Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Jenny Myst · (11-07-2020)

"I used to think that this game would always be too big for me, that it would be over my head, that the men would rule the roost and us girls would have to sit there as side pieces. I used to think that I was only an accessory to the champion, not that I could ever be one. Everyone wonders why I take my belt so seriously....when you feel like something is out of your reach, and you reach it, you want to protect it. Fiercely defend it. Now that I sit on top of the world, I never want to know what the bottom feels like again. I want to be an influence, a role model, Exhibit A when you think of success. When you think of the comeback story. Who woulda thunk it four years ago, huh? Who woulda thunk that Jenny Myst would be the one with the belt while Chris Chaos sits on the sidelines, waiting for the coach to put him in the game. Back then, nobody paid attention to me. Now, they don't have a choice but to. Hell, I even pay more attention now. This has all been so overwhelming, but so exhilarating at the same time. A whirlwind of epic proportions. Truth be told, in some ways I'm still that scared little girl taking on the world all alone. In so many ways I am a grown woman, with her shit together, who has figured out that the only time fear wins is when you let it. This world is a crazy place, but sometimes, you've got to be crazier.

They used to call me crazy. The adopted girl from North Las Vegas who told the world she was going to be President one day. A girl who had the self confidence of a mouse but the personality of a lioness. I always wanted more, but never had the wherewithal to go and get it myself. I always relied on it being given to me, standing there with my hand out, waiting, hoping, hell even praying, for some generosity. I brought than mentality here with me. I came into this place with the same mentality. I was hoping that I could skate by with my looks like I always had. A smile, a bat of the eyes, a hair flip. It's not difficult to flirt your way into success when you look like me. My entire life, I knew how to get things the easy way, but always preferred the hard way. Something inside me wanted that sense of accomplishment, but something inside me was fighting it too.

There's that word again, fear.

I used to let fear control me. Now, the only thing I fear is how successful I truly can become here. The monster that scratches and claws her way out. I no longer fear failure, but fear that one of these days my success will become too much. When you've reached the top, the only place to go is down, right? Good thing for me is that I am nowhere near my peak yet. The summit is still miles away, and there is a lot of climbing left to do. I have finally become my own woman, have achieved my own success, and now I need to show the world that it wasn't just a fluke. Winning a title here isn't difficult, I mean, Peter Gilmour was the Universal Champion here. That alone proves that

can indeed achieve some success here. Defending your title is the hardest part of being a champion here. Peter failed to do so, but then again, he fails at everything. He is a living embodiment of failure. I refuse to be the Peter Gilmour of the women's division. I know how failure feels, and I have Chris Chaos to thank for that as well. Three whole years I've been the emotional support animal, the therapy dog for a man whose success has been more than limited. Chris Chaos is nothing but Christmas decorations. Bright and shiny when on, but left up way too long, and eventually we are all just like "okay, get it, you looked good once but enough is enough." Peter, same thing. He calls himself the god of extreme when I am 100 percent sure I have had periods harder than him. Peter has never had a problem with me. In fact, he has been very cordial towards me over the years. I have always had to fake a smile and a laugh due to the affiliations that Chris had forced me into. Peter has never mattered much to me, and now I get to take out all of the frustrations of faking it for three years. I get to open his eyes to the fact that he is nothing but the Down the Clown game at the XWF arcade. We've been taking shots at him for years, but he always seems to get up and come back for more. No matter how many times we hit him in the face, there he is, back again with that stupid smile. Well, this time I get to knock him down again and hopefully, for his sake, he stays down. I have dealt with many guys like Peter throughout my life. They think they are above everyone else, especially women. I have been looked down upon by guys like Peter my entire life just because I have tits and a pretty face. Well, let me tell you something Peter. I have bigger balls than you'll ever have. I've had to survive though things that would make you curl up in the fetal position and hide for the remainder of your life. You couldn't handle what I have had to handle. You're an extreme joke. Sure, physical scars are one thing, but the mental and emotional turmoil I have had to endure though out my short life would make even the biggest of men crumble. I am a monster now, Peter, and this monster comes in the form of perfectly manicured nails, a little hair dye, and a C cup.

I said it a long time ago and I meant it. The secret to victory, is defeat.

Peter hasn't learned this yet, but he's always been a little behind the curve. He hasn't had the desire to go out and get it because he's never had to. Peter will latch onto any sad sap who gives him two seconds of attention. Do you think Chris Chaos really wanted you in Chaotic Inc, or needs you? He didn't feel like facing you that night, so he convinced your 12 year old mind it was a conspiracy and used you to cause chaos. Beating up everyone around to get himself over. To him, you're just another tool in the shed. To me, you're just a tool.

