Post by #ChewySweettartsLife on Sept 21, 2013 0:03:06 GMT -6
(This was the CD to one of my PDW RPs, but it connects to my RP for NCIW. So it's worth a look.)
(The music pounds through my head as I sway with it, eyes closed letting the steady bass dictate the way my body moves. In my right hand is the beloved Red Solo cup, in my left is the glow stick that I’d been twirling between my fingers along with the music.
Below my spot on the balcony, the party goers revel in various stages of drunk, enjoying the flashing lights and lively music. Men dressed heavily in drag, women wearing sparkling, feathery masquerade masks, all scantily clad. Bodies writhing all over dance floor of the club that was having a costume theme night. I didn’t participate myself, I kept it simple in designer jeans, a red lace camisole and ankle high black stiletto boots. A look around the club shows me that I’m not the only PDW star who decided to make this their spot tonight. Several are mingling with the finest of New York City’s drag queens and cosplay heroes.
From my vantage point on the balcony, I was well hidden from view, just as I wanted. My mind was chasing itself around with the same three topics: How much I missed Zero, my newest business ventures and my upcoming championship match for the Next Big Thing title at Urban Warfare on Thursday. I was drunk from the absinthe I had been gifted by one of the prettier drag queens earlier in the night and the music seemed to move through my veins. Even with the same three thoughts coursing through my brain, the absinthe and the music managed to keep me in a pleasant state, hovering between reality and a psychedelic odyssey. I closed my eyes and continued to sway and bob my body, allowing the steady stream of hyper European techno to allow reality to take leave completely.)
---: Heather! Earth to Heather, are you still with us?
(Reluctantly, I open my eyes slowly and roll my head in the direction of the woman’s voice. Such a familiar voice, that soft Southern accent so similar to mine… But it couldn’t be. I find her face is distorted and I blink several times in an attempt to focus. Slowly but surely the image clears up and I’m looking into the face of… My sister Holly? But how… My beloved baby sister Holly has been dead for several years now, how could she possibly be standing in front of me?
I reach out to touch her but feel nothing but air. Yet there she stands, dressed in a white, flowing dress. She looks exactly like she did the last time I saw her, the spitting image of Tegan, the daughter she’d left behind. I reach out to hug her but nearly fall on my face in the attempt. Holly laughs without mirth and shakes her head. My breath catches in my throat as I blink more times, trying to force out the hallucination, but she remained where she stood.)
Heather Halliwell: Holly… How?
Holly Halliwell: What are you doing, Heather?
Heather Halliwell: I’m… enjoying the affect this absinthe is having on my brain, apparently.
(This makes me giggle uncontrollably for some reason. Holly shakes her head in disgust.)
Holly Halliwell: That’s not what I mean and you know it. What are you doing with your life? Why are you throwing it all away?
(I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, another familiar voice comes from behind me.)
---: Because she’s soft, because she’s weak and doesn’t know how to live for herself. She must have gotten dumped again, why else would she be drinking like this? Am I right, sis?
(Holly smirks as I turn my head to the left and gasp to see my recently deceased older sister, Hallie. She too looks just as she did the last time I saw her, and she’s wearing the same sort of dress as Holly except in black. I feel a sharp pain in my chest and realize that I am afraid now.)
Heather Halliwell: Hallie… Not you, why you?
Hallie Halliwell: Aw, what’s wrong, Heather? Not happy to see me?
Heather Halliwell: Should I be?
Hallie Halliwell: Well considering you nearly beat me to death over Sean Graves then left me in that nut house to die… Nah, I guess you wouldn’t be happy to see me now.
(Hallie tips back her head and let forth an evil, spine chilling laugh. I stumble back from the balcony, grabbing my head with both hands.)
Heather Halliwell: I’m sorry… I was wrong, I know that now… Please, Hallie…
Holly Halliwell: You know, people think death is the worst punishment. But that’s not quite true, is it?
(Hallie shakes her head, her lips curling into a sneer as Holly’s eyes glimmer with a hatred I’d never seen in them when she was alive. My sweet, gentle baby sister… What had changed with in her through death?)
