Post by Savannah Taylor on Jun 7, 2015 1:06:35 GMT -6
Monday, May 25th 2015
RIMAC Arena
San Diego, California
OFF CAMERA
The backstage portion of the famed RIMAC Arena was still teaming with excitement as the EXODUS on FX show was still going on. Out in the main arena, the fans are getting ready to be treated to one of the most anticipated matches of the evening, Zack Lifer versus Christian Kane. The opening strains of “You Give Love A Bad Name” echo over the sound system, causing the fans to go into a tizzy. As crazy as it was out there, it was just as crazy backstage. Wrestlers were milling about, either winding down from or getting ready for their matches. Production assistants and various backstage techs were making sure each and every aspect of the show went off without a hitch. Standing amidst the chaos in his natural habitat of backstage is ace interviewer Tom Matheny. He looks calm as can be with his microphone in his hand as he watches people walk past him, not paying him any attention. As he glances down the hall, he spots a figure walking towards him, one that had immediately grabbed his attention. Coming down the hall in his general direction was none other than Savannah Taylor. Still dressed in her ring attire, she has a very thin layer of sweat remaining on her skin as a result of her tag team match earlier in the show. Running a hand through her golden locks, she spots Matheny coming towards her and she can’t help but roll her eyes slightly. She had a feeling she knew what he was after.
Tom Matheny: Savannah! Excuse me, Savannah!
The blonde stops in her tracks and casts a glance at the interviewer, who has now hurried over to her side.
Savannah Taylor: What do you want?
Tom Matheny: I was hoping that I could have a moment of your time.
Savannah Taylor: And what makes you think I have anything to say, especially to someone such as yourself?
The reporter cocks his head ever so slightly to the side as he regards Savannah standing in front of him, her right hand placed on her hip as she wipes a small bead of sweat from her brow with her left hand.
Tom Matheny: Well, I was hoping to get a word with you regarding what happened out there moments ago.
Savannah purses her lips together as if she is thinking over Tom’s question, formulating the appropriate response.
Savannah Taylor: You mean what happened at the beginning of the show when that…..whoever Vorace is opened his mouth?
Tom Matheny: No, I wasn’t talking about that.
Savannah Taylor: Then you must be talking about how that useless idiot Kevin Hardaway nearly put half of the crowd to sleep the minute his music hit. Is that right? Because let me tell you, it takes a special kind of talent to pull that off, and Kevin Hardaway is quite “special.”
Tom Matheny: Actually, what I was talking about was what happened after your match.
Savannah Taylor: Oh, thaaaaaaaaat.
The slightest traces of a smirk begin to appear at the corners of her mouth as she folds her arms across her chest.
Savannah Taylor: So, go ahead Tom. Ask the question I know you are dying to ask. Finally make use of your journalism degree and ask the question that everyone will want to know come tomorrow morning.
Tom swallows a bit before he presses on.
Tom Matheny: Alright then. Why did you do it? Why did you seemingly kick the head off of Justin Brooks and turn your back on the entire crowd?
Savannah raises an eyebrow before holding her hand up mere inches from his face.
Savannah Taylor: Hold up. I turned my back on the fans? Are you serious? I mean, did those words actually come from your mouth? Since when did I “turn on the fans?” How can you turn on something that never fully supported you in the first place? Answer that for me, Tom.
Tom Matheny: I….uhhhh….well….
She cuts him off.
Savannah Taylor: Exactly. You can’t. Ever since my first day here in EXODUS, these fans haven’t given a damn whether I succeed or fail. These people, these sheep if you will, would rather blindly follow the actions and words of a false prophet and cheer who he TELLS them to cheer for. They can’t think for themselves. Because if they did, it would tear down everything that this current regime in charge has worked so hard at maintaining.
She pauses a second to unfold her arms a brush a few strands of hair that had fallen down into her face.
Savannah Taylor: Now, getting back to the point of you stopping me here in the hall when I have other things to do. Why did I kick the head off of Justin Brooks, you ask? It’s simple. He has something that I want, something that I need. I’ve had my sights set on becoming more than what these sheeple make me out to be. What better way of doing that than by becoming International champion?
Tom Matheny: Yeah, but did you have to go about it that way?
