SCW Bombshells World Champion again and you were wrong. You were DEAD fucking wrong! So don’t come up to my face with your new bitch and act like you matter.”

“It was a fluke. You’re not surviving that chamber. You haven’t even done anything since you won the title.”

I rolled my eyes, basically no-selling that kind of talk.

“You couldn’t beat another champion without help and you couldn’t even win the tag team match on Sunday. The better wrestler of your team did. My girl and I even got tickets for that match just to watch you lose, you know that right? You’re not even that good. You’ve never been that good. You’re nothing but a stuck up, obnoxious pathetic daddy’s little girl that can’t find a man that wants to fuck her because…”

I reached into my purse and pulled out some earbuds. I put them in my ears, found a song on my phone and started blasting “Round and Round” by Ratt to the highest volume I could without damaging my ears.  Whatever negative, abusive garbage he was saying, I couldn’t even hear. He was getting visibly frustrated that I wouldn’t hear him to the point where he tried to reach for my ear to pull an earbud out, but I was fast on the reflex to grab him by the wrist.

“Don’t touch me…” I said as I shoved him away. I paused the song on my phone.

“You are so disrespectful, you know that? You can’t hear the truth so you’re rude and shutting me out. If your father was still here, he would be…”

“You kicked me to the curb when I refused to be the person you kept brainwashing me to be. You don’t have the right to bring up my father. You don’t have a right to talk to me. I don’t care what you think. You’re fucking trash, Lorenzo. The moment you get bored with your new bitch, you’re going to shit can her too just like you did me. Yeah, maybe I haven’t won matches since winning the belt the way I wanted to. But so fucking what, okay? The fact is, after you kept telling me I’d never amount to anything again in SCW after you dumped me, I went back, being the OPPOSITE of everything you wanted me to be, and I became a world champion again. You trying to throw Match A and Match B in my face for such fucking shallow reasons doesn’t erase that. I proved you wrong, I succeeded without you and you can’t take it so you’re trying to bring me down. So why don’t you fuck off, fuck yourself, fuck your new bitch, and get the fuck out of my face, you toxic piece of gutter trash! Just looking at you and knowing I had someone like you in my bed at one point makes me disgusted…”

“Your loss… in that stupid chamber and with me. I’m the best you’ll ever have…” he said as he began to walk away.

“...I’ll find someone that is so much better than your five minutes a pop, you fucking piece of shit! I bet even the Troll in SCW would be a better fuck than you!”

Lorenzo flipped me off as he went to join his new girlfriend. I, on the other hand, was feeling really heated considering so much subconscious nonsense was now causing immense anger to build up inside of me. I did hear a slow clap in the distance and I saw that my older brother Roddy was approaching me.

“Way to tell off that dickbag, sis.”

I don’t remember a time where I couldn’t hug him fast enough.

“Fucking piece of shit! I was in the gutter when I dated him and that kept me in there longer than I ever needed to be…”

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore. You handled it the right way. He was trying to give you shit based off of your last two matches and you just tuned it out and didn’t give it the time of day. I know those matches are bothering you a bit, but that’s what you need to do: put them in the past. Let’s ditch this stand, alright? I’m not going to allow you to get bent over shit and people, that don’t matter. “

“Thanks for looking out for me…” I said with a sigh. “I’ve had it up to here as is…”

Roddy and I would depart after I said this and as the day progressed, I was feeling better even if I was still angry over the way my previous two matches in SCW have gone.

3/22/2025

Tucson.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my home state, but this city hasn’t been great for me as SCW is concerned. When the camera came on me, I effectively knew that but I also know that it was the least of the odds and any old demons that I had to overcome. Still, being at Mount Lemmon and in nature rather than the bustling business of Tucson was helping me a bit as I began to express my thoughts.

“I will be the first to admit that there are areas within myself that I have to improve upon. I know that my history in Tuscon isn’t good. High Stakes was in Tucson and I couldn’t beat Kayla. I know that my history being an SCW Bombshells World Champion isn’t good because the last time around, it was one supercard cycle and done and I went into this downward spiral over it for a long time. I’ve been in an elimination chamber before, and THAT didn’t go well for me. I finished fourth while the likes of Crystal and Alicia had all the spotlight. So yeah, I have a LOT on my shoulders with this championship defense and in order to remain the SCW Bombshells World Champion, I’ve got to overcome ALL of that AND five challengers. I look at the field and I know that Kayla’s in there. That’s not a surprise. She’s pretty much earned that opportunity. I’m not THAT surprised to see Mercedes in there considering her pedigree and considering she’s on a higher wave of things lately. But the others? Those DO surprise me to some degree. Either way, with everything that I’ve brought up and knowing that the two matches I’ve had since Inception, while they have been wins, have the “yeah, but…” asterisk attached at the end. I beat Victoria, BUT… interference. I was able to get the win over Mercedes and Cassie recently… BUT Kayla got the pin. If you think I’m happy with that, I’m NOT! So the way I see it, I get the win in this chamber match, overcome everything that I just mentioned and THEN I can feel like I’ve really solidified myself as a world champion.

