Post by โฎ๐๐๐๐๐โฎ on Aug 14, 2023 4:17:14 GMT -5
"Just relax!" I felt his hands on me. On every part of me. He was holding me down on the dirty bathroom floor and his knee was in my neck. I kept kicking and screaming but he only held me down with a much harder grip on my neck. "Stop!" Demanding. A part of me liked it but not right now. He let up on my neck and pulled me up from the Clorox scented floor and pushed me against the wall. "Storm, stop fighting me!" The room was spinning. My head was dizzy. My heart was racing. My stomach was in my throat. "You're going to make things worse!"
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
"Everything ok in there?"
"She's fine, too much to drink."
I felt cold. Nauseous. I was exhausted and my mouth was dry. "If you don't let me help you you're going to die in this fucking bathroom Storm so stop fighting me." His fingers entered my mouth and slithered down my throat. All it took was one flick of that little dangly thing in the back of my throat and everything in my stomach came up. One. Two. Three. Four. Dry heave. Five. The pills floated around the top of the toilet bowl. Every drop of alcohol that wasnโt digested yet mixed with what little water was in the bowl. I fell backwards into his arms and could feel his clammy hands brush my hair from my face. I shook uncontrollably. My heart rate slowed. My breathing was shallow.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
"Hey, other people need to use the bathroom."
"Piss outside in the flower pot dumbass we're busy!"
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
"Wear a condom!"
My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I fell unconscious.
"Storm." Faint.
"Storm." Echos.
Was I drowning? "Stormi! Damn it, wake up!"
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
"Call 911!" Wow. Much urgency.
"What? No dumbass your friend knew what she was getting into. We're not catching the fall because she couldn't handle everything that was given to her."
"She's going to die. Do you really want a dead girl in your house?" Panic but not at this disco.
"Do you really think the cops are going to care about an overdosed druggy? She's your problem bud."
SLAM.
Inaudible mumbling. Slurred words. "Storm?" I was laying in the bathtub with him behind me holding me up as water rushed over the both of us. Black eyeliner streaked down my face and ran in my eyes causing them to burn. I blinked rapidly and rolled my eyes but nothing seemed to stop the stinging. "Eyes." I tried to move my face but couldn't feel much of anything. The water suddenly stopped and I found something wet to run my face across.
"I told you Storm to take it easy the first time. You could've died."
Oops.
......................Sleep...........................
"A useless drug addicted alcoholic. I gave birth to a useless drug addicted alcoholic!" My mother screamed from across the breakfast table while my dad sat with his newspaper in his hand. I woke up on the perfect lawn in front of our house strung out and still trying to come down from the night before. Regina walked in carrying a plate in each hand of freshly made eggs, toast, and some sort of mixed fruit. She sat a plate down in front of me and one in front of my mother while the other help sat a plate in front of my mother and poured her organ juice in a wine glass.
Regina had been my nanny and practically my mother. Sheโs the one that raised me while my dad was being a hot shot lawyer and my mother was out being a socialite. I had everything I wanted but as I got older the less attention I had from my parents so I did things to get their attention. I guess I never grew up but who wants to grow up. My parents were boring and Iโm pretty sure itโs because they grew up.
"Richard!" She screamed surprisingly louder than before, making my dads head pop up from behind his newspaper. "Yes dear?" He was way more calm than she was but he also knew what I had been doing. "Are you going to say something?"
No. No he wasn't.
My mom and dad were powerful people with no control over their daughter. I watched everyone bow to them growing up and my whole childhood I couldn't wait until I was old enough to disappoint them. My mother thought money gave her the right to treat people however she wanted including me. My dad on the other hand thought by bailing me out of every bad situation he was showing me love. I guess to him it was love.
"I want her out of this house. How many times have we bailed you out of jail? How many times have we cleaned up your messes?" Only cleaning up my messes so their name wouldn't be tarnished. "You're a grown woman but you are still acting like an out of control teenager!!" A lot of power and force behind that statement. I was kicked out by the afternoon and high off heroin again before eight.
