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Jenny Myst · (01-06-2021)

PRESENT DAY:

The couch wasn't the most comfortable in the world, she wasn't going to lie. She had to shift several times to even make it manageable. But they said they were a "Mental Health" office, not a "Comfortable Couch" office. His title was "Doctor". So she could deal, she supposed.

"So tell me what is troubling you."

The voice was deep and soothing, as you would imagine it would be. Someone could get lost in it.

"Oh shit, Doc, where the hell do I begin?"

"From the beginning would be nice."

"You charge hourly?"

She was stalling. This wasn't going to help. Talking about it meant she was thinking about it, and she sure had done enough of that.

"Jennifer, you are stalling. You are never going to get anywhere if you keep this inside."

He was right, but was he ready for this shit storm? He had probably heard worse, right?

"Well, okay.....I will start from the beginning then......."

She had told this story before, but never to someone who actually cared enough to listen. She had told multiple therapists over multiple years, and this story had been buried deep in the vault of her consciousness. Now, her demons were plaguing her again, and she realized she needed to get these memories off her chest again to be fully "cleansed". She remembered it verbatim, and the words just came pouring out.

The house was okay, she guessed. It wasn't her house, but any house is better than under the overpass on Las Vegas Boulevard. She was cold, even in the Vegas heat.

"So let me show you to your room, Jennifer."

God she hated her full name. Jenny just sounded better. It flowed off the tongue, at least to her it did.

She grabbed her bag and began to carry it up the stairs. The stairs were carpeted. She didn't know they put carpet on stairs, and the soft fabric felt good under her socks. Upon reaching her room, she couldn't believe the vastness of it. She didn't wanna seem ungrateful, she had just come from outside, but for a confined space it wasn't bad.

"This will be your bed. I will let you get acclimated. Dinner is at 7."

The lady seemed nice enough and the man who picked her up from the shelter seemed okay, though kind of timid and always looking out of the rearview. This felt like a foreign country, but was sort of a fresh start. It would be nice to be in a house without negativity.

Or so she thought.

The dinner was nice. It was the first real food she had eaten in some time.

That night she hugged her pillow, she couldn't get comfortable. The moon illuminated the room as her tears stained the fresh linen.

"You brought her here without asking me first! You don't know where she is from, what her background is, what if she steals from us!"

The voices were muffled through the door, but she could hear.

"Relax. She isn't going to steal anything. She barely spoke in the car ride."

"She probably can't speak! She probably didn't graduate middle school! Look at her, she hasn't had a shower in her lifetime!"

How could someone be so nice to her face and so mean behind her back. Was she that naïve?

"I don't know if it is going to work!"

"Well then you break the news to her because I won't do it......"

It went on for hours, or what felt like hours. Jenny was a light sleeper, she had to be, so she heard her door open and the man who picked her up come in. She didn't move. Maybe he was just checking on her, maybe he was just seeing if she was asleep.

He moved closer to the bed.

He was sitting on the foot of the bed. She felt a soft hand rubbing the side of her face.

"It's okay" he whispered, "I won't let her send you back. You're precious, and you mean a lot to me."

She didn't move, she couldn't move.

"Everything is going to be alright." His hand slid down her young body, over her small chest and past her belly button. Her eyes went wide under the eyelids.

His hand went down past her belly button and into her pajama pants.

She breathed in deep and harsh, hoping he didn't hear.

It didn't seem like he did hear because he didn't stop.

The next morning she ran away........

..........she was returned to him that afternoon by LVPD......

"That is a terrible situation. I can see why it affected you. Did you rectify the situation?"

"Well.......before or after he sold me to the mob as a sex slave to pay off a debt?"

The doctor's eyes shifted into concern as he shook his head.

It was a hot, sweltering day in Las Vegas. Every day in Vegas is hot--but it is a different kind of hot. It is a dry heat. The type of heat that could cook an egg on the sidewalk, even in the winter. But it gets cold at night--being in the desert there is nothing to hold in the heat. Once the sun goes down the hoodies come on. But the daytime---you would probably die of dehydration and heat stroke by even thinking the word "Hoodie".