I’ve had a dominant career. Winning my matches at an 80 percent clip is nothing to sneeze at. Going an entire SCW season and an entire calender year undefeated as I did in 2021 and being one of the better Internet Champions of my generation in this company is something to be proud of. But the one thing that I haven’t proven yet is that I can handle that leadership role of being a world champion and with a win here, that’s EXACTLY what I will do. I will start with Necra. She’s a Hall of Fame member who just came back and I am not going to pretend like I know everything about her. Necra, for all of your accomplishments, I’m not going to walk into that chamber intimidated by you and it’s not just because you came back and it’s not just because you’re probably still working off the rust. It’s because you’re going to be sidetracked. I know this! I’ve seen what’s been going on with you and Candy lately and you’re likely going to be more fixated on torturing her than winning this championship if I had to take a guess. I know you’re coming in here with your reputation and your ‘soul taking nature’ and all of that, but let’s face the facts. You’ve got a LOT of adjusting to do because this is a FAR different SCW now than it was the last time you were here and in my opinion, you haven’t shown enough to prove that you deserve to be in this match. Had it not been for Bobbie’s pregnancy and the sudden need for a replacement, you wouldn’t be int his match at all. So, the way I see it? You’re at a worse disadvantage than I could ever be.

And speaking of disadvantage…

Candy…

Girl, I don’t hate you. I used to find you annoying in my last run here, but I’m past that. What in the actual fuck are you doing int his match? Right, Christian threw you in out of nowhere but here’s the thing. A match like this? It’s completely out of your element. You don’t even know what you’re in for. You’re too much of a sweetheart to even win a match like this. That’s without going into the fact that aside from a Roulette Championship reign that was quite a while back, you’ve never had a real track record of success in Sin City Wrestling. You don’t have enough of a spine to be a true threat in this match and I hate to dismiss you knowing what you can be capable of, but you havern’t changed at all from your last SCW run, I haven’t seen any signs of you being any different or any better than years past and this is one of those matches where you’re just too much in over your head. You might eliminate Necra at most, but besides that? Every time we’ve faced, I’ve been the winner on the other side and this is going to be another of those instances.

Now as far as Mercedes and Cassie go… with Cassie, what you have is someone who like Candy, is in over her head but not because of talent. I think Cassie is a bigger threat in this match than Candy. But Cassie is in the same spot that I was in when I had my first chamber match here and that’s having the massive disadvantage of being inexperienced compared to the rest of us. Cassie, I don’t take back anything that I said about you when we were going into the tag match. I still think that your attitude definitely needs some adjusting and I still think that you and Mercedes defeated yourselves before that tag match started. If you and Krystal are similar in any way, I would say it’s the propensity to look at a huge challenge like this and have that “oh my god, this is going to be tough” attitude before the bell even rings and I admit that when I went into my last chamber match here, that’s exactly how I was feeling. I went in there thinking “this is going to be too hard” rather than “I’m going to find a way to win against all odds with so many big names” and I finished a VERY disappointing fourth place. Cassie, you’re going to be far too much in your own head and something tells me you’re especially going to be targeting Mercedes considering you’re going to be wanting her head on a platter and you’re feeling like she cost you our tag team match.

That doesn’t leave YOU off the hook, Mercedes. You’re someone that only puts her whole heart and soul into a match whenever it’s most convenient for you and our tag team match was literally the perfect example of that. You didn’t even bother saying a fucking word going into our match other than whining on Twitter about being Cassie’s partner and when we actually had the match? I could tell that you were feeling like you’d rather be elsewhere. I could tell that teaming up with Cassie was the last thing that you wanted to do. So, here’s the score here. You can fuck right off with that attitude and you can quit half-assing and sleepwalking your way through your SCW career. I can respect your accomplishments and I will admit that you’ve been better as of late. I think perhaps, you could maybe be in the final four of this thing, maybe final 3, if you actually TRY to step into that ring and TRY top prove that you can grow and evolve with the division instead of being the glorified nostalgia act you’ve allowed yourself to become and relying so much on what you did years ago. I want to at least respect you as a person for that much, but you’ve never given me a reason to. I know what you’re capable of when you actually try your best. I felt that when I beat you for the Internet Championship. But ultimately? I just don’t think that you want it bad enough and even if you did, your reasons for wanting to be on top are selfish and self-serving at best. You’d only want to be champion again to silence the haters and pad your resume and that’s not the kind of champion this company needs.