Hallie Halliwell: No, the worst punishment for any human being is that they have to live with the burden of the things they’ve done. Living with the guilt of how they let one sister down…
(Hallie gestures towards Holly who nods emphatically in agreement.)
Holly Halliwell: And with the guilt of having the blood of the other sister directly on her hands.
Hallie Halliwell: How she has to live knowing she’ll never truly be happy with any man because she screwed things up so horribly with her beloved Steve Jason.
(Holly chuckles scornfully.)
Holly Halliwell: How she’ll never feel fulfilled as a mother because she puts too much stock into finding the next guy to warm her bed.
(I couldn’t listen to this anymore. Dropping my drink to the floor, I put my hands over my ears and shake my head, pleading with them to stop. But my voice was gone, it’s as if they had put me on mute somehow.)
Hallie Halliwell: How she’ll never feel fulfilled in her career because she’s not as young as she used to be. Because she wasted her prime years in wishing she could have her dancing career back. Only to realize, much too late, that she could have been something great in the career that brought her back to life.
Holly Halliwell: You really think you can turn things around for yourself now, Heather? You really think you have what it takes to beat Yun and Arkia? You, who turned your nose up at wrestling for so long, only doing it because it paid the bills and you were too vain to ever get a desk job, to earn a living doing something that wouldn’t keep you in the public’s eye?
Hallie Halliwell: Do you really think anyone in the wrestling business takes you seriously anymore? You, who is a reputed cougar, a notorious whore? You, who is up there in age, declining in skill and delusional in her view of her talent?
(Both of my sisters sneer down at me as I drop to my knees, trying to scream to drown out their cold voices, their cruel words. I can feel their “breath” on me. It was cold, like a ghost would be. I can feel the hot tears running down my cheeks but have no idea when I actually started sobbing.)
Holly Halliwell: You don’t hear what they say about you, what they REALLY say when you aren’t around. They call you old. They call you useless. You are the butt of all their jokes. Even the ones who “love” you, claim to be your friend. Cordelia Stevenson. Zack Lifer. Cindy Parker. They don’t really like you, how can they when they don’t even respect you?
Hallie Halliwell: Why do you think Dom Harter desired someone else to you? Why do you think Zero McHannon broke things off with you? All they saw from you was an easy lay and a lot of money. Someone who they could get whatever they wanted from, knowing that you’d drop everything for them. Knowing how desperate you are to find someone to validate you, someone who can assure your ego that you are still young and pretty enough to land any man she wants.
Holly Halliwell: You made it so easy for them. All they had to do was show you a little bit of affectionate, say a few nice words, and you were putty in their hands. They could bend and mold you any way they wanted and when they were done, they tossed you aside. Dropped you off in the trash like the garbage you’ve become.
Heather Halliwell: Stop it… Please…
(Holly and Hallie laugh down at me, reveling in my agony. Their words were reflections of everything I’d been trying so hard to deny to myself. Hard truths that I didn’t want to admit to myself that were manifesting in my very soul. I wanted to run from this place, to run from the apparitions of my sisters who were being so cruel in their honesty… In my own honesty which I had been trying so hard to keep locked away and ignored. Now they couldn’t be stopped and I couldn’t stop this from happening.)
Holly Halliwell: Why should we stop, we’re far from done! We haven’t even gotten started on what a mother you are those twins… And MY daughter.
Hallie Halliwell: Mother of the year, this one.
Holly Halliwell: You ain’t kidding! You’ve just got to love the way she wanted those children back so badly. The way she fought so hard to get some kind of custody back… And for what? Steve was generous enough to go to the courts to allow you longer increments with those children, without the court supervisor. And you barely ever take them. You see them for a couple days when you wrestle for Exodus, but you never fly them out to Philly to be with you for any period of time.
Heather Halliwell: I have, though…
Hallie Halliwell: Oh sure, you’ve taken them what, five or six times since SJ allowed you the joint custody? And look what happened this last time, in Miami! You had your children and what did you do? You left them with Star and T-Money, got obliterated and fucked Zero all night. And then, as if that weren’t bad enough, you had Zero with you in your hotel room almost every night after that. Even with your children there, with your niece there. And it never occurred to you that this might be setting a bad example on those two, beautiful little girls?