North Las Vegas isn't what everyone thinks of as "Las Vegas". It is 3 miles north, a straight shot on Civic Center Drive, and doesn't have all the glitz and glamour that "Las Vegas" proper does. There are trailer parks, burnt out apartment complex's, drugs run rampant and half of the population is on some form of government assistance. A far cry from the multi-billion dollar business just a stone's throw to the south. There are some small pockets of North Vegas were the upper class live, usually those who work in Vegas, because the community of Henderson is too far away to deal with daily traffic and still make it in on time (26 miles). The "Vegas Strip", or "Las Vegas Boulevard" is about 60 miles end to end, from dead end to dead end, and Civic Center Drive was just off of that, to the east. CCD connected to "the strip". Jennifer could even see the hotel lights from the nations largest party city from her bedroom window, though they were a bit blurred.

For a city with so much money, it is amazingly difficult to believe how many people live in pure poverty just off the strip. The Las Vegas strip is an island, so to speak, surrounded by a sea of the some of the worst urban decay in the nation.

.....and nobody notices.....

....and if they do notice, they don't seem to care.

At least the North had SOME decent living standards. The east, south and west side of the Vegas "halo" are shockingly and obscenely dilapidated.

It was on Civic Center Drive that freshly turned 15 year old Jennifer Sambuca sat in the passenger seat of the 2003 Chevy Colorado pickup truck as it rumbled down the cement-laden parkway. Strip mall after strip mall and row after row of identical housing complex's rushed by her, seen through the glare in the dirty glass window. Vegas is such a melting pot, and most of the stirred ingredients are shit. The music was low, but could still be heard through a static scratch emanating from the old radio in the dashboard. Reception was never great in the desert.

But then again, what was?

This was the only place young Jennifer ever knew. She was born in a motel bathroom just north of the strip by a young mother who got into a nightclub with a fake ID and wanted to have a little "fun" before her daughter came. This mother, Jennifer never knew. It wasn't until she was old enough to process this information did she find that tidbit of info out.

Her "dad" was in the driver seat. He had on a what was once nice business dress shirt, open at the top with his gold chain laying over his chest hair. He had on dusty black dress pants and his "Gucci" dress shoes were pressed down on the clutch and gas pedal simultaneously.

This man wasn't perfect, but he was the only father she had ever known. She had been placed in foster care at a young age and bounced from trailer park to trailer park until James an Penny Sambuca decided to bring this "at risk teen" into their home, just north of the Vegas Strip.

Not only did she bounce around homes, but schools as well, never finishing more than 6 months at a school before being shipped somewhere else to "start over" again. She wasn't even sure what grade she was supposed to be in, but the state told her 10th, but she never technically finished 8th.

Before they left their ranch-style house she had been sitting on the toilet in her less than accommodatingly small bathroom that connected to her bedroom. Tears welled in her eyes. She should have never snuck out to go to that party. But Braden Linfield was so hot. He was the son Hunter Linfield, president and COO of the Golden Nugget Casino, and had more money than any person she'd ever met. He had seen her at the Polaris Store when he was picking up his new ATV (she was there to apply for a cleaning position), and he told her she should come to his house for a raging party he was throwing. Said the boys would get a kick out of a natural platinum blonde. Said too many girls in this area looked too, "plain". He asked her her age and she told him 17 (she always looked a bit older than her age), because she didn't want too spoil her chance by telling him she was only, and barely, her real age.

She had never been opposed to using her body to get what she wanted. She got her period at 9, developed B cups, though low B, by 12, and got "curves" at 13. She could get whatever she wanted in Sin City.

---Now she was regretting that decision. Sitting in her hands on her lap was a small, white stick which came out of a coral pink box that sat on the sink. Her hand covered her mouth, her head spun.

How could she have allowed this to happen? As if her life isn't shitty enough------

"JENNIFER! LET'S GO!" her "father" was crashing around the house, feverishly looking for something. He had called her several times now, but she was too much in shock to move.

He seemed frantic. She didn't understand why. It was 1:30 in the afternoon, on a Wednesday. But she didn't want to anger him. Last thing she needed was to get kicked out of yet another home. A twin sized bed where she could touch the ceiling laying down was better than the grassy patch under the interstate.

She left the bathroom, putting the stick back into the box. The box under her bed.

Walking out into the main room, she saw her dad stuffing a baggie with a white substance into a backpack.

"JENNIFER! Finally....finally...jesus what were you doing in there? Here....take this, we need to go."

He tossed the backpack to her. She looked at it and shook her head.

