Post by Helena Sawyer on Oct 29, 2016 17:04:25 GMT
The door to Michelle and Grace's apartment swung open, and Grace rose to greet Michelle as she walked inside. Michelle collapsed into her girlfriend's arms like a falling rock, forcing the taller woman to stagger back and grit her teeth. Grace's voice was joking as she pulled Michelle back to a vertical base, almost playful. "Wow, did the time on the road hit you that hard?"
Michelle looked up at Grace, eyes bloodshot and voice croakingly weary, and nodded. Grace helped her over to the couch, and as she sat down Michelle let out a shuddering sigh of relief. She took a deep breath, looking over, and nodded again. "All of this has just been...draining."
Grace nodded understandingly as she reached over, rubbing Michelle's shoulder. "Then ask for a week off. Take some time from the schedule. The show'll survive without you for an episode."
Michelle's nod in reply came slowly, haltingly, as if it had to overcome some mammoth summit to even pull itself into being. "I have to, Grace. I...I need distance. Win or lose, I want the week after October Revolution off. I just...oh God, I don't think she's acting..."
Grace tilted her head, visibly puzzled. "Who's not acting now?"
"Eternity." Michelle looked up at Grace again, exhaustion mingling with fear in her eyes and voice. "She's not doing what I'm doing. I saw them loading Shea into the ambulance. She broke her arm, Grace, she broke her fucking arm. All because she wanted Warren to learn his lesson? What the fuck is that shit, Gracie? Months of her life, all that rehab, just to fuck with someone else? She's a human fucking being, Grace. All I could think when I was watching that is 'what if that were Grace? What if she did that to her?' I..." she trails off, unable or unwilling to go further down that train of thought.
Grace pulled her into a hug, gently patting her on the back. "Hey. Hey. It's not going to happen. I've been at home this entire time, right? I'm not in the arena, I'm nowhere she can find me. She'd have to track me down, and that doesn't seem her style. Look, between Eternity and Sarah, you've been under a lot of stress. I think a week off the road would be good for you. It'll be your week to unwind and relax. Treat yo self."
Michelle couldn't help but crack a grin at Grace, nodding slowly. She sat up a little more, nuzzling into Grace's arms as she sighed. "Treat mah self. And treat you." She reached up, poking Grace in the nose. For her part, Grace just casually waved off the poke, sniffling a little and chuckling. Michelle burrowed into the hug more, remaining silent as the two women held each other in silent contentment.
After about a minute, Michelle did speak up again. "...Grace, I want to keep going."
Grace nodded wearily, clearly having seen this coming. "I know. You've always been my little nitro junkie."
Michelle chuckled, a faint grin on her face. "Heh. Puns. Wrestling puns...this feels good, Grace. No matter how scary it gets, I love going out there and putting on a show. And people like me. Hell, Pandora Freeman was all 'kick her ass, baby, I got your flower' on Twitter."
"The girl who took advantage of that fast count? Really?" Grace shook her head. "Well, I don't know. Just don't start calling the fans your freaky darlings or something. That's just—"
"Cartoonish?" Michelle replied, utterly deadpan. "Yeah. I don't want to turn into some toothless stereotype, raving about how cuh-razy I am. Show, don't tell." She turned onto her side, yawning. "I don't want to cook, and you are so out of spoons today. I can see it in your eyes. Wanna order pizza?"
Grace chuckled at Michelle as she lay curled up on the couch like a cat. "Weren't we supposed to be living the high life?"
Michelle waved her hand dismissively. "Later. Now, we order pizza and I take a—" she interrupted herself with a loud yawn, scrunching up her eyes as she shook her head. "...take a nap. We'll call that yawn Exhibit A."
Grace reached over the arm of the couch, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over Michelle's curled form, despite the smaller woman's protests. "The prosecution rests," Grace snarked at Michelle, "or at least it had better rest. I know what you like. Sleeeeeep."
A faint, somewhat indignant "murr" emanated, muffled, from within the blanket. Grace smiled fondly at the blanket-covered figure next to her, standing up and walking over to her laptop. As she sat down, Michelle's head poked itself out from tbe blanket, brow furrowed as she attempted to sleep. As we faded out, a sentence dropped from Michelle's lips, mumbled as if it had simply slipped free from her subconscious.
"Sleep...and then we dream."