Savannah Taylor: What you have suggested I do, Tom? Go up to Jonathan Collins and say “Hey, you know I would REALLY like it if you would give me a shot at the International title, old buddy old pal.” Something like that? Newsflash Tom, I’m not exactly on Jonathan’s favorites list. I took matters into my own hands, which is something that not many people seem to want to do around EXODUS these days. Was my method unorthodox? Yes. Was my method controversial? Yes. But was my method effective? I guess you’ll have to go ask Justin that whenever he wakes up. Now are we done here?
Tom Matheny: Yeah, I would say we are.
Savannah Taylor: Good. The pleasure was all yours.
With that, she turns on her heel and continues her walk down the hall towards the room that was designated as her own locker room. She was well aware that the eyes of most everyone was on her, some looking upon her with disdain while others simply shook their heads. She pays them no mind as she reaches her destination and opens the heavy wooden door and steps inside. Letting the door shut with a resounding thud, she lets out a sigh that sounded like she had been holding that in for a while. Alone in her locker room, away from the din of both the backstage and the main arena, the quiet was a welcome, yet eerie respite from her daily life. Sitting down on the bench, she reaches into the small duffel bag next to her larger suitcase and searches for something to cut the tape binding her wrists. In her search, her fingers come across something that cases her to stop. Fiddling around for a few more seconds, she pulls out a notebook with a purple, pink, black and blue swirled cover. It was clear that this particular notebook had been written in many, many times due to the slight wear on the cover and the gently crinkled pages. With trembling hands, Savannah turns the pages until she comes to the last entry that she made. The date on the upper right hand corner of the page read May nineteenth, the day that she left Miami after attending the inaugural FGA pay per view.
“So, Miami certainly was a thing. It was nice to be on the other side of things for a change and to simply be a fan of this business. I got to meet some pretty chill people, mainly thanks to Heather and her pretty large social circle. Cordy Stevenson seems like a pretty nice person to be around. I can see why she and Heather click. Not only that, but Cordy is one damn good wrestler. I wouldn’t be opposed to stepping into the ring with her one of these days. We could put on a classic match. Getting to meet Seth was good too. He definitely seems like a nice person, talented too. Hanging out with him was a nice distraction towards the end of my trip. All in all, I had a great time. I was impressed with everything and I hope to catch them again sometime. However, it wasn’t a one hundred percent perfect trip. Despite being there with Heather and Angela and meeting everyone that I did, something wasn’t right. There was something that left me with infinitely more questions than answers. That something was Chandler.”
“I should have seen this coming. I guess I should have seen the writing on the wall. I honestly never thought in a million years that I would remotely see myself falling for someone like him. The circumstances were dubious, I will admit, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t gradually begin to fall for him. It got to the point where all anyone had to do was mention his name and I would just smile. Call me crazy, but I had found someone that didn’t see me as the horrible person that everyone else did. I found someone that saw past what others see and got to know the real me. I never thought that I would find someone like him. I honestly never considered the possibility that someone out there could make me see that maybe, just maybe people could change for the better. God knows how hard I am kicking myself right about now.”
“I should have told him exactly how I felt when I had the chance. I should have said something. Watching the FGA pay per view, things I saw only drove home the guilt I was feeling at not getting things out in the open sooner. I wanted so much to get these feelings off my chest and to finally get the weight off of my shoulders. Now I will never get the chance. Now I have to live with the pain of my being too scared to tell him. Deep down I was scared at how he would react. Now I will never know. It is a feeling that has slowly begun to eat away at me as the days tick by. I’m the one who has this cross to bear. I’m the one who has to live with this choice I failed to make. People can try and attempt to sympathize with me, but at the end of the day it is a moot issue. No one knows what I’m going through. No one can quite comprehend the guilt I’m feeling. I’m just afraid that the day is going to come where everything I’m feeling and everything I’m going through will hit the breaking point and I am going to snap. Maybe mara was right. Maybe people like me aren’t meant to be happy or to get a fairy tale ending. I’m more than likely going to end up walking this Earth alone for the rest of my life with nothing but memories of happier times and this constant pang of guilt of my indecision. Just make it stop…..”
By now, the paper Savannah was reading had become speckled with the tears that were starting to fall from her eyes. Re-reading what she wrote when she was en route home from Miami was like slowly peeling off a bandage. It hurt that much. She knew that this was something that only she would be able to deal with. She closes the journal and half throws it back in her bag, the search for the implement to cut her wrist tape off now a semi lost cause. Sitting alone in her locker room, the tears started to fall down her cheeks. Away from the prying eyes of everyone involved with EXODUS, she was able to let her guard down and release some of what was bottled up inside. The twist in all of this? She still had very strong feeling for him. That was something that probably wouldn’t change anytime soon. But right now, she had to work past whatever was going on inside if she was to become International champion. This was simply the catalyst for her renewed focus on what was important to her, and that was becoming the best, becoming better than anyone expected her to be.
