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Jenny Myst · (02-28-2018)

I woke up in a motel room, or at least I assumed it was a motel. I knew it was the ground floor because through the curtains I could see what looked like a parking lot, with a road that was home to the familiar swoosh of passing vehicles. The air was clearly off, or broken, as I was in a pool of sweat and the sheets stuck to me. I felt as though I was part of the bed. Trying to move was the most painful thing I'd ever done. I couldn't even roll over. All I could do was look at the stucco-print ceiling through the dim illumination the curtains allowed. My head spun as soon as I opened my eyes. Every creak, even the slightest, was magnified and made my head pound like thunder on the Oklahoma plains. My eyes felt dry, as if I didn't posess tear ducts, and my throat was a dry cotton feeling. Where was I? There was a small clock on the nightstand, I could tell through my perefial vision, but it hurt too much to move my head. My neck felt as though someone had set a 20 pound dumbbell across it, and it was pressing down on my windpipe. Breathing through my noise was less uncomfortable, so that is what I did.

The room smelled of stale beer and cigarettes. It had a musty smell, like sex, also. Did I have sex? I didn't remember having sex. The room looked as it would pre-check in. Nothing was moved, other than the sheets and comforter on the bed I was seemingly glued to. Based on what I could see, I woke up here but hadn't been here long.

I closed my eyes, temporarily accepting, welcoming even, the darkness. I almost wished I could stay that way. There was something so serine about the darkness, something so peaceful. The only time I felt better was when I shut my eyes, even though they burned.

I sat there in the dark, just the loud creaks and car sounds outside, the occasional cough from a room next door, for what felt like weeks. Finally, I decided to get up. I needed to get out of this room, but it was going to be a struggle. I groaned, loud even to myself, as I peeled myself from the bed that was my moist coffin. My feet touched the floor and I instantly fell, as if I forgot how to walk. Using the bed to pry myself back up, with another groan, I used the wall to edge my way to the bathroom. Every step was accompanied with a pounding in my head. I just wanted water. I felt like I was experiencing the worst hangover of my life. My lower stomach hurt too, but only since I stood up, but it was like someone was taking a jackhammer to it.

I fumbled for the light for a brief moment, before turning it on. Good god did that hurt. Like the light of a million suns. I instantly shut my eyes, but couldn't produce tears. It burned when I closed them now too. Life was hell. When I re-opened my eyes, I was horrified. My face was covered in a cake like glaze, blood, hardened sweat and a sheen layer of dirt. It looked like I had went crawling down a dirt road. I was filthy. What the hell happened. Damn my head hurt. On the mirror in red letters it said "DESIRE". Lipstick? Blood? Oh god, was it blood? That is when I saw the ring on the bathroom sink. It must have been left behind. My eyes went wide because I knew exactly whose ring it was.

The Previous Night

The music was loud, but not too loud. The TV was on but nobody was really paying attention to it. She had made it. She was in with made men. She had escaped the abuse she had suffered at her mob-run foster home as a gambling debt pay off by her step dad, and now she was partying with some of the most noteable men in Las Vegas. All of Nevada, for that matter.

These guys were bad dudes, though, and never had their "parties" in Vegas. Too high profile. They always traveled to Nye county, outside the city, at some dumpy motel to have their events. Less attention would be drawn to them here. Good.

As she laughed out loud again she took another sip from her red cup. A few of the other girls at the party had befriended her, and were drinking alongside her. They seemed a little older than she was, though not by much. And every single one of them was a smokeshow. Hell she was feeling just tipsy enough to possibly think about making out with a couple of them.

A man sat in the corner, by the door, almost as if guarding it. He was smoking a cigarette and had sunglasses on. He didn't say a single word, just sat there staring at the room around him. He had a ring on his finger, shiny, expensive. She was admiring it from the bed, where she sat with her knees up. Her buzz was beginning to take hold, but she wouldn't let it ruin her night.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh" she yelled with a smile, having some fun with it. All of the people were making noise, and a lot of it, coupled with the music in the room---if these people weren't who they were there would most certainly be noise complaints. She got off the bed and walked over to the nightstand where the cups were. She could see out of the corner of her eye two men near the bathroom, talking. They looked at her as she made her way over the the Grey Goose bottle that sat next to the television, but didn't say a word. They continued their conversation after she took some ice out of the bag sitting in the sink. She poured some goose and pulled a small orange juice out of the mini bar fridge.

"Cheers!" she said, tapping cups with another girl. She then brought the cups to her lips before she noticed one of the men motion for her to come over. She set her cup down and walked over.

"How is your night going, sweet tits?"

The mans voice was raspy, as if he were a long time smoker, but had a sweet subtly to it that reassured her for some reason.

"This is wild," she heard herself say out loud. "We are out in the middle of nowhere, blasting music, drinking, hanging out. Honestly........"

She bit her lip, admittedly a bit harder than she would have liked to have.

".....I've never felt better. This is life. Carefree, not a problem to worry about."