"Get in the truck, Jen. Don't ask questions."

The truck continued to roll. They were getting to a big building at the north side of the strip. The "Strip" everyone knows was still about 3 miles down the road. Something told her they weren't headed there.

Roaring into a parking lot, her dad slammed it into park and pulled the E break.

"Out, get out" he said. He rubbed his nose. There was a bluish aura to it.

She stepped out. Her converse sneakers touched to warm cement. Her short jean shorts barely covered her ass and her tank top was beginning to show sweat stains on the lower back and under her new boobs. Her makeup, though, as usual, was flawless. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail.

She examined herself in the mirror as her "father" hurried around to her side of the car.

-----Her "mother" was never home anymore. When she was, she had a female friend with her. She claimed the two were only friends, but Jennifer had found the drive by wedding chapel brochure in the garbage when she was throwing away a maxi pad. She didn't ask questions, but had suspicions.

She also saw a lot of younger neighborhood girls leaving her house when she was on her way home, when only her father was home. He was "working from home" on those days. Every so often, one of those girls would go missing. She never thought anything of it, and her father said he was helping them with homework. She wasn't one to ask questions. ----

"Come on, let's go. In. In." He pushed her along by the top of the back. His pace was almost tripping her.

When they got inside, they had to go through a dark, dingy back room. Two men came out to meet them. They had suits on, and sunglasses. They didn't talk, just nodded. Jen and her "father" followed, keeping up the same fast pace. Finally they got to an office door.

"You wait here" one of the men said. He opened the door and went inside.

Jen could see out through what she assumed was a 2 way mirror. To those behind it, a mirror. To her, where she was, a window. The people---

--these poor people--

sitting in front of machine's with sunken eyes. Many had cups of coffee next to them and she assumed it wasn't their first. They had wristlets on which were attached to cards that sat in the machine. Like robots they pressed the button. Then pressed it again. Then again. Then again. Many of them looked like they hadn't done anything but press buttons and drink coffee for a very long time. Every once and a while, someone would get up, but only to go to another machine. Machine's with levers. Machine's with buttons. Machine's that controlled lives.

Her attention was broken by the door opening. The man who had brought them there came out and stood by the door. He nodded, and her "father" ushered her in. The man stepped in behind them and shut the door.

The room was huge. Behind an equally huge desk was an Italian looking man, also in a suit.

"You are late, Darren." His voice rumbled like a thunder cloud.

"Sorry---sorry, Vic--I had to find the bag. Yeah, bag. I needed to find it."

He signaled, and the man brought the backpack, which Jen was now holding, over to the thunder man.

"And who is this little treat?" he said, looking Jennifer up and down.

"This is Jennifer...my....my daughter". The man chuckled.

"Another one? Seems a bit older.....mmmm".

Jennifer looked at her "dad" with a concerned look.

"Sir, she's good girl. Determined, hard headed, she has a good work ethic."

That was a lie.

"She can maybe do some tasks around here, help to make up more of what I owe."

Jen went to protest but the man behind the desk was up. He put a finger on her lips. Reaching back he undid her ponytail, and he blonde hair fell free. He smiled.

"She will do just fine."

He nodded and she felt big hands on her front behind. The last thing she remembered was screaming for her father.......

"Father".

The chips clicked as they spread across the table. Some men had headphones on, others wore sunglasses, but almost all of them were dressed well. One guy had a cowboy hat on. All of them appeared to be over 35 years old. Almost all of them had tan lines where their wedding rings normally sat.

This was the high stakes room. The big money area. These were rich guys who thought their shit didn't stink. Who could buy their way into or out of anything that they deem fit. These men can commit crimes because they have judges in their back pockets. They play poker with $10,000 buy ins simply because they are bored.

Tonight, though, something felt off about tonight. 15 year old Jenny stood in a white top, tightly fitting, and a black leather skirt. Her hair was still in pigtails, but this time because she was told it had to be--and her shoes were uncomfortable heels that hurt her ankles. She was still learning how to walk in these damn things....he just wished she could put her converse back on..

....why couldn't she go home?

..................but what is home? She's bounced around more than a superball

.............why couldn't she go back to the ranch house? Why didn't they love her? They told her they loved her.

"Hey sexy, I need a drink". The man had a grumble voice, and a well-manicured goatee. "Make it snappy, toots, I'm gonna be big blind in a minute".