Holly Halliwell: Do you realize how badly you’ve broken my baby’s heart? Tegan cries all the time for her Aunt Heather, wishing she’d quit wrestling and just come home so you, Steve and the kids can be a family again, just like you used to be. She’s an observant little girl, she sees what’s going on. She sees how often you switch men, she just doesn’t understand why you’re doing it and what is actually going on. She doesn’t know what to make of what you’re doing and doesn’t understand why you just don’t go back to Steve, when you say that you still love him. You’re confusing her.
Hallie Halliwell: You’ve become such a pathetic shell of yourself. Instead of focusing on making your career worth something or becoming a better mother, your big concern is your broken heart over Zero McHannon? Really?
Holly Halliwell: Seriously, that guy is a bag of turds. He wasn’t even worth your time to begin with. You can cry and moan and plead that you “know him better” than everyone else all you want. The fact of the matter is, you knew he was a risk, you took and you got burned. Boo freaking hoo. Get off your ass and move on. He’s not coming back, Heather. He’s not coming back because he can’t love you. He doesn’t want to love you. He just wanted to have his fun and he got it. Then he got bored and dropped you like a rock.
(This was more than I could take. I got shakily to my feet and turned towards the stairs that led to the dance floor. I was vaguely aware of several pairs of hands grabbing at me. A few people tried to pull me in for a dance, but I pushed my way through the crowd. It was only now that I realized that the music and the noise of the people had disappeared. I continued to shove my way through the crowd, attempting to flee. But the voices of my sisters still followed.)
Hallie Halliwell: There she goes, trying to run from the truth again!
Holly Halliwell: You’ll never escape from the truth, Heather. You’ll never escape, you’ll never be free until you accept what is and do something to change it!
Hallie Halliwell: She won’t change, Holly. A woman like Heather can’t change. She’s made her bed, now she has to lie in it…
(I finally make it outside and stumble blindly through the streets. As the cool air hits me, the voices of my sisters fade along with their images. Still, all the lights are a blur, the faces that pass more are merely a kaleidoscope of distorted shapes and colors. I continue to walk, choosing to follow the direction the cool air is coming from. It feels like I’m walking for hours. My feet hurt from the boot heels, I’m now aware of the knees of my pants being wet. I must have fallen into my spilled drink at the club. I can feel sweat starting to trickle down my face, between my cleavage and making my shirt cling to my back.
I quite suddenly and painfully run into something cold, hard and unmoving. I blink hard and fast, trying to force my vision to clear up some. I feel around and realize that I’ve hit a bench that seems unoccupied at the moment. Exhausted, I slump down and fall asleep, not caring who finds me there, as long as they don’t disturb me…)
The Next Morning
(I open my eyes, a painful task from the mixture of the sun beating down on my face and the hangover I was feeling even in my sleep. I’m only slightly aware of the sounds of the city behind me and the soft sound of the water hitting the stone wall in front of me.
Sitting up reluctantly, I rub my eyes, wincing at the sharp pains that stab my brain all the way down to my toes. I yawn, stretch and look around. Horror and humility washes over me as I realize that I passed out on a bench in the middle of New York City in a drunken haze. The memory of my hallucination at the club pushes itself into the forefront of my mind and I groan loudly.
I check my pockets and am amazed to find that both my phone, wallet and rental car keys are still there. My phone still has battery life and shows me that it’s almost 10:30 in the morning. I have many a texts, most of them from Cordy, inquiring as to where I was. Cordy’s get increasingly panicked and are followed up by several phone calls and voice messages. I call my voicemail and rub my forehead as I listen to the messages. The last one, one from about 9 o’clock this morning, jerks me forcefully back into the here and now.)
“Heather, this is Manny with the PDW camera crew. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for that promo at 11. Call me back when you get this. Thanks.”
(Holy fuck, that promo was at eleven?! A glance at my phone clock again reads 10:38. I have absolutely no idea where I’ve parked my rental, let alone get myself to my hotel to clean myself up and change clothes.