Now I have to team up with the worlds most ready-to-put-out Disney character who has her beady little eyes on the title I have worked so hard for, and you get to team up with the Smallville extra who claims to be a vampire but looks more like an angry lesbian. What's he so angry about other than the fact that him being on a card bears no meaning to the quality of the show? Do you really like your odds here, Peter? Do you really think Zane Norrison is going to be your ace in the hole? I've been in the ring with Ash Quinn, she's one tough bitch. I've also been in the ring with Zane, and he's also a bitch. But make no mistake, I am THE bitch, and I am going to make the two of you wish you never developed the Y chromosome. Emasculation, table for two!

My entire life has been a trial run for this moment. At High Stakes I am going to have to defend my title, but until that moment I will take on any and all comers. Ash and I are going to show you two "men" that a woman's worth is worth more than it's given credit for. We are going to tear each other apart at High Stakes, but on Warfare, we are going to show the entire world that we're more than just cute outfits and too many emoji's. Women are the strongest creatures on this planet. You're here because of a vagina, and after November 11th, you'll be dead because of one.

Insert abortion joke here."

I used to watch the birds. I used to envy them, to be honest. The way they would be at peace all the time, hopping around all happy, without a care in the world. The way that they always looked happy.

I wanted to be happy.

But the thing that really spoke to me about the birds was the way they could just go away. If something bothered them, spooked them, upset them, or made them uncomfortable, they could just take off and fly away. A nearby tree, roof, anywhere. Just take off and go. The sparrows mostly. They would sing their songs, chirp to each other, and bounce around like the world wasn't a terrible place.

Sometimes I would sit and watch them for hours. Time didn't exist when I watched the birds. They didn't mind that I was there, either. They didn't mind very much. Sometimes I would go there, sitting on the park bench, and bring bread from home. I knew I would get a whipping for taking the bread, but I didn't care. Seeing the birds happy and hopping around was worth any bruises or welts that I would recieve. Often times, I would sit there with my legs crossed, wincing as I did from the aftermath of the previous nights activities....

Sometimes when he was doing it, I would think of the birds. It got me through it.

I would pick the pieces of bread apart. I had them designated differently for the different birds. Sparrows, Robins, Pigeons, even the crows. They all would come together to eat the bread, and somehow, they were the only real family I ever had. I would smile at them, and it made me feel good that they were, or so I told myself, smiling back at me.

Sometimes I would get up, feeling the warm liquid left over the night before shifting as I shifted, and I would go to leave. The birds would follow me. Hopping behind, asking me in their own special way for more food.

I could use the company anyway.

So I sat back down, wincing again. I still remember it.

Every once and a while a car would come by, the the birds would scatter. They would fly away, usually in mass, getting away from immediate danger until it was safe to come back. They would always return, though. They were the only living beings in my life who would leave and return.

I loved them for that.

Sometimes, when I couldn't go to the park or couldn't get my hands on the family bread supply, I would sit on the porch outside my North Las Vegas home and watch them. But these, they were different birds. Ominious birds. I loved them too, but they didn't need my help. Nor did they want it.

These were hawks. These birds would soar high, scanning then landscape below them. They didn't have fear, they WERE fear. The way the other animals scrambled when they were in the area, it was shocking to me. I could watch them almost as long as the happy birds, but eventually it would be too hard for me.

I didn't have their confidence, I wasn't a predator, I just lived with one.

These birds, like the happy birds, had the ability to fly away from anything they didn't like. I envied that. I was jealous. Somewhere, deep down, I hated them for it. I loved them and hated them at the same time. Why did they get the ability to just up and go, to a spot where nobody could catch them, whenever they wanted?

He is calling me again. I watch the hawk circle. He is about to come downstairs and pull me inside, and the hawk is about to grab the mouse, or bunny, or small dog....whatever it wanted, it would TAKE.

Whatever he wanted, he would TAKE.

I wanted to fly away, soar to the heavens........but I was stuck in this damn wicker chair in 100 degree heat.

I knew, right then, that I needed to consider myself a bird. I needed to get up, to fly away, to soar.

I heard footsteps, he was almost to the door.

I took off and ran. I heard the door open, I heard him shouting, but I kept going. I was soaring, I was getting away from what bothered me, I was free........

I pushed the muscles in my legs to work harder, to fly higher.

My tennis shoes hit the pavement for the umpteenth time when I heard the car engine behind me.

TO BE CONTINUED

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Fly Higher
Author	Message