"You'll be big blind when I stick my finger in my eye you fucktard.." she thought to herself, but said nothing. She just smiled and nodded and walked over to the cooler in the back of the room. He had been drinking beer all night, Stella, and she assumed that is what he wanted again. Grabbing one out of the cooler, she put it on the tray. She didn't need the tray for a single bottle, but these men liked to feel like they were being waited on. Like they were special. She poured it into a cup. They liked that too. A chilled cup. Like they were important.

So she walked back towards the oval table just as the dealer was dealing the river card. As she walked around the end of the table, one of the men with the tan-lined fingers reached out and pinched her ass. She was not expecting this. She turned to look the man and miss-stepped. Her ankle turned and she tumbled, the beer flying off the tray. The cup went flying and hit the man who had requested the drink. His shirt was wet. The dealer dealt the final card just as the man jumped up...

"WHAT THE FUCK!" His cards landed on the table face up. The man across from him put his cards down.

"Straight Flush, With the nuts! Boo ya!" And reached across, taking the now wet mans chips.

The now beer covered man was enraged. His face was tomato-red. "YOU LITTLE BITCH!" he said. Before she knew it, she was on the carpet with a stinging sensation in her face. He stood over her, breathing heavily with his hand back up in the back hand position.

"Yo, Joe, she didn't do it on purpose" one of the men said, "she's just a dumb blonde skank who probably got plowed so hard last night she is having trouble walking."

Two of the other men laughed.

15 year old Jenny was blushing a bit, she was clearly embarrassed. "I....I'm sorry" she said sheepishly.

"Oh yeah, you're sorry! I just lost ten thousand dollars because you don't know how to walk properly!"

He put his designer dress shoe on her ankle and pressed down.

"You really won't be able to walk when I crush your damn leg you little tramp----"

"JOE!" It was the big man from the desk she had seen when her "father" dropped her off.

"She is worth nothing to me with broken bones. It is bad enough I am going to have to do something about that mark on her face."

He man from the desk lifted her up from under her arms, standing her up. He put his hand on her waist, slipping a finger below the skirt line.

"Maybe she can make it up to you in a different way." She could hear him sniffing her neck.

Next thing she knew, she was laying on an uncomfortable queen sized bed in a dark room. Her little skirt was pushed up around her waist. The angry red faced man was in the room, she could hear him breathing. His big hands were prodding around in area's she didn't want, like, or need them in. But the man from behind the desk. He said she had to. She had cost this man a lot of money and the desk man said "it will be in your best interest to make up for it."

She knew what that meant.

She hated what that meant.

.........but she felt herself getting a little moist. Fuck.

"You're gonna make it up to me, aren't ya baby." He almost groaned out.

She felt herself blushing again as she felt a finger slip in.

....She needed to get out of here, out of this place, away from him.

She felt a finger on her lips......"shhhhh", but soon realized....it wasn't a finger.

NO

But it was in before she realized. Her entire face felt full. There was a large hand gripping her head and pulling her towards what felt like a grill brush pad with a terrible odor.

NO

But what was she to do. With a hand this size, he could snap her neck. Her throat was full, she could feel the corners of her lips beginning to stretch......her tonsils ached.

There was only one thing she could do.

She grabbed the edge of the shaft, and began to run her hands up and down it. She heard the man groan.

The quicker she could get this over with, the better. She tried to see if she could detect anything in the room that she could hit him with. It was dark except for a small red light in the corner of the room....

OH

MY

FUCKING

GOD

ARE THEY FILMING THIS?!

Jenny began to try to pull away but the hand pushed the back of her head, making her gurgle again. It was getting difficult to breath.

She reached out into the darkness. She knew these men would kill her, but that was a risk she needed to take.

This wasn't her life. Sure, she didn't really have much of a "life", but most of her choices she chose herself. She refused to be forced to do anything. That just wasn't her style.

She felt the man tense up. It was almost time. Reaching for something--anything--out of desperation, she ran her hands over a phone. A chorded phone. Fidgiting with the plug in chord, she unplugged it.

"Ohhhh babbyyy.....get ready, you little bitch......your gonna swallow this load"

Wait for it

Wait for it

She felt pre cum beginning to leak.

Wait for it.

She felt the dick begin to leak---

NOW

She bit down. She felt a liquid in her mouth, but it didn't taste like jizz.