I had absolutely no choice. Hung-over, dirty with ripped clothes and no makeup, I was cutting this promo against Arkia and Yun with what little dignity and pride I had left. Holding my head up as high as I could manage without causing my brain to throb again, I plunge my way straight into the busy streets of New York City to keep my appointment with Manny the camera man…)
(The music pounds through my head as I sway with it, eyes closed letting the steady bass dictate the way my body moves. In my right hand is the beloved Red Solo cup, in my left is the glow stick that I’d been twirling between my fingers along with the music.
Below my spot on the balcony, the party goers revel in various stages of drunk, enjoying the flashing lights and lively music. Men dressed heavily in drag, women wearing sparkling, feathery masquerade masks, all scantily clad. Bodies writhing all over dance floor of the club that was having a costume theme night. I didn’t participate myself, I kept it simple in designer jeans, a red lace camisole and ankle high black stiletto boots. A look around the club shows me that I’m not the only PDW star who decided to make this their spot tonight. Several are mingling with the finest of New York City’s drag queens and cosplay heroes.
From my vantage point on the balcony, I was well hidden from view, just as I wanted. My mind was chasing itself around with the same three topics: How much I missed Zero, my newest business ventures and my upcoming championship match for the Next Big Thing title at Urban Warfare on Thursday. I was drunk from the absinthe I had been gifted by one of the prettier drag queens earlier in the night and the music seemed to move through my veins. Even with the same three thoughts coursing through my brain, the absinthe and the music managed to keep me in a pleasant state, hovering between reality and a psychedelic odyssey. I closed my eyes and continued to sway and bob my body, allowing the steady stream of hyper European techno to allow reality to take leave completely.)
---: Heather! Earth to Heather, are you still with us?
(Reluctantly, I open my eyes slowly and roll my head in the direction of the woman’s voice. Such a familiar voice, that soft Southern accent so similar to mine… But it couldn’t be. I find her face is distorted and I blink several times in an attempt to focus. Slowly but surely the image clears up and I’m looking into the face of… My sister Holly? But how… My beloved baby sister Holly has been dead for several years now, how could she possibly be standing in front of me?
I reach out to touch her but feel nothing but air. Yet there she stands, dressed in a white, flowing dress. She looks exactly like she did the last time I saw her, the spitting image of Tegan, the daughter she’d left behind. I reach out to hug her but nearly fall on my face in the attempt. Holly laughs without mirth and shakes her head. My breath catches in my throat as I blink more times, trying to force out the hallucination, but she remained where she stood.)
Heather Halliwell: Holly… How?
Holly Halliwell: What are you doing, Heather?
Heather Halliwell: I’m… enjoying the affect this absinthe is having on my brain, apparently.
(This makes me giggle uncontrollably for some reason. Holly shakes her head in disgust.)
Holly Halliwell: That’s not what I mean and you know it. What are you doing with your life? Why are you throwing it all away?
(I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, another familiar voice comes from behind me.)
---: Because she’s soft, because she’s weak and doesn’t know how to live for herself. She must have gotten dumped again, why else would she be drinking like this? Am I right, sis?
(Holly smirks as I turn my head to the left and gasp to see my recently deceased older sister, Hallie. She too looks just as she did the last time I saw her, and she’s wearing the same sort of dress as Holly except in black. I feel a sharp pain in my chest and realize that I am afraid now.)
Heather Halliwell: Hallie… Not you, why you?
Hallie Halliwell: Aw, what’s wrong, Heather? Not happy to see me?
Heather Halliwell: Should I be?
Hallie Halliwell: Well considering you nearly beat me to death over Sean Graves then left me in that nut house to die… Nah, I guess you wouldn’t be happy to see me now.
(Hallie tips back her head and let forth an evil, spine chilling laugh. I stumble back from the balcony, grabbing my head with both hands.)
Heather Halliwell: I’m sorry… I was wrong, I know that now… Please, Hallie…
Holly Halliwell: You know, people think death is the worst punishment. But that’s not quite true, is it?
(Hallie shakes her head, her lips curling into a sneer as Holly’s eyes glimmer with a hatred I’d never seen in them when she was alive. My sweet, gentle baby sister… What had changed with in her through death?)
Hallie Halliwell: No, the worst punishment for any human being is that they have to live with the burden of the things they’ve done. Living with the guilt of how they let one sister down…
(Hallie gestures towards Holly who nods emphatically in agreement.)