******************************************************
Liar.
Cheat.
Follower.
Phony.
No matter how you slice it, I have been called just about every name in the book at LEAST twice. Those just happen to be some of the names I have been called in the past few weeks. To the EXODUS outsider, those names are justified. To me, however, I simply chalk it up to the same old song and dance that people trot out whenever they run out of material when it comes to me. Don’t worry. I’m used to it. What I did two weeks ago was make a statement. What I did was send a message not only to Justin Brooks but to the entire world that I was serious about my intentions of competing for the International championship. No one took me seriously. No one believed me when I originally made my intentions known. Who is laughing now? Who is sitting pretty, watching everyone scurry around trying to figure out what to do with this very real threat. That is when the name calling and general first grade insults come out. EXODUS knows that I pose a threat to the order that they have established here and it has them running scared. After Monday, their fear becomes reality when I walk out of San Diego the new International champion.
So Justin, I have to ask. How is your head feeling? Did you get that long awaited clean bill of health so you can get to work on plotting my downfall? Good. I’m genuinely glad. I want you at one hundred percent. I want you to be completely healthy so when it is all said and done and I take your title away from you, I know I beat you when you were at your best. Because then I will say to the entire world that your best wasn’t good enough to beat me. Your best isn’t going to be good enough on Monday. I hope you had time to process what happened to you, Justin. I want you to think about what I did and I want you to realize just who you are going up against. You are going up against someone who is willing to go to any lengths to get what I want, and what I want is that title you hold close to you. Trust me when I said that what I did two weeks ago is mere child’s play compared to what I have in mind for Monday. I do have one question for you though. How much did it cost you? Fifty bucks? One hundred bucks? The deed to your house and your firstborn child? I want to know how much you had to shell out when you went running to Jonathan and Michelle and demanded the “little white girl” one on one. Congratulations, Justin. You have simultaneously sealed your fate come Monday and created one hell of a scenario if we were playing “Cards Against Humanity.” Bravo to you, good sir. Bravo indeed. Whatever it cost you, I just hope you got a receipt from Jonathan and Michelle. Then again you have been in the favor of management for a while now, I’m sure they were only happy to offer you this match with me for free. How sad for them and how sad for you.
Right now, I imagine you are looking back on what I did two weeks ago and are thinking that what happened to you was wrong. You probably think that what happened to you was unfair and shouldn’t have happened. I hate to be the one to rain on your parade, but guess what? LIFE ISN’T FAIR! Would you like to know what unfair is, Justin? I would be more than happy to give you a lesson in what is really unfair. Unfair is watching as someone you’ve grown fond of is unnecessarily attacked by someone with a grudge and you being powerless to stop it. Unfair is watching your chance at getting revenge on said person being handed to an unproven rookie who, let’s be honest, doesn’t know what she is getting into. Unfair is being forced to watch as said rookie receives a shot at the title that I put on the map and legitimized. Unfair is being told in not so subtle terms that you are not good enough to compete for the World championship and you might as well just be content with your current station in the company. Unfair is trying so hard to make things right by everyone, only to have your efforts rebuffed by everyone. So excuse the hell out of me if I have no sympathy for you, Justin. Excuse me if I take your sad attempts at garnering sympathy from these sheeple with about seven grains of salt. Honestly, why should I trust the opinions of the very people who put the overrated and undeserving people on golden pedestals while the rest of us are left to fend for ourselves? The opinions of the RIMAC Arena crowd mean precisely jack to me. You know what else means jack to me? You. Give me one solitary reason why I should feel anything towards you, Justin. Why should I feel anything towards someone who is so willing to bring up things that I have done yet can’t even look at his own transgressions? Have you forgotten that you and I were BOTH connected to the same person? Have you forgotten that you too were used by Cleon Gray to further his own twisted agenda against this company? Or are you too high and mighty that you have simply brushed that aside and are picking and choosing which memories you bring to the forefront? It is people like you that make me sick to my damn stomach. You claim that I need to own up to what I did? Guess what? Been there done that and I never received the t shirt. The longer you continue to bury your head in the sand regarding your own involvements with Cleon, the sooner your career will slip further into obscurity. It will get to the point where that chubby tap-dancing girl in the bee costume in that Blind Melon video will be more relevant than you. My point is, put up or shut up. I will have no problems shutting you up. It’s not my fault that you are so adamant about denying the fact that we are cut from the same corrupt cloth. But as the people in Section Be are so fond of saying, that sounds like a “you” problem.