It tasted like blood.

The man screamed and she swung her hand. She connected with what she guessed was blood. And a good amount of it. The men fell back, exiting her mouth, and by the sound of it she assumed tumbled onto the floor.

It was now or never. She got up off the bed, her feet touched the cold floor. Door, door, she needed to find a door.

Seeing a small crack bleeding with light through the bottom she ran towards it at full strength---which wasn't much for a 100lb teenager. She hit the area right above the light crack, and luckily, for her, it bust open.

Their mistake was her gain.

Everyone at the table in the other room stared at in her awe and shock. She didn't have time to acknowledge, she took off running. Her bare feet hit the carpet and she made her way for the door. On her way out she grabbed the tray used to serve drinks. This was a shield, and possibly a defense mechanism. Either way, she could use it. She ran as fast as her body could take her towards the door. Bursting through it, she found herself in the parking lot. But as she turned the corner, the man from the room stepped out in front of her.

"You little bitch! You're gonna die!"

She tried to run past him and he grabbed her arm. She broke free. He grabbed her again but her momentum took them both to the ground. She could feel the wet spot from the blood on his pants.

She swung, she hit the man in the head. She felt it make contact.

He reached out and grabbed her leg. He had a knife in one hand. He slashed, and cut the back of her leg. She stumbled. Turning around, he brought the tray down on his head. Again, and again and again and again and again and again and again and again. The tray was covered in blood. Her mascara was running. Two cars pulled up, men got out. She was surrounded. She dropped the tray.

"It's over, you little diva" one man said, "you're gonna learn today."

"Next up to the stage, we have Myst....get those singles out......take care of her." The voice was almost computerized. It was like a robot. Her heels clicked on the metal floor. The lights were bright....bordering on too bright. She hated to squint, but it burned not to.

Her calf muscles hurt too. These heels sucked. But she needed the money. She grabbed the pole and spun. The air felt good. The drugs were beginning to hit though. Her vision was hazy. She thought she saw some men sitting in the chairs nearby the stage. She couldn't be 100 percent, but hanging upside down like a bat they all looked the same.

Hands were grabbing, her body was sheen with sweat. Hands were lifting her clothing, what little of it there was, away from her body. Men were saying things like "hey baby" and calling her things like "sugartits". Who says sugartits?

Damn these drugs were strong. She could barely stand. But she stood on stage to the best of her ability. Her as continued to shake. She always danced to metal. Some people liked it, some didn't.

Her hair flew into her face. She didn't care.

"So you danced....that is something a lot of young women do. There was a deeper reason you danced, wasn't there?"

Looking around the room she gulped.

"I had to. The same men who kept me as a sex slave made me dance to make them money....."

"We're going to need a longer session. Why tell me all of this now?"

"I have a match this week, Doc. It's for my Shooting Star Championship. I want to get my head right, get all of this off my mind."

"I will cancel my other appointments."

"Can I have a few moments?"

The doctor nodded.

She stepped out into the hallway, and pulled out a pack of Camel Crush Menthol.

In the hallway, Jenny stood, shaking. She was smoking a cigarette, and she didn't even smoke.

After composing herself, she crushed the cigarette in her hand. She enjoyed the burn.

This concerned her.

She turns around and walks back into the door to the doctors office and the XWF cameras follow as the door shuts.

"Were were we....."

"Well...."

"Geri really thinks the Left Hand benefits her. She really thinks that the entire thing isn't lame and corny, and she really believes that going goth is going to mask the fact that she is below average in the ring. This is a façade he is giving you Ger, to mask your deficiencies and give you confidence. But what is going to happen after Savage? What is going to happen after you lose to me and Thunder Knuckles, a former TV champ and my brother in B.O.B, turns you into mashed potatoes? Who then are you going to look to? He'll tell you some BS like "child, there is more to this than winning and losing, there is a bigger picture." Get the fuck out of here with that. You're worth in this company is measured by your wins and losses, by your accolades, and right now Geri the only accolades you're accomplishing is being slightly better than Ash Quinn.

And that is very slightly.