She was right, she didn't have a problem anymore. Sure, she had a lot to learn about life, but the past year was total hell for her and for her to be away from all of that was a feeling lifted off her shoulders the size of Alaska.

"Good. Good. You're very beautiful" the man said, pushing her bangs out of her face. "You seem to like to have a good time, also. I think you'd be a good worker."

Worker?

What she didn't see was the man with the glasses, who was now up from the chair and standing by the television. He picked up the room phone, and seemed to be on it.

"Look, we will talk tomorrow, but I was just discussing with my associate here about how we think that you could make us some money. You said before you used to strip in Vegas........."

He continued to make small talk with her, which in her buzzed state didn't bother her. She was overjoyed to talk to someone who actually WANTED to talk to her.

"Whats in it for me?"

"Anything you desire." The man said. "You can have anything you desire, you just need to have the will to want to take it. Never let anyone tell you that you can't. You are going to face some hard times, but it is how you handle it that will be the difference in the long run."

She smiled at the man.

"Anything?"

"Anything you desire, yes."

After a few more moments of small talk that in this condition made minimal sense to her, she walked back over and grabbed her red cup off the table. The man in the glasses was back and sitting down again. She remembered thinking he was creepy but she was having fun for once and figured she wouldn't let it bother her. She took a sip of her drink.

Sometime Later

She snapped out of the blackness with a man on top of her. She could smell his musk, and those damned cigarettes. He was grunting lightly, and his breath smelled horrible. Still groggy, she looked at him through blurry eyes. That is when she noticed a feeling between her legs.

He was inside her.

She struggled to break free but he was much heavier.

"NO! What the fuck! Get off me!"

He continued to thrust forward as she fought, scratched and clawed at his back. Punching him several times. He didn't seem phased. He was bottoming out, and she felt him in her stomach. He put a hand over her mouth. The music was off, the room was empty besides them. To silence her, he covered her mouth with a dirty hand. She bit it.

"Ahhh, you little bitch!"

He brought a big hand down onto her throat. She could feel him pressing in, cutting off her ability to breathe. Her eyes went wide, she thought, but she continued to struggle. He pressed down again and she felt a hot rush running through her, and a dizziness setting back in. She reached for something, anything---maybe a room phone or even a pen---just something to hit him with. She was blacking out. Before the darkness, she noticed the door open and two men come in. He pressed harder until she heard a cracking noise. Before she went black she heard him whisper something about desire. This is what he desired. This is what she desired and he knew she liked it. When you desire something, you have to just take it. Yadda yadda. She noticed the ring shining in the motel room light on the night stand, sitting next to some shades.

"Stop" she heard herself mumble before it all went dark.

"Mandii Rider is like a wart that just won't go away. I thought I was done with this bitch after Warfare. She came back on her white horse and left with her head down like a college girl walk of shame. Her triumphant return, teamed with the XWF's resident "My 600 Pound Life" star, and I soiled it like old people pants. I ruined the Rocky Horror Picture Show of comebacks, and now Mandii thinks that anything she says has an ounce of merit. She thinks she can talk tough and people will actually sit on the edges of their seats, captivated by what is going to come out of her mouth next. She wants to be the tough bitch in front of the camera but is nothing but a scared little girl when the little red light goes off. She tries to justify herself as a champion, but claims she didn't even try? She knew she wouldn't have a partner? She knew she would be on her own in an all-intents-and-purposes handicapped match? Bitch, please, who are you fooling? Robbie, although having the body of a wet paper bag filled with drywall, is a recent Universal Champion. He has main evented. He is one of the top guys here. You just can't seem to get over the fact that you lost, and now you are pointing the finger and placing blame. If you were that good--or at least as good as you claim to be--you would have been able to handle Chris and I all by your lonesome. The truth is you aren't a champion caliber athlete, and you don't have the drive, the urge, the........

Desire

To be champion. What kind of person who doesn't give their all 100 percent of the time deserves to be champion? What happens when the lack of talent in this division catches up to you and you are facing Ezariaha or Jessalyn again one on one? Are you going to keep losing due to minimal effort until you get a match you feel is up to your level, then get your ass kicked in that too? Who is the pathetic one now? You just admitted to not trying---you aren't a champion, you're a self-entitled brat. You had success here in the past and we are supposed to give you a match that you think you deserve after two fucking years? Mandii, you're LUCKY to be in this match, and the only reason you are is because the women's division is in more shambles than Haiti. They put you in it because they needed to give people a reason to watch instead of chalking me up as the winner and going to get a beer. They had to make it somewhat interesting. Key word, somewhat. The reason you wrestle is to be the best? You clearly showed that Wednesday Night, and you clearly showed that by telling us just a few hastily put together sentences later that you didn't even try. Let me tell you something, Mandii. I give it my all in every match these days because I made the same mistake you did. I slept on people and it cost me. I don't care if I am facing a bean bag chair, I am going to make sure that before I leave that ring the stitching is ripped and the stuffing is strewn all over. I don't care who I face because I AM the best, and I think I have done a pretty sufficient job here of showing that.

