Take Me Back To Eden

[Mai Everstone]

In a cozy, well-lit kitchen of the rental home she had rented to give herself some freedom to have her babies with her was filled with the warm aroma of freshly baked goods. Mai Everstone, a young woman with an apron tied around her waist, as she had a small basket filled with Lenore the Cute little dead girl comic and bat-shaped gingerbread cookies already set aside.

As she poured flour into a bowl, “So, I just mash the bananas now, right?”

Her phone is propped up on the counter on speaker mode, and the southern drawl of her adopted father echoed through the kitchen. “Yes, sugarplum. Just mash them until they're smooth. Listen, Mai, I need to talk to you about something important.”

She was focused on mashing the bananas, “What's up, Dad?”

She could already hear concern, “It's about the group of friends you've been spending time with lately.”

Mai sighed, “Oh, not this again. They're just friends, Dad. We hang out, have fun, and do some matches together. Nothing to worry about.”

“I'm worried, Mai. I've been hearing things... rumors about them being involved in demon worship.” He was already sounding more insistent.

Mai stopped mashing, and looked at the phone, “Demon worship? Seriously, Dad? That's ridiculous.”

His voice got softer but the worry was still laced through it, “I know it sounds far-fetched, but people are talking. I just want you to be safe.”

She shook her head as she resumed mashing bananas, a bit more aggressively, “Dad, I appreciate your concern, but I promise you, they're good people. I know the church has disavowed me and it's a risk to your position talking to me, but come on. We've never done anything like that.”

She heard him sigh, “I just don't want you to get hurt or caught up in something dangerous. You know how much you mean to me.”

Mai tried to soften her tone, “I know, Dad. And I love you for worrying. But you have to trust me. I'm not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.”

“Alright, Mai. Just promise me you'll be careful.”

Mai smiled, “I promise. Now, how long do I bake this for again?”

He chuckled, “Fifty minutes at 350 degrees. And don’t forget to set the timer.”

“I only forgot the timer once, Dad.”

“And nearly burned down the house.” He was silent for a long moment, “Good luck on your match, Mai.”

“Thanks, Dad. I'll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, sugarplum. Take care.”

Mai hung up the phone, muttering to herself, “Demon worship... honestly.” As she set the timer on the oven and slid the skull-shaped loaf pan inside, wiping her hands on her apron. “There. Now, let's see what all this fuss is about.”

She glanced out the window, deep in thought, as the timer ticked away. Vivienne was acting weird but… that didn’t mean… No. That was stupid.

---

I’ll admit I was beginning to feel a little like people forgot I existed outside of little behind-the-scenes things at the show. I mean, I haven’t really been booked since… what? The Birds of Prey match? Makes me feel like the child no one wanted. Ha. Ha.



Topical. Right Winstons? But sure, let's just get into the meat and bones of the match.



The Murder might not have been as secure as it was a couple of months back. Sure, we’ve had our setbacks. I’m not going to act like we haven’t. Brooklyn is MIA. April is focused on securing Hieress to the throne and kinda isolating herself. But I believe in the mission still. I believe that the women’s division needs more attention. I believe we should get just as much credit if not more than the guys. I believe in those things. Fully. With my whole heart. Is Vivienne a little…more feral recently? Sure. It’s giving female rage. And that’s a vibe. Maybe not my vibe but a vibe nonetheless. I know she’s not going to stop short of victory and that’s all one could hope for in a partner right?



We are a team. Team. team. Team. I mean, sure she’s got a bigot who does some shady shit as her permanent plus one… I don’t kink shame…. But… Girlypop, maybe listen to ‘Please please please’ by Sabrina Carpenter? It might help?



But on to the match itself. We got the two goth baddies in Bella Morte. I’ve never faced Eternity. I don’t know her from manners. She plays up the spooky cryptid vibe. The kind of chick that fucks in a graveyard and has a personal collection of voodoo dolls. And maybe that’s who she is. I’m not one to judge. I don’t have voodoo dolls, but I do have a collection of haunted dolls I bought. Kind of a hobby. So I get it. She seems chill. But she’s also been world champion, Heiress, iron maiden, and a whole bunch of other shit I forgot. She’s the GOAT of the women’s division. She is what we have to measure ourselves against, right?



I’m not scared of you. I know you can be beaten. I know you can lose. And I’m not afraid to go full throttle to try and get there. You might be just as crazy as you pretend but I am not going to let you play mind games with me. I can handle my own shit, thanks.



Abby? Abby is still an island unto herself. She doesn’t interact with people. Sure, she goes to weddings but she doesn’t want to be anyone’s friend. She has the badass Southern Gothic vibe. More bonfires in the woods and sealed jars of wax with her enemies' hair in it. Fine. we were tag team partners once but she didn’t want to talk to me. She just wanted to keep to herself. All she cares about is her brothers and her girlfriend. And she already lost to Vivienne once. I might not be able to hand her ass to her as well as Viv can but I’m certainly not going to be the weak link in this match.



You are not as nice a person as you think you are. You are fake. A fake nice girl is just as fucking trash as any other fake. You’re a bitch. A bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone else. Who does nothing but talk shit about other people. Fuck you and fuck your whole family.



Speaking of fake ass family and weakest links in this match?



Winstons. I don’t know you. I don’t don’t want to know you. Sure, we might share parents but I don’t fucking know you. Stop calling me. Stop talking about me. Stop calling me by some name that has no connection to me. Seriously. It’s desperate and weird. If I wanted to be included in your shit I’d reach out. I have a family. I have a father. Elijah Everstone. He’s a good man who raised me. Who loves me. And who found me as a baby and adopted me. I might embarrass him and the Church of Morman like no one's business but he’s my family. So fuck off and if you talk about how you are the real family I’ll make you choke on your teeth.



So see you in the ring girlies. Watch the murder win. Kisses.