We open in a very familiar space: the cell where we first met Helena. She's pressed up against the wall again, tucked into a corner, still in her ring gear. Her voice echoes out of the corner, sullen and hollow, as the bare bulb flickers overhead again.
"You made...such a mistake last week, Sarah. I...I'm not just here because this beautiful freakshow with fists is the only place on Earth that really feels like home anymore. No, I'm here because every time I win, every time I push someone over the edge, I feel a sense of gratification. It feels good to make them realize their limits. But you? You recoil whenever your boundaries are tested, retreating as you scream about injustice. Injustice..."
Helena chuckles quietly to herself, the laughter quickly increasing in volume, and the light flickers as her laugh turns into an inarticulate scream of rage. Helena whirls around, revealing stark, almost minimalist corpse paint, and solid jet-black eyes. She snarls at the camera, practically barking at it like a wild animal.
"WHERE WAS YOUR SENSE OF JUSTICE?! Hmm? Were you crusading for equality and fair treatment when you cheated me like a pool-hall hustler?! Your hand hit that mat so fast, I thought you were having a SEIZURE! And see, that's what's been..."
Her right hand raises, trembling with rage, to her ear, pinky finger darting out and scratching at the ear canal as her other hand clenches into an almost claw-like shape.
"...burrowing into my ear like a parasite, digging its way through my brain and making its nest right where I can't reach it, no matter how! Hard! I try! You put this thing in me, Sarah, this obsession, and it's your responsibility as much as mine! I want you to take responsibility for this thing you've given life to! I want to pay you back for every night it's eaten away at me, take those moments from you in flesh and blood and beautiful RETRIBUTION!"
Helena breathes heavily, bringing her hands down, and looks at them. All we can hear for a long few moments is the sound of her breaths, heaving in and out. Quietly, she speaks again, almost sobbing with her frustration.
"...I want to take your future from you, Sarah. I want to take what you could achieve. I want to take that sense of self-assured confidence that you walk around with, PARADE around with, and rip it from your hands raw and bloody. What are you under the mask, Sarah? I want to know. I NEED to know..."
Helena reaches into her pockets, taking a few steps back and leaning against the barren concrete. She takes a deep breath, frantically muttering under her breath, barely audible to the audience. She pulls her hands out of her pockets, a rosary clamped in her right hand and her left loosely closed around something that remains cupped in her palms. She shakes her head, trying to strangle her emotions back into check.
"...because I want to help you. Isn't that the worst part of it all? I want to help you, Sarah, even after all the wrong you've done to me. I feel it deep inside me. It's a compulsion...to help, in the only way I can. Because if someone doesn't, then you're going to suffer for no reason. If you suffer, it has to be for a reason. That's what Sister Superior taught me. Misery, suffering, sorrow, pain...they're all part of a plan. I want to help you find your plan, Sarah, but you can't see the path. Your eyes don't work. They're blind, and you made them that way."
She runs her right hand through her hair, opening her left tentatively and extending it to the camera. In her hand sit two eyeballs, the same color as Sarah's eyes, looking as if they were ripped from the sockets in which they had resided. Helena offers the eyes to the camera, a half-smile on her face.
"You need these, Sarah. You need a new set of eyes to see the world with, because you don't see the world as it is. You've...put this fantasy into your mind, and it's blinded you. You demand the world warp around you, fit your needs, fit your expectations of how things should be...should. We don't get should, Sarah. We get what is. And you think the world should be your safe space..."
Helena snaps her hand shut, a wet squelching pop issuing forth, and the calm in her voice is gone, replaced by the anger she's unsuccessfully been repressing throughout the entire promo.
"The world isn't safe, Sarah! It isn't just, it isn't fair, and you can't fix it! But that's not what you want. You don't want justice, not really. You just want an excuse to feel superior. You find faults, no matter the cause, no matter how small, and you dig your nails in and rip them open on those fault lines. And when backlash comes, as it will, you hide behind those who spring to your defense. Because of course they do. You're a beautiful woman, and that means there are always going to be those who hide behind their screens, reading your tracts, and think that if they defend you, they'll have a chance to...scratch the itch, should we say?"
She rolls her eyes, shaking out the remains of the eyes that had been crushed between her fingers. Helena pauses, looking down at her hands, and licks the tip of one of her fingers. She shrugs, a slightly surprised look on her face, and looks back up again.