Mandii, you talk so tough for having such a poor showing. Maybe you've taken one too many shots to that dome of yours. Lets touch on something else, shall we? Me following Chris Chaos around? Lost puppy? You sound like a jealous bitch. Just because you couldn't get laid at a whorehouse with a fistful of 50's doesn't mean that I am playing second fiddle to Chris. In fact, if you would have been paying attention instead of patting yourself on the back undeservedly, you would know that I have been more successful than Chris has recently--ON MY OWN. He left, albeit it an elaborate plan by me to fuck over Finn, but he was gone. What did I do? I won the Bombshell Title, kept it for longer than anyone else, and currently am the only reason this title still exists. Jenny's quest, will she win it or will she fall short. That is the ONLY reason there is still a belt. Me LOSING to Madison was better for business than my useless title defenses over these scrubs, and me WINNING it at Turning Point will bring the ratings over the top. This entire division is about me, it always has been, and it always will be. But, I will admit, I was humbled a bit. I didn't expect to lose, and I let my head get too big for my shoulders. I made a mistake, Mandii, and it is a mistake I do not plan to make ever again. But the way you come off, you think you are bigger and better than this division. You probably think you should be fighting against men, don't you, Mandii?

"You should focus on the Mandii you will be standing face to face in the ring with, not the Mandii who was a weak piece of petty shit. That Mandii you talked about at Warfare is dead and has been dead for awhile now". Really? Because that weak piece of shit sure showed her face when I tossed you around the ring like a cabbage patch doll. That weak piece of shit sure showed when you promo'd twice then disappeared, blaming your partner for a match you had more than one opportunity to win. That weak piece of shit sure showed up when I smacked you like a bitch and you did nothing about it. Mandii, stop with the theatrics to make us all feel for you and just be real.....you aren't that good, and you haven't been for a while now.

I have stood toe to toe and fought to the finish with men like Jack Cain, Brock Lesnar, Robbie Bourbon....giants, monsters, and I never backed down. I fought tooth and nail and I came out unscathed. You couldn't even fight off your ex boyfriend, but we are supposed to think you are some sort of tough bitch who loves pain? No, all you know is pain, there is a difference. You've become immune to it, you don't enjoy it. It is my job to break that threshold and make what your ex did to you look like pre-prom foreplay. I don't grasp onto you and your pathetic excuse for a life because I am jealous but because you being the biggest lying piece of shit to walk planet earth is all you are. What else is there for me to focus on but the charade you call a life? You're the type of bitch who sits behind a keyboard and calls out men on Tumblr for being sexist pigs and makes erroneous claims that you'd put them in their place---but we all know that if they showed up to make you keep your word you'd call the police faster than you could say police. You're a fake bitch, Mandii, and that is fine, we all have our role in life. The snuff film you call a past is the only reason people stay interested because you sure as shit don't have anything interesting to say. Just the same petty crap that every other woman says about me. What a useless whore you are.

But before I get too far off track, Mandii isn't the only useless piece of shit in this match. I am pretty sure Jessalyn Hart is in this match too. Did anyone even notice? You're welcome Jess. You sure showed how tough you are last week, winning a hardcore match. You proved you're toughness, but not so much your skill. Watching you meander around the ring like an extra on the Walking Dead wasn't becoming of you. Hell you taking a beating was the best thing you did. You did that like a champ. I didn't think you had it in ya, kiddo. Maybe dropping the whole Lane Bryant poster model with a bad attitude and becoming a truck stop waitress with a weekend mechanics job was the best decision you ever made. I respect you more now than I ever did before, because at least you know you're on the rise. You know you aren't where you need to be, but you are honest. You aren't deulsional like Mandii is. But Jessalyn my favorite part about watching you get that win through tough sledding last week was that now your confidence will be up. You finally got a win here, and you finally made an impact. You probably fingered yourself to completion that night too, didn't ya? That is, with your good hand. Staples in the cooch....eek.

Regardless, you are probably feeling pretty good about yourself. I love the fact that you won that match because now I can take that confidence you are feeling and crush it in a fell swoop. I can bring you back to the pedestal you know you're on, which is second tier. You and Mandii can be having matches to see who will lose to me again in my next Bombshell defense every week. Hell, it will give you something to do. Maybe that is your purpose in life, to be just good enough to lose to me. Hey, like I told Mandii, everyone has a role, you just needed to find yours. I respect you more now than I ever did before, because at least you know you're on the rise. You know you aren't where you need to be, but you are honest. You aren't deulsional like Mandii is. But Jessalyn my favorite part about watching you get that win through tough sledding last week was that now your confidence will be up. You finally got a win here, and you finally made an impact. You probably fingered yourself to completion that night too, didn't ya? That is, with your good hand. Staples in the cooch....eek.

Regardless, you are