Post by Roxxie Roberts on Mar 5, 2014 13:46:01 GMT -5
(Four weeks prior)
Los Angele's, A place I had forgot existed. It has been six long years since I set foot in this city. It's name had become a whisper in the wind. There is one thing about wind, it always comes back. It may not be the same direction, blowing the same debris your way, but it's return is inevitable.
Same as my career.
I couldn't help take a deep breath, the thick smog the fuzzy gray skyline. You could feel the pollution affecting your lungs in an instant. In a twisted way, it had a sense of calming. I grasped the lining of my leather jacket tightly and looked beyond the boardwalk helplessly picturing small glimpses of the past.
In the frozen moment I had been unaware of my surroundings and struck to the ground, face plunged in to the cold dirt. I felt my skin writher with anger and my blood boil. I stood up calmly brushing particles of mud and some grains of rock from my pants and turn to two men brawling on the dead grass behind me.
It bewildered me for a moment; until I caught the glimpse of the man who wore the dark washed pants, and a sleeved long white graphic shirt, and a black sweatshirt underneath his jacket, until it was ripped off by the man with the grudge. He was unusually ripped, and had short blond hair. In that moment my heart stopped...
Shaking off my shock, I leaped forward and grasped this man by the arms. He shared the same look of shock and tried to decipher the cause of my actions. The man behind me had no intentions of being patient in this odd occurrence and came up behind me with a hand to my shoulder. Like hell I was living down this moment... I reached behind me and grabbed the man's arm, spun and twisted it behind his back and finishing him with a back cracking kick that sent his face bouncing off a park bench.
"You shouldn't have done that..." I spat out towards the ground.
He still stood there, slightly cocked to one side. The shock on his face was replaced with disbelief. I slowly approached him, as a few crowding people went to the aid of the sore loser who was crying wolf while rolling on the ground. He clasped his nose tightly and muttered stupid bitch below his breath; but at this point my care had vanished.
"Who are you.." he whispered softly in question.
I stopped in position abruptly, thinking to myself that my eyes were deceiving me. Maybe from hope, from the pain in my heart, or maybe what I believed to this point wasn't true. I didn't know how to respond. My eyes followed his face, down his arms and to his feet. I was about to turn away for a moment, and the distinct shadow of skin ink below his white shirt caught my eye, the same exact ink.
My eyes were not deceiving me.
But what did it matter, he obviously didn't recognize or remember me. I took a few steps back and looked down at my feet, eyes drifting to the man who continued to curse me beneath his sobbing breath. I shook my head and lifted my hand in apologies.
"I'm sorry, my mistake... you remind me of somebody." I slipped up, finally answering his question and began to walk away head held low and hands in my pocket.
__________________________________________________________
(Current day)
"You going to live?"
I turned my body, looking towards the entrance of the locker room I was currently inhabiting. Those pale blue eyes piercing my thoughts. He had a smirk on his face, a muscle shirt, elbow and knee pads. He lent against the doorway, arms crossed.
"Me, live? I'm not the one wrestling tonight." I responded, caught off guard and may I add pathetically said. He snorted offensively in response. I knew he wasn't happy with Brian Hollywood's choice of match up.
"You're the lucky one," He replied, eyes rolling. He gestured for me to come to the door. "Let's go, we have things to do before I face the humiliation that is PWX!"
Los Angele's, A place I had forgot existed. It has been six long years since I set foot in this city. It's name had become a whisper in the wind. There is one thing about wind, it always comes back. It may not be the same direction, blowing the same debris your way, but it's return is inevitable.
Same as my career.
I couldn't help take a deep breath, the thick smog the fuzzy gray skyline. You could feel the pollution affecting your lungs in an instant. In a twisted way, it had a sense of calming. I grasped the lining of my leather jacket tightly and looked beyond the boardwalk helplessly picturing small glimpses of the past.
In the frozen moment I had been unaware of my surroundings and struck to the ground, face plunged in to the cold dirt. I felt my skin writher with anger and my blood boil. I stood up calmly brushing particles of mud and some grains of rock from my pants and turn to two men brawling on the dead grass behind me.
It bewildered me for a moment; until I caught the glimpse of the man who wore the dark washed pants, and a sleeved long white graphic shirt, and a black sweatshirt underneath his jacket, until it was ripped off by the man with the grudge. He was unusually ripped, and had short blond hair. In that moment my heart stopped...
Shaking off my shock, I leaped forward and grasped this man by the arms. He shared the same look of shock and tried to decipher the cause of my actions. The man behind me had no intentions of being patient in this odd occurrence and came up behind me with a hand to my shoulder. Like hell I was living down this moment... I reached behind me and grabbed the man's arm, spun and twisted it behind his back and finishing him with a back cracking kick that sent his face bouncing off a park bench.
"You shouldn't have done that..." I spat out towards the ground.
He still stood there, slightly cocked to one side. The shock on his face was replaced with disbelief. I slowly approached him, as a few crowding people went to the aid of the sore loser who was crying wolf while rolling on the ground. He clasped his nose tightly and muttered stupid bitch below his breath; but at this point my care had vanished.
"Who are you.." he whispered softly in question.
I stopped in position abruptly, thinking to myself that my eyes were deceiving me. Maybe from hope, from the pain in my heart, or maybe what I believed to this point wasn't true. I didn't know how to respond. My eyes followed his face, down his arms and to his feet. I was about to turn away for a moment, and the distinct shadow of skin ink below his white shirt caught my eye, the same exact ink.
My eyes were not deceiving me.
But what did it matter, he obviously didn't recognize or remember me. I took a few steps back and looked down at my feet, eyes drifting to the man who continued to curse me beneath his sobbing breath. I shook my head and lifted my hand in apologies.
"I'm sorry, my mistake... you remind me of somebody." I slipped up, finally answering his question and began to walk away head held low and hands in my pocket.
__________________________________________________________
(Current day)
"You going to live?"
I turned my body, looking towards the entrance of the locker room I was currently inhabiting. Those pale blue eyes piercing my thoughts. He had a smirk on his face, a muscle shirt, elbow and knee pads. He lent against the doorway, arms crossed.
"Me, live? I'm not the one wrestling tonight." I responded, caught off guard and may I add pathetically said. He snorted offensively in response. I knew he wasn't happy with Brian Hollywood's choice of match up.
"You're the lucky one," He replied, eyes rolling. He gestured for me to come to the door. "Let's go, we have things to do before I face the humiliation that is PWX!"