"You cheated me, Sarah. You're a hypocrite, a liar, and a thief. This...what's going to happen to you...this is true justice. I hope you learn from this. And I hope you find your way. I sincerely do...see you soon..."
Helena grins, and the lightbulb flickers out to the echoing sound of children's laughter.
Michelle looked up at Grace, eyes bloodshot and voice croakingly weary, and nodded. Grace helped her over to the couch, and as she sat down Michelle let out a shuddering sigh of relief. She took a deep breath, looking over, and nodded again. "All of this has just been...draining."
Grace nodded understandingly as she reached over, rubbing Michelle's shoulder. "Then ask for a week off. Take some time from the schedule. The show'll survive without you for an episode."
Michelle's nod in reply came slowly, haltingly, as if it had to overcome some mammoth summit to even pull itself into being. "I have to, Grace. I...I need distance. Win or lose, I want the week after October Revolution off. I just...oh God, I don't think she's acting..."
Grace tilted her head, visibly puzzled. "Who's not acting now?"
"Eternity." Michelle looked up at Grace again, exhaustion mingling with fear in her eyes and voice. "She's not doing what I'm doing. I saw them loading Shea into the ambulance. She broke her arm, Grace, she broke her fucking arm. All because she wanted Warren to learn his lesson? What the fuck is that shit, Gracie? Months of her life, all that rehab, just to fuck with someone else? She's a human fucking being, Grace. All I could think when I was watching that is 'what if that were Grace? What if she did that to her?' I..." she trails off, unable or unwilling to go further down that train of thought.
Grace pulled her into a hug, gently patting her on the back. "Hey. Hey. It's not going to happen. I've been at home this entire time, right? I'm not in the arena, I'm nowhere she can find me. She'd have to track me down, and that doesn't seem her style. Look, between Eternity and Sarah, you've been under a lot of stress. I think a week off the road would be good for you. It'll be your week to unwind and relax. Treat yo self."
Michelle couldn't help but crack a grin at Grace, nodding slowly. She sat up a little more, nuzzling into Grace's arms as she sighed. "Treat mah self. And treat you." She reached up, poking Grace in the nose. For her part, Grace just casually waved off the poke, sniffling a little and chuckling. Michelle burrowed into the hug more, remaining silent as the two women held each other in silent contentment.
After about a minute, Michelle did speak up again. "...Grace, I want to keep going."
Grace nodded wearily, clearly having seen this coming. "I know. You've always been my little nitro junkie."
Michelle chuckled, a faint grin on her face. "Heh. Puns. Wrestling puns...this feels good, Grace. No matter how scary it gets, I love going out there and putting on a show. And people like me. Hell, Pandora Freeman was all 'kick her ass, baby, I got your flower' on Twitter."
"The girl who took advantage of that fast count? Really?" Grace shook her head. "Well, I don't know. Just don't start calling the fans your freaky darlings or something. That's just—"
"Cartoonish?" Michelle replied, utterly deadpan. "Yeah. I don't want to turn into some toothless stereotype, raving about how cuh-razy I am. Show, don't tell." She turned onto her side, yawning. "I don't want to cook, and you are so out of spoons today. I can see it in your eyes. Wanna order pizza?"
Grace chuckled at Michelle as she lay curled up on the couch like a cat. "Weren't we supposed to be living the high life?"
Michelle waved her hand dismissively. "Later. Now, we order pizza and I take a—" she interrupted herself with a loud yawn, scrunching up her eyes as she shook her head. "...take a nap. We'll call that yawn Exhibit A."
Grace reached over the arm of the couch, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over Michelle's curled form, despite the smaller woman's protests. "The prosecution rests," Grace snarked at Michelle, "or at least it had better rest. I know what you like. Sleeeeeep."
A faint, somewhat indignant "murr" emanated, muffled, from within the blanket. Grace smiled fondly at the blanket-covered figure next to her, standing up and walking over to her laptop. As she sat down, Michelle's head poked itself out from tbe blanket, brow furrowed as she attempted to sleep. As we faded out, a sentence dropped from Michelle's lips, mumbled as if it had simply slipped free from her subconscious.
"Sleep...and then we dream."
We open in a very familiar space: the cell where we first met Helena. She's pressed up against the wall again, tucked into a corner, still in her ring gear. Her voice echoes out of the corner, sullen and hollow, as the bare bulb flickers overhead again.