Do you want to know what I find funny about all of this, Justin? I find it hilarious that you call yourself a monster. If you are seriously a monster, then I am the future Queen of England. Come on now, really? A monster? You couldn’t come up with anything more original than that? The only monster I even remotely take seriously is that God awful energy drink. If you are a monster, then I may as well start dressing in flannel and driving around in a sixty seven Chevy Impala that plays nothing but Kansas. You really are no monster. All you are is a grown man clinging to a meaningless title in the hopes that it somehow strikes fear into the hearts of the opponents. What is worse is how you have roped the priestess into believing your hype. I really thought better of you for a hot second, Justin. I really believed that you were better than that. I thought that you were above stringing along some development kid and molding her into what you feel is the perfect “monster.” Instead you turned out to be the second coming of Cleon Gray. Congratulations, Justin. You get a gold star for being an incredible douche.
The more I look at this match and the more I think about it, the more I realize that you and I are like the two birds in that Maya Angelou poem “The Caged Bird.” Indulge me for a second. The free bird soars among the bright blue skies, soaring high among the clouds on the backs of the gentle breezes that push him along. He has his fill of the green grass, the sunshine and all the worms his beak is able to allow him to carry. But the caged bird doesn’t have the same freedoms. The caged bird is stuck in a prison, looking out at the world through the metal bars that confine him, seeing how happy the free bird is. The caged bird’s wings are clipped and his feet are tied. Yet throughout this, he sings of things he doesn’t quite know, yet longs to experience. The caged bird sings of that hopeful taste of freedom. I bet you didn’t think I knew poetry, Justin. Want to know a secret? I’m a lot smarter than people realize. People just think I’m some smoking hot, yet slightly dense blond who doesn’t know what is going on around her. Does this irritate me? Yes. Do I pay this to the hilt and use it to my advantage? You bet your ass I do. It has worked for me quite well so far, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. I’ve been through a lot in my twenty six years on this planet, more than you even realize. So whatever you think you have planned for me, please, bring it all. I want you to bring your absolute worst for me. I have a high threshold for physical pain. Anything you can dish out, not only can I take it but I can dish right back tenfold. I heard a saying that seems appropriate. A bruise is a lesson, and each lesson makes us better. Monday, class is going to be in session.
I hope you don’t have any delusions of grandeur of walking out of San Diego with your International title still intact. I would hate to be you when the disappointment sinks in. Then again, I’m not the one who has to take that long flight back to Knoxville to my loved ones. I’m not the one who has to look my child in the eyes and tell him that Daddy failed to get the job done. I don’t have to watch as his eyes look up at you and the feeling of being let down sinks into his little heart. Then again, letting your son down seems to be a thing with you, doesn’t it Justin? You seem to be an expert at letting people down. You’ve let these people down when you failed to live up to being the monster you made yourself out to be. I almost want to be a fly on the wall when you are forced to explain to your son that Daddy didn’t get the job done and was humiliated by someone many feel is inferior. I want to see his lower lip begin to tremble and the tears fill his eyes as he realizes that Daddy is a fraud, that his superhero is a mere mortal. This is a dose of tough love, Justin. Don’t like it? Do something about it. Prove me wrong. You don’t have it in you to really be the monster you make yourself out to be.
Monday night is going to see a changing of the guard of sorts. I could care less about the San Diego Bay title match. The only match that matters is this match. The only change that matters is the International title changing hands. Oh rest assured, Justin. It WILL happen. I am willing to sacrifice any and everything to become champion. I am willing to lay everything on the line to become champion. I want this more than you do. I have worked too damn hard for too damn long to be overlooked. I’m done standing on the sidelines and watching as people, people who don’t deserve what they have been given, pass me by. Monday starts the dawn of a new era so to speak. To borrow a line from a wrestler from another company, someone other than you holding the International championship is something you are going to have to get familiar with. I am going to get what I want, Justin, one way or another. The only thing you are going to be able to do is sit back and accept it.