What is going to happen after Thunder Knuckles mashes your face in, you've already lost your title match you wanted to badly to me, and you are left with no direction, a win loss record in the shitter, and the entire company participating in a collective yawn every time your name is mentioned? How will it feel being the failure of a group that hasn't really achieved much of anything anyway? How will it feel knowing that at least Ash Quinn has won SOMETHING, and she's barely got an IQ over 70. The Forrest Gump of the women's division. Geri, I said before I had respect for you. I could have and would have taken you under my wing, Sarina and I are looking for a third member of Hell's Belle's, and we would have groomed you to be a champion and a top tier competitor on this roster. We would have given you the guiding light needed to be the star you so desperately want to be. Don't you see it, Ger? The Left Hand doesn't give a shit about you. It's all about him. The spotlight on him. HIS story, HIS vision, HIS big stage. You're a pawn and you are expendable to him. I can talk until I am blue in the face, but it is going to be up to you to see it.

How many losses will it take until you wake the fuck up?

There are tiers here, levels. I sit on one but I would be foolish to say I sit at the top. If I did, I'd have the Universal Title around my perfect waist right now. Instead, I sit atop the women's division, holding the Shooting Star Title, the RLF True Title, and the title of Queen. I am the Universal Champion of the ladies, the bar that needs to be reached, the status quo that has been set. I am the pinnacle of success in this business. Like me or hate me, I have been successful here. I have fought my way to the top and I have earned every single thing I have right now. Not a single thing has been handed to me. I didn't have some high-talking douche in a silk robe patting me on the back when I sucked......I sucked and I got better ON MY OWN. You really think Chaos was any help? He was about as useless to me as Baph is to everyone else. It was all about him, all the time. Sound familiar? I put in countless hours at perfecting my craft and I didn't expect anything from anyone other than myself. Geri if you are too dumb to realize the trap you are walking into, that's on you but I refuse to be part of this. I joined RMI for the benefits, you joined Left Hand because you're easily manipulated, and simple minded. It's easy to see, and we see right through you.

Everyone sees through you. Sees right through the left hand.

Your boss seems to think he has the stones to last a while here, but with the newest edition to B.O.B, The Right Hand, and the baddest band of heels in the business today, The Left Hand is nothing more than the flavor of the month. They are cool now, but their luster will fade. Why? Because they refuse to adapt. Sure, he has "changed" you, but where is the continued growth? Now that you are this "wolf" persona, there is nowhere else to go. This should have been a slow build but he flipped you and your simple mind over night, and now the load has been blown prematurely. Go get a towel and wipe it off, its not a good look. If you are going to be all spooky and dark, at least be good at it.

Be good at something, for god sakes.

I really don't have to, and I probably shouldn't, but if I have said it once I've said it a thousand times. I am a generous Queen. Let me give you a little free advice. To be successful in this place, you need to be able to talk the talk and walk the walk. You can have the wittiest insults in the world, you can rip someone limb from limb with your words, but at the end of the day if you aren't the total package you will end up being exposed. You will be hunted, and eventually killed. You become a target. So far, you haven't proven you can do either. You have the trash talk of an angry toddler and in the ring it looks like someone put a paper bag over your head and tied it shut. You need to figure out what you're worse at (good luck sorting through that garbage bag), and fix it. Little by little. Baby steps. You're fooling yourself if you think that the Left Hand is going to fix anything. Be yourself, Ger, don't be what someone else tells you to be. Just my advice. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

Now, be gone, peasant.

Jenny and Sarina walked to her car after Jenny's appointment. As they got into the car and Jenny put the pink sports car in gear. They drove back to the hotel, where Sarina had red wine and shrimp cocktail prepared for the two of them. From the comfort of their luxury suit, they began to girl-talk.

"You know, Sar, I have been doing some thinking."

"Oh god, that's never a good thing."

"Shut it. But no, for real.....I have been thinking about all of this left hand stuff, all of the B.S that has been going on lately, and to be frank I look at it as a compliment. I am a threat to them, to what they want to do. They want to eliminate me because I am that good, and I put a wrench in their plans. They want these sub par women to hold gold here, when they would NEVER hold gold otherwise, and it is my job to keep kicking their ass and crushing their dreams. Beating me would be their Super Bowl, it would be the biggest accomplishment this group has ever had. A victory over me is the Left Hand's wet dream. The fact that knocking me off means so much to them....its a rush....I get off on it."

"Gross".

"They think because they have the Anarchy Title that there is some validity to their claims. It's total crap."

"Horse poo."

"Isn't that the same belt that Geri won and lost in the same night?"