Holly Halliwell: And with the guilt of having the blood of the other sister directly on her hands.
Hallie Halliwell: How she has to live knowing she’ll never truly be happy with any man because she screwed things up so horribly with her beloved Steve Jason.
(Holly chuckles scornfully.)
Holly Halliwell: How she’ll never feel fulfilled as a mother because she puts too much stock into finding the next guy to warm her bed.
(I couldn’t listen to this anymore. Dropping my drink to the floor, I put my hands over my ears and shake my head, pleading with them to stop. But my voice was gone, it’s as if they had put me on mute somehow.)
Hallie Halliwell: How she’ll never feel fulfilled in her career because she’s not as young as she used to be. Because she wasted her prime years in wishing she could have her dancing career back. Only to realize, much too late, that she could have been something great in the career that brought her back to life.
Holly Halliwell: You really think you can turn things around for yourself now, Heather? You really think you have what it takes to beat Yun and Arkia? You, who turned your nose up at wrestling for so long, only doing it because it paid the bills and you were too vain to ever get a desk job, to earn a living doing something that wouldn’t keep you in the public’s eye?
Hallie Halliwell: Do you really think anyone in the wrestling business takes you seriously anymore? You, who is a reputed cougar, a notorious whore? You, who is up there in age, declining in skill and delusional in her view of her talent?
(Both of my sisters sneer down at me as I drop to my knees, trying to scream to drown out their cold voices, their cruel words. I can feel their “breath” on me. It was cold, like a ghost would be. I can feel the hot tears running down my cheeks but have no idea when I actually started sobbing.)
Holly Halliwell: You don’t hear what they say about you, what they REALLY say when you aren’t around. They call you old. They call you useless. You are the butt of all their jokes. Even the ones who “love” you, claim to be your friend. Cordelia Stevenson. Zack Lifer. Cindy Parker. They don’t really like you, how can they when they don’t even respect you?
Hallie Halliwell: Why do you think Dom Harter desired someone else to you? Why do you think Zero McHannon broke things off with you? All they saw from you was an easy lay and a lot of money. Someone who they could get whatever they wanted from, knowing that you’d drop everything for them. Knowing how desperate you are to find someone to validate you, someone who can assure your ego that you are still young and pretty enough to land any man she wants.
Holly Halliwell: You made it so easy for them. All they had to do was show you a little bit of affectionate, say a few nice words, and you were putty in their hands. They could bend and mold you any way they wanted and when they were done, they tossed you aside. Dropped you off in the trash like the garbage you’ve become.
Heather Halliwell: Stop it… Please…
(Holly and Hallie laugh down at me, reveling in my agony. Their words were reflections of everything I’d been trying so hard to deny to myself. Hard truths that I didn’t want to admit to myself that were manifesting in my very soul. I wanted to run from this place, to run from the apparitions of my sisters who were being so cruel in their honesty… In my own honesty which I had been trying so hard to keep locked away and ignored. Now they couldn’t be stopped and I couldn’t stop this from happening.)
Holly Halliwell: Why should we stop, we’re far from done! We haven’t even gotten started on what a mother you are those twins… And MY daughter.
Hallie Halliwell: Mother of the year, this one.
Holly Halliwell: You ain’t kidding! You’ve just got to love the way she wanted those children back so badly. The way she fought so hard to get some kind of custody back… And for what? Steve was generous enough to go to the courts to allow you longer increments with those children, without the court supervisor. And you barely ever take them. You see them for a couple days when you wrestle for Exodus, but you never fly them out to Philly to be with you for any period of time.
Heather Halliwell: I have, though…
Hallie Halliwell: Oh sure, you’ve taken them what, five or six times since SJ allowed you the joint custody? And look what happened this last time, in Miami! You had your children and what did you do? You left them with Star and T-Money, got obliterated and fucked Zero all night. And then, as if that weren’t bad enough, you had Zero with you in your hotel room almost every night after that. Even with your children there, with your niece there. And it never occurred to you that this might be setting a bad example on those two, beautiful little girls?