Auf Wiedersehen.
RIMAC Arena
San Diego, California
OFF CAMERA
The backstage portion of the famed RIMAC Arena was still teaming with excitement as the EXODUS on FX show was still going on. Out in the main arena, the fans are getting ready to be treated to one of the most anticipated matches of the evening, Zack Lifer versus Christian Kane. The opening strains of “You Give Love A Bad Name” echo over the sound system, causing the fans to go into a tizzy. As crazy as it was out there, it was just as crazy backstage. Wrestlers were milling about, either winding down from or getting ready for their matches. Production assistants and various backstage techs were making sure each and every aspect of the show went off without a hitch. Standing amidst the chaos in his natural habitat of backstage is ace interviewer Tom Matheny. He looks calm as can be with his microphone in his hand as he watches people walk past him, not paying him any attention. As he glances down the hall, he spots a figure walking towards him, one that had immediately grabbed his attention. Coming down the hall in his general direction was none other than Savannah Taylor. Still dressed in her ring attire, she has a very thin layer of sweat remaining on her skin as a result of her tag team match earlier in the show. Running a hand through her golden locks, she spots Matheny coming towards her and she can’t help but roll her eyes slightly. She had a feeling she knew what he was after.
Tom Matheny: Savannah! Excuse me, Savannah!
The blonde stops in her tracks and casts a glance at the interviewer, who has now hurried over to her side.
Savannah Taylor: What do you want?
Tom Matheny: I was hoping that I could have a moment of your time.
Savannah Taylor: And what makes you think I have anything to say, especially to someone such as yourself?
The reporter cocks his head ever so slightly to the side as he regards Savannah standing in front of him, her right hand placed on her hip as she wipes a small bead of sweat from her brow with her left hand.
Tom Matheny: Well, I was hoping to get a word with you regarding what happened out there moments ago.
Savannah purses her lips together as if she is thinking over Tom’s question, formulating the appropriate response.
Savannah Taylor: You mean what happened at the beginning of the show when that…..whoever Vorace is opened his mouth?
Tom Matheny: No, I wasn’t talking about that.
Savannah Taylor: Then you must be talking about how that useless idiot Kevin Hardaway nearly put half of the crowd to sleep the minute his music hit. Is that right? Because let me tell you, it takes a special kind of talent to pull that off, and Kevin Hardaway is quite “special.”
Tom Matheny: Actually, what I was talking about was what happened after your match.
Savannah Taylor: Oh, thaaaaaaaaat.
The slightest traces of a smirk begin to appear at the corners of her mouth as she folds her arms across her chest.
Savannah Taylor: So, go ahead Tom. Ask the question I know you are dying to ask. Finally make use of your journalism degree and ask the question that everyone will want to know come tomorrow morning.
Tom swallows a bit before he presses on.
Tom Matheny: Alright then. Why did you do it? Why did you seemingly kick the head off of Justin Brooks and turn your back on the entire crowd?
Savannah raises an eyebrow before holding her hand up mere inches from his face.
Savannah Taylor: Hold up. I turned my back on the fans? Are you serious? I mean, did those words actually come from your mouth? Since when did I “turn on the fans?” How can you turn on something that never fully supported you in the first place? Answer that for me, Tom.
Tom Matheny: I….uhhhh….well….
She cuts him off.
Savannah Taylor: Exactly. You can’t. Ever since my first day here in EXODUS, these fans haven’t given a damn whether I succeed or fail. These people, these sheep if you will, would rather blindly follow the actions and words of a false prophet and cheer who he TELLS them to cheer for. They can’t think for themselves. Because if they did, it would tear down everything that this current regime in charge has worked so hard at maintaining.
She pauses a second to unfold her arms a brush a few strands of hair that had fallen down into her face.
Savannah Taylor: Now, getting back to the point of you stopping me here in the hall when I have other things to do. Why did I kick the head off of Justin Brooks, you ask? It’s simple. He has something that I want, something that I need. I’ve had my sights set on becoming more than what these sheeple make me out to be. What better way of doing that than by becoming International champion?
Tom Matheny: Yeah, but did you have to go about it that way?