"Believe it is."

"Thought so. She was goofy looking then, have you seen her now? She looks like Jack Skellington's side piece's side piece."

The two laugh, high-fiving.

"She’s got that “don’t ask me for anal until the third date” haircut.

"You ask for it on the first date?"

"Never mind, tell me more about your plans for this match.....submission isn't your strong suit."

Sarina pours wine into both of their glasses, topping them off. Red Wine, French, classy.

"Well....I wouldn't say its not a strong suit. I don't feel like I have any weaknesses right now. Did you see what I did to Ash's leg at High Stakes? And, if you remember, I beat Madison Dyson with the heel lock. I mean, is it my go-to? No, but I have been putting in the work to get better at it. Always nice to have in your back pocket. I can do what I have to do. I don't feel like there is anything I can't do inside that ring. I have proven time and time again that I am several steps ahead, mentally, physically and emotionally. I am a grown ass woman swimming in a sea of little girls. "

Sarina takes a sip of her wine.

She had a more serious look on her face than she normally does. Whatever she was about to say, it wasn't one of her normal wise cracks.

"I think you need to go back."

Her face was deadly serious.

"Excuse me?"

"Your old house, the old room. Where it all began. You'll never be able to truly face your torment until you kick the door down and step inside."

Jenny looked at her wide eyed. Where the hell did this come from?

"Ummm.....we have a plane to Italy to catch, girl. We can't go almost an hour out of the way....."

"Trust me. You will feel so much better."

Jenny downed her red wine in one giant gulp. Setting the glass down she looked at Sarina. "Fuck it."

Two hours later they were walking up the driveway to Jenny's childhood home. It was now overgrown with weeds and there were several large cracks in the ashpault. They got to the front porch and Jenny immediately began to shiver.

"I don't wanna do this."

Sarina took Jenny's hand in hers and looked at her with a smile. "I'll do it with you."

"You weren't there. This place doesn't mean the same to you that it does me."

"But you mean something to me. You and that title around your waist and making sure your head is in enough of a right place to keep it. Come on."

Sarina opened the now rickety and paint chipped door.

The house was literally falling apart, having not been inhabited since that fateful day 8 years ago.......

"Come on, up the stairs."

Jenny looked at the living room. The couch that her and her "father" used to watch TV on. The kitchen where her "mother" used to make dinner every single night.

She gripped the bannister with white knuckles. Sarina basically had to drag her up the stairs.

The upstairs was dark, the hallway leading to that old room of hers was even more ominous now than it was in her teens. There was light emanating from under it, clearly the bright Vegas sun through the plate glass window.

The floorboards creaked under her feet. Her hand, her left hand, gripped the door handle. She jiggled it open, much like "he" had done so many times before. Just before she could put some force into it to open it, she began to shake. Her knees felt weak. All of the pain, the torment, the torture......she felt it all come back. A place that was supposed to make her so happy, a place that was supposed to be a second chance........

She looked at Sarina.

Sarina nodded at her.

Jenny pushed the door open and stepped inside.

TO BE CONTINUED:

"Geri, I'll admit, it's been tough for me. I am the way I am because I have been hardened to be this way. I have survived things that no woman, no person in general, should ever have to survive. I have had these memories looming in the back of my head, and had largely shoved them out before you guys came along. Now I re-live my past, and I stare it face to face. I look at everything I have been through, and it makes this Shooting Star Title that much more special to me. It is a symbol of everything I have earned, all I have fought to accomplish. It is a symbol of a girl coming into this business, taking on all comers, and most importantly, never giving up. Do you know how many times I have wanted to curl up in a ball and die? How many times I have wanted to just end it all, when I felt like I was never going to amount to anything, when I felt like my entire life was a waste. A failure. Do you know how many times I looked in the mirror and hated what looked back? How close my baggage was to being too heavy for me to carry?

Geri, the Left Hand doesn't scare me because I am no longer afraid of demons. I am no longer afraid of the shadow's that loom in the darkness. Geri, I haven't submitted to my past, why the hell would I submit now? I am on a roll, and it is a self made roll, a roll that I have spent 4 years of a career and much of my 26 years on earth waiting for. I have my own demons in my head that I have to fight every day, that I have to beat back every day just to get out of bed......

So I ask you.....

Why the fuck would I be afraid of you?"

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