Holly Halliwell: Do you realize how badly you’ve broken my baby’s heart? Tegan cries all the time for her Aunt Heather, wishing she’d quit wrestling and just come home so you, Steve and the kids can be a family again, just like you used to be. She’s an observant little girl, she sees what’s going on. She sees how often you switch men, she just doesn’t understand why you’re doing it and what is actually going on. She doesn’t know what to make of what you’re doing and doesn’t understand why you just don’t go back to Steve, when you say that you still love him. You’re confusing her.
Hallie Halliwell: You’ve become such a pathetic shell of yourself. Instead of focusing on making your career worth something or becoming a better mother, your big concern is your broken heart over Zero McHannon? Really?
Holly Halliwell: Seriously, that guy is a bag of turds. He wasn’t even worth your time to begin with. You can cry and moan and plead that you “know him better” than everyone else all you want. The fact of the matter is, you knew he was a risk, you took and you got burned. Boo freaking hoo. Get off your ass and move on. He’s not coming back, Heather. He’s not coming back because he can’t love you. He doesn’t want to love you. He just wanted to have his fun and he got it. Then he got bored and dropped you like a rock.
(This was more than I could take. I got shakily to my feet and turned towards the stairs that led to the dance floor. I was vaguely aware of several pairs of hands grabbing at me. A few people tried to pull me in for a dance, but I pushed my way through the crowd. It was only now that I realized that the music and the noise of the people had disappeared. I continued to shove my way through the crowd, attempting to flee. But the voices of my sisters still followed.)
Hallie Halliwell: There she goes, trying to run from the truth again!
Holly Halliwell: You’ll never escape from the truth, Heather. You’ll never escape, you’ll never be free until you accept what is and do something to change it!
Hallie Halliwell: She won’t change, Holly. A woman like Heather can’t change. She’s made her bed, now she has to lie in it…
(I finally make it outside and stumble blindly through the streets. As the cool air hits me, the voices of my sisters fade along with their images. Still, all the lights are a blur, the faces that pass more are merely a kaleidoscope of distorted shapes and colors. I continue to walk, choosing to follow the direction the cool air is coming from. It feels like I’m walking for hours. My feet hurt from the boot heels, I’m now aware of the knees of my pants being wet. I must have fallen into my spilled drink at the club. I can feel sweat starting to trickle down my face, between my cleavage and making my shirt cling to my back.
I quite suddenly and painfully run into something cold, hard and unmoving. I blink hard and fast, trying to force my vision to clear up some. I feel around and realize that I’ve hit a bench that seems unoccupied at the moment. Exhausted, I slump down and fall asleep, not caring who finds me there, as long as they don’t disturb me…)
The Next Morning
(I open my eyes, a painful task from the mixture of the sun beating down on my face and the hangover I was feeling even in my sleep. I’m only slightly aware of the sounds of the city behind me and the soft sound of the water hitting the stone wall in front of me.
Sitting up reluctantly, I rub my eyes, wincing at the sharp pains that stab my brain all the way down to my toes. I yawn, stretch and look around. Horror and humility washes over me as I realize that I passed out on a bench in the middle of New York City in a drunken haze. The memory of my hallucination at the club pushes itself into the forefront of my mind and I groan loudly.
I check my pockets and am amazed to find that both my phone, wallet and rental car keys are still there. My phone still has battery life and shows me that it’s almost 10:30 in the morning. I have many a texts, most of them from Cordy, inquiring as to where I was. Cordy’s get increasingly panicked and are followed up by several phone calls and voice messages. I call my voicemail and rub my forehead as I listen to the messages. The last one, one from about 9 o’clock this morning, jerks me forcefully back into the here and now.)
“Heather, this is Manny with the PDW camera crew. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for that promo at 11. Call me back when you get this. Thanks.”
(Holy fuck, that promo was at eleven?! A glance at my phone clock again reads 10:38. I have absolutely no idea where I’ve parked my rental, let alone get myself to my hotel to clean myself up and change clothes.
I had absolutely no choice. Hung-over, dirty with ripped clothes and no makeup, I was cutting this promo against Arkia and Yun with what little dignity and pride I had left. Holding my head up as high as I could manage without causing my brain to throb again, I plunge my way straight into the busy streets of New York City to keep my appointment with Manny the camera man…)