Savannah Taylor: What you have suggested I do, Tom? Go up to Jonathan Collins and say “Hey, you know I would REALLY like it if you would give me a shot at the International title, old buddy old pal.” Something like that? Newsflash Tom, I’m not exactly on Jonathan’s favorites list. I took matters into my own hands, which is something that not many people seem to want to do around EXODUS these days. Was my method unorthodox? Yes. Was my method controversial? Yes. But was my method effective? I guess you’ll have to go ask Justin that whenever he wakes up. Now are we done here?
Tom Matheny: Yeah, I would say we are.
Savannah Taylor: Good. The pleasure was all yours.
With that, she turns on her heel and continues her walk down the hall towards the room that was designated as her own locker room. She was well aware that the eyes of most everyone was on her, some looking upon her with disdain while others simply shook their heads. She pays them no mind as she reaches her destination and opens the heavy wooden door and steps inside. Letting the door shut with a resounding thud, she lets out a sigh that sounded like she had been holding that in for a while. Alone in her locker room, away from the din of both the backstage and the main arena, the quiet was a welcome, yet eerie respite from her daily life. Sitting down on the bench, she reaches into the small duffel bag next to her larger suitcase and searches for something to cut the tape binding her wrists. In her search, her fingers come across something that cases her to stop. Fiddling around for a few more seconds, she pulls out a notebook with a purple, pink, black and blue swirled cover. It was clear that this particular notebook had been written in many, many times due to the slight wear on the cover and the gently crinkled pages. With trembling hands, Savannah turns the pages until she comes to the last entry that she made. The date on the upper right hand corner of the page read May nineteenth, the day that she left Miami after attending the inaugural FGA pay per view.
“So, Miami certainly was a thing. It was nice to be on the other side of things for a change and to simply be a fan of this business. I got to meet some pretty chill people, mainly thanks to Heather and her pretty large social circle. Cordy Stevenson seems like a pretty nice person to be around. I can see why she and Heather click. Not only that, but Cordy is one damn good wrestler. I wouldn’t be opposed to stepping into the ring with her one of these days. We could put on a classic match. Getting to meet Seth was good too. He definitely seems like a nice person, talented too. Hanging out with him was a nice distraction towards the end of my trip. All in all, I had a great time. I was impressed with everything and I hope to catch them again sometime. However, it wasn’t a one hundred percent perfect trip. Despite being there with Heather and Angela and meeting everyone that I did, something wasn’t right. There was something that left me with infinitely more questions than answers. That something was Chandler.”
“I should have seen this coming. I guess I should have seen the writing on the wall. I honestly never thought in a million years that I would remotely see myself falling for someone like him. The circumstances were dubious, I will admit, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t gradually begin to fall for him. It got to the point where all anyone had to do was mention his name and I would just smile. Call me crazy, but I had found someone that didn’t see me as the horrible person that everyone else did. I found someone that saw past what others see and got to know the real me. I never thought that I would find someone like him. I honestly never considered the possibility that someone out there could make me see that maybe, just maybe people could change for the better. God knows how hard I am kicking myself right about now.”
“I should have told him exactly how I felt when I had the chance. I should have said something. Watching the FGA pay per view, things I saw only drove home the guilt I was feeling at not getting things out in the open sooner. I wanted so much to get these feelings off my chest and to finally get the weight off of my shoulders. Now I will never get the chance. Now I have to live with the pain of my being too scared to tell him. Deep down I was scared at how he would react. Now I will never know. It is a feeling that has slowly begun to eat away at me as the days tick by. I’m the one who has this cross to bear. I’m the one who has to live with this choice I failed to make. People can try and attempt to sympathize with me, but at the end of the day it is a moot issue. No one knows what I’m going through. No one can quite comprehend the guilt I’m feeling. I’m just afraid that the day is going to come where everything I’m feeling and everything I’m going through will hit the breaking point and I am going to snap. Maybe mara was right. Maybe people like me aren’t meant to be happy or to get a fairy tale ending. I’m more than likely going to end up walking this Earth alone for the rest of my life with nothing but memories of happier times and this constant pang of guilt of my indecision. Just make it stop…..”
By now, the paper Savannah was reading had become speckled with the tears that were starting to fall from her eyes. Re-reading what she wrote when she was en route home from Miami was like slowly peeling off a bandage. It hurt that much. She knew that this was something that only she would be able to deal with. She closes the journal and half throws it back in her bag, the search for the implement to cut her wrist tape off now a semi lost cause. Sitting alone in her locker room, the tears started to fall down her cheeks. Away from the prying eyes of everyone involved with EXODUS, she was able to let her guard down and release some of what was bottled up inside. The twist in all of this? She still had very strong feeling for him. That was something that probably wouldn’t change anytime soon. But right now, she had to work past whatever was going on inside if she was to become International champion. This was simply the catalyst for her renewed focus on what was important to her, and that was becoming the best, becoming better than anyone expected her to be.
******************************************************
Liar.
Cheat.
Follower.
Phony.
No matter how you slice it, I have been called just about every name in the book at LEAST twice. Those just happen to be some of the names I have been called in the past few weeks. To the EXODUS outsider, those names are justified. To me, however, I simply chalk it up to the same old song and dance that people trot out whenever they run out of material when it comes to me. Don’t worry. I’m used to it. What I did two weeks ago was make a statement. What I did was send a message not only to Justin Brooks but to the entire world that I was serious about my intentions of competing for the International championship. No one took me seriously. No one believed me when I originally made my intentions known. Who is laughing now? Who is sitting pretty, watching everyone scurry around trying to figure out what to do with this very real threat. That is when the name calling and general first grade insults come out. EXODUS knows that I pose a threat to the order that they have established here and it has them running scared. After Monday, their fear becomes reality when I walk out of San Diego the new International champion.
So Justin, I have to ask. How is your head feeling? Did you get that long awaited clean bill of health so you can get to work on plotting my downfall? Good. I’m genuinely glad. I want you at one hundred percent. I want you to be completely healthy so when it is all said and done and I take your title away from you, I know I beat you when you were at your best. Because then I will say to the entire world that your best wasn’t good enough to beat me. Your best isn’t going to be good enough on Monday. I hope you had time to process what happened to you, Justin. I want you to think about what I did and I want you to realize just who you are going up against. You are going up against someone who is willing to go to any lengths to get what I want, and what I want is that title you hold close to you. Trust me when I said that what I did two weeks ago is mere child’s play compared to what I have in mind for Monday. I do have one question for you though. How much did it cost you? Fifty bucks? One hundred bucks? The deed to your house and your firstborn child? I want to know how much you had to shell out when you went running to Jonathan and Michelle and demanded the “little white girl” one on one. Congratulations, Justin. You have simultaneously sealed your fate come Monday and created one hell of a scenario if we were playing “Cards Against Humanity.” Bravo to you, good sir. Bravo indeed. Whatever it cost you, I just hope you got a receipt from Jonathan and Michelle. Then again you have been in the favor of management for a while now, I’m sure they were only happy to offer you this match with me for free. How sad for them and how sad for you.
Right now, I imagine you are looking back on what I did two weeks ago and are thinking that what happened to you was wrong. You probably think that what happened to you was unfair and shouldn’t have happened. I hate to be the one to rain on your parade, but guess what? LIFE ISN’T FAIR! Would you like to know what unfair is, Justin? I would be more than happy to give you a lesson in what is really unfair. Unfair is watching as someone you’ve grown fond of is unnecessarily attacked by someone with a grudge and you being powerless to stop it. Unfair is watching your chance at getting revenge on said person being handed to an unproven rookie who, let’s be honest, doesn’t know what she is getting into. Unfair is being forced to watch as said rookie receives a shot at the title that I put on the map and legitimized. Unfair is being told in not so subtle terms that you are not good enough to compete for the World championship and you might as well just be content with your current station in the company. Unfair is trying so hard to make things right by everyone, only to have your efforts rebuffed by everyone. So excuse the hell out of me if I have no sympathy for you, Justin. Excuse me if I take your sad attempts at garnering sympathy from these sheeple with about seven grains of salt. Honestly, why should I trust the opinions of the very people who put the overrated and undeserving people on golden pedestals while the rest of us are left to fend for ourselves? The opinions of the RIMAC Arena crowd mean precisely jack to me. You know what else means jack to me? You. Give me one solitary reason why I should feel anything towards you, Justin. Why should I feel anything towards someone who is so willing to bring up things that I have done yet can’t even look at his own transgressions? Have you forgotten that you and I were BOTH connected to the same person? Have you forgotten that you too were used by Cleon Gray to further his own twisted agenda against this company? Or are you too high and mighty that you have simply brushed that aside and are picking and choosing which memories you bring to the forefront? It is people like you that make me sick to my damn stomach. You claim that I need to own up to what I did? Guess what? Been there done that and I never received the t shirt. The longer you continue to bury your head in the sand regarding your own involvements with Cleon, the sooner your career will slip further into obscurity. It will get to the point where that chubby tap-dancing girl in the bee costume in that Blind Melon video will be more relevant than you. My point is, put up or shut up. I will have no problems shutting you up. It’s not my fault that you are so adamant about denying the fact that we are cut from the same corrupt cloth. But as the people in Section Be are so fond of saying, that sounds like a “you” problem.
Do you want to know what I find funny about all of this, Justin? I find it hilarious that you call yourself a monster. If you are seriously a monster, then I am the future Queen of England. Come on now, really? A monster? You couldn’t come up with anything more original than that? The only monster I even remotely take seriously is that God awful energy drink. If you are a monster, then I may as well start dressing in flannel and driving around in a sixty seven Chevy Impala that plays nothing but Kansas. You really are no monster. All you are is a grown man clinging to a meaningless title in the hopes that it somehow strikes fear into the hearts of the opponents. What is worse is how you have roped the priestess into believing your hype. I really thought better of you for a hot second, Justin. I really believed that you were better than that. I thought that you were above stringing along some development kid and molding her into what you feel is the perfect “monster.” Instead you turned out to be the second coming of Cleon Gray. Congratulations, Justin. You get a gold star for being an incredible douche.
The more I look at this match and the more I think about it, the more I realize that you and I are like the two birds in that Maya Angelou poem “The Caged Bird.” Indulge me for a second. The free bird soars among the bright blue skies, soaring high among the clouds on the backs of the gentle breezes that push him along. He has his fill of the green grass, the sunshine and all the worms his beak is able to allow him to carry. But the caged bird doesn’t have the same freedoms. The caged bird is stuck in a prison, looking out at the world through the metal bars that confine him, seeing how happy the free bird is. The caged bird’s wings are clipped and his feet are tied. Yet throughout this, he sings of things he doesn’t quite know, yet longs to experience. The caged bird sings of that hopeful taste of freedom. I bet you didn’t think I knew poetry, Justin. Want to know a secret? I’m a lot smarter than people realize. People just think I’m some smoking hot, yet slightly dense blond who doesn’t know what is going on around her. Does this irritate me? Yes. Do I pay this to the hilt and use it to my advantage? You bet your ass I do. It has worked for me quite well so far, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. I’ve been through a lot in my twenty six years on this planet, more than you even realize. So whatever you think you have planned for me, please, bring it all. I want you to bring your absolute worst for me. I have a high threshold for physical pain. Anything you can dish out, not only can I take it but I can dish right back tenfold. I heard a saying that seems appropriate. A bruise is a lesson, and each lesson makes us better. Monday, class is going to be in session.
I hope you don’t have any delusions of grandeur of walking out of San Diego with your International title still intact. I would hate to be you when the disappointment sinks in. Then again, I’m not the one who has to take that long flight back to Knoxville to my loved ones. I’m not the one who has to look my child in the eyes and tell him that Daddy failed to get the job done. I don’t have to watch as his eyes look up at you and the feeling of being let down sinks into his little heart. Then again, letting your son down seems to be a thing with you, doesn’t it Justin? You seem to be an expert at letting people down. You’ve let these people down when you failed to live up to being the monster you made yourself out to be. I almost want to be a fly on the wall when you are forced to explain to your son that Daddy didn’t get the job done and was humiliated by someone many feel is inferior. I want to see his lower lip begin to tremble and the tears fill his eyes as he realizes that Daddy is a fraud, that his superhero is a mere mortal. This is a dose of tough love, Justin. Don’t like it? Do something about it. Prove me wrong. You don’t have it in you to really be the monster you make yourself out to be.
Monday night is going to see a changing of the guard of sorts. I could care less about the San Diego Bay title match. The only match that matters is this match. The only change that matters is the International title changing hands. Oh rest assured, Justin. It WILL happen. I am willing to sacrifice any and everything to become champion. I am willing to lay everything on the line to become champion. I want this more than you do. I have worked too damn hard for too damn long to be overlooked. I’m done standing on the sidelines and watching as people, people who don’t deserve what they have been given, pass me by. Monday starts the dawn of a new era so to speak. To borrow a line from a wrestler from another company, someone other than you holding the International championship is something you are going to have to get familiar with. I am going to get what I want, Justin, one way or another. The only thing you are going to be able to do is sit back and accept it.
Auf Wiedersehen.