And finally…”

I took a bit of a pause and a sigh. I thought back to the tag match and how Kayla got the pin and how much that was bothering me some and I did everything I could to keep my composure as I began to address the champion that I dethroned.”

“You had to know that I was going to save Kayla Richards for last. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t agree with the way she carries herself at times, but I’ve never gone out and blatantly disrespected her or said that she doesn’t deserve anything or even rooted for her to fail the way others have. Here’s how I realistically see this match going: Cassie and Mercedes are going to cancel each other out. Necra and Candy are going to do the same. For all of the disagreements that we have, I think we can both agree that we SHOULD be and WILL be the final two in this thing. Now, also knowing Kayla like I think I do, she might come out of the gates and seeing the people in the chamber match and she might even think that half the wrestlers in this thing shouldn’t be in this thing at all and she’s going to be wishing that wrestlers of better quality like Julianna, Bella and Victoria were in this match. Fine. She can have her opinions as abrasive as they are. And Kayla, I know you’ve had a history of pointing out how you’ve had opponents that have beaten you before, but the moment you get a rematch, you end up beating them right back.

The likes of Keira Fisher and Melissa fall into that category as far as the Internet Championship was concerned, but let me be blunt here: Melissa might have been a strong Bombshell with potential, but she didn’t quite meet that and I KNOW I am better than her. Keira might be the Hall of Famer that she is, but I’ve faced her multiple times and even a time when the Internet Championship is on the line. You lost the belt to her, I didn’t. Hell, she never beat me in a match whenever we faced so I KNOW I am better than Keira. I get it, you’ve had successes in rematches, but when you factor in the chamber, that trend of yours is going to be in some massive trouble and also, our last match? It was a reverse situation of that ‘rematch situation’ where your opponent was the one that evened the score and that’s exactly what I did. You might have a little more momentum having gotten the pin in that tag match and getting a win over Bea last week, but I’m even more determined to keep this than I was to win it from you in the first place and I don’t give a shit if this match is happening in Tucson where you beat me at High Stakes, I will STILL find a way to win. The pressure has shifted the other way and you’re coming into this KNOWING that this might be it for you…

That if you don’t win this chamber and come away with the championship again, you could find yourself at the back of the line. I know the feeling being there at Inception, but I managed to pull through and come away with the championship. That pressure HAS to be eating away at you KNOWING how you think and KNOWING that you’ve always had that all or nothing mindset AND that ‘having to silence people’ mindset. If that wasn’t enough? You’ve got this new Aaron girl nipping at your heals and all of this personal drama with Finn and as we’ve seen in recent weeks, that has been quite the distraction for you and that’s something that you’re not going to easily put out of your mind while I don’t carry any outside distractions coming into this thing. Aside from maybe some of my own obstacles that I have to overcome mentally to win this thing, I am not tied up in a war with someone else and that means I’ll be more focused and I’ll be more ready while you continue to be in your own head as you typically are without that Aaron distraction to begin with. You can talk about your ‘rematch’ trend all you want and you can sing to the high heavens how in a rematch, you always get the person that beats you back, but this is NOT going to be one of those times, I WILL buck that trend along with all the other trends that I’ve mentioned already and you might even wish that you never gave me that rematch at Inception to begin with. You’re going to be my toughest challenge of the five that I’m facing at Blaze of Glory, but in my second run in this company, as I proved once and for all when I defeated you, I’ve only gotten stronger and I will CONTINUE to be stronger no matter what ANY result in ANY match has to say and more than anything else, that’s how I’ve been able to learn how to get out of my own way and meet my fullest potential.

When I eliminate you at the end and when I come away STILL the SCW Bombshells World Champion, that potential is going to come out of me now more than it ever has at any point in my career.

With that, I shut the camera off and decide to take in the serene nature and the peaceful environment of Mount Lemmon. Going into a brutal first title defense, I’m going to need all of the mental peace that I can get.