I wandered the streets that night since I didn't have a place to stay. I tried the shelter but they don't help obvious drug addicts. I tried to pay for a motel but every cent was pulled out of my account by mommy dearest. I ended up walking past a poster hanging up in a gym window, "Outcasts Wanted" was printed on it in big bold blue letters and some company was on the bottom along with an email and phone number. They must've been really desperate to market their wrestling company the way they did which was good for me. I wrote down the number on my hand with a sharpie and made sure to call the next day from a laundromat. I spoke to some talent manager before getting a direct deposit in my account and off to wrestling wonderland I went.
I've always been an outcast. I was rejected from society the moment I could think for myself because I didn't want to just mindlessly believe society had it right. I didn't want to work a dead end job just to barely afford food and a roof and I sure as hell didn't want to settle down and make babies. I could've had it made and been a part of the hierarchy thanks to my parents but I didn't want that. I was different. I thought differently. I looked different. I felt different. I was made for this company.
I never needed a pep talk to get me back up on my feet after being knocked down. I didn't have people calling me to tell me to step back from the ledge and do something I liked. I didn't give up after one oopsie and hid away for five years like a caveman. I never needed someone to remind me of what I was capable of. I never questioned myself so deeply because I got hurt and Iโve almost killed myself on numerous occasions. What I have done is realized that the only thing stopping me from doing anything is myself. The only time I ever need a pep talk is when I paid for three shots and can barely stand up to take the last one (and I pep talk myself damn it.)
Hard work and dedication doesn't get you shit at the end of the day when no one else sees it (and let's face it no one ever sees someone's hard work or dedication ever.) That's why I wasn't going to waste my time winning matches and doing what I was told because everyone overlooks the person who falls in line. I took what I wanted and got attention from the boss because hard work and dedication only give you something to pretend to be proud of when you don't actually have something to be proud of. Being told by someone who trained you that you have talent, drive, and passion doesn't mean a damn thing when you doubt yourself because of something someone else said. I've not been in this profession long but even I know if your opponent can discourage you so easily and get in your head so easily this probably isn't the profession for you bud. If you can be tricked and talked into thinking you suck then chances are you probably do suck. Then again maybe you donโt suck you just have low self-esteem. Trent strikes me as someone with low self-esteem.
Being an outcast doesn't need to be redefined by some loser who needs a pep talk to get back up. Outcast are what everyone else is scared to be. Trent isn't an outcast. Trent is just like the rest of the roster who want a championship for the recognition and fame. They all want to become number one contenders to prove something to eeeeeeeveryone else. That's what those stupid championships are about; bragging rights and "proving a point". I didn't come into wrestling because someone picked me up and put me on their pedestal. I didn't have a veteran in the business cheering me on from my corner of the ring to get me through the rough days. I didnโt get lucky and have someone sweep me up and teach me the ins and outs of this profession.
My reason for being here is I need to be here. I need to win a championship. I need to be in the ring every week. My need to be here is survival not desire or having some sort of dream. I'm driven by the fact I need a place to stay and food to eat. Even in wrestling I'm the outcast because instead of being here for the same reasons as everyone else I'm here because I need to survive. Before signing on the dotted line I asked how to get raises and the best raise was being a champion. I wanted my shot at the Elevate championship so I could win it and have a spot on the card every fucking week not because I'm a hard worker but because I need the cash. Everyone else here wants to live the glory days and Trent is one of those people. I'm here on survival. Every win puts more cash in my pocket, a roof over my head, food on my table, vodka in my stomach, and drugs in my veins. I didnโt come to wrestling because of some sad sap story about how I wasnโt loved enough as a child or because I need redemption. I came to wrestling for a check and a fix.
I have nothing to lose.
Iโm already at rock bottom.