"You made...such a mistake last week, Sarah. I...I'm not just here because this beautiful freakshow with fists is the only place on Earth that really feels like home anymore. No, I'm here because every time I win, every time I push someone over the edge, I feel a sense of gratification. It feels good to make them realize their limits. But you? You recoil whenever your boundaries are tested, retreating as you scream about injustice. Injustice..."
Helena chuckles quietly to herself, the laughter quickly increasing in volume, and the light flickers as her laugh turns into an inarticulate scream of rage. Helena whirls around, revealing stark, almost minimalist corpse paint, and solid jet-black eyes. She snarls at the camera, practically barking at it like a wild animal.
"WHERE WAS YOUR SENSE OF JUSTICE?! Hmm? Were you crusading for equality and fair treatment when you cheated me like a pool-hall hustler?! Your hand hit that mat so fast, I thought you were having a SEIZURE! And see, that's what's been..."
Her right hand raises, trembling with rage, to her ear, pinky finger darting out and scratching at the ear canal as her other hand clenches into an almost claw-like shape.
"...burrowing into my ear like a parasite, digging its way through my brain and making its nest right where I can't reach it, no matter how! Hard! I try! You put this thing in me, Sarah, this obsession, and it's your responsibility as much as mine! I want you to take responsibility for this thing you've given life to! I want to pay you back for every night it's eaten away at me, take those moments from you in flesh and blood and beautiful RETRIBUTION!"
Helena breathes heavily, bringing her hands down, and looks at them. All we can hear for a long few moments is the sound of her breaths, heaving in and out. Quietly, she speaks again, almost sobbing with her frustration.
"...I want to take your future from you, Sarah. I want to take what you could achieve. I want to take that sense of self-assured confidence that you walk around with, PARADE around with, and rip it from your hands raw and bloody. What are you under the mask, Sarah? I want to know. I NEED to know..."
Helena reaches into her pockets, taking a few steps back and leaning against the barren concrete. She takes a deep breath, frantically muttering under her breath, barely audible to the audience. She pulls her hands out of her pockets, a rosary clamped in her right hand and her left loosely closed around something that remains cupped in her palms. She shakes her head, trying to strangle her emotions back into check.
"...because I want to help you. Isn't that the worst part of it all? I want to help you, Sarah, even after all the wrong you've done to me. I feel it deep inside me. It's a compulsion...to help, in the only way I can. Because if someone doesn't, then you're going to suffer for no reason. If you suffer, it has to be for a reason. That's what Sister Superior taught me. Misery, suffering, sorrow, pain...they're all part of a plan. I want to help you find your plan, Sarah, but you can't see the path. Your eyes don't work. They're blind, and you made them that way."
She runs her right hand through her hair, opening her left tentatively and extending it to the camera. In her hand sit two eyeballs, the same color as Sarah's eyes, looking as if they were ripped from the sockets in which they had resided. Helena offers the eyes to the camera, a half-smile on her face.
"You need these, Sarah. You need a new set of eyes to see the world with, because you don't see the world as it is. You've...put this fantasy into your mind, and it's blinded you. You demand the world warp around you, fit your needs, fit your expectations of how things should be...should. We don't get should, Sarah. We get what is. And you think the world should be your safe space..."
Helena snaps her hand shut, a wet squelching pop issuing forth, and the calm in her voice is gone, replaced by the anger she's unsuccessfully been repressing throughout the entire promo.
"The world isn't safe, Sarah! It isn't just, it isn't fair, and you can't fix it! But that's not what you want. You don't want justice, not really. You just want an excuse to feel superior. You find faults, no matter the cause, no matter how small, and you dig your nails in and rip them open on those fault lines. And when backlash comes, as it will, you hide behind those who spring to your defense. Because of course they do. You're a beautiful woman, and that means there are always going to be those who hide behind their screens, reading your tracts, and think that if they defend you, they'll have a chance to...scratch the itch, should we say?"
She rolls her eyes, shaking out the remains of the eyes that had been crushed between her fingers. Helena pauses, looking down at her hands, and licks the tip of one of her fingers. She shrugs, a slightly surprised look on her face, and looks back up again.
"You cheated me, Sarah. You're a hypocrite, a liar, and a thief. This...what's going to happen to you...this is true justice. I hope you learn from this. And I hope you find your way. I sincerely do...see you soon..."
Helena grins, and the lightbulb flickers out to the echoing sound of children's laughter.
Well howdy there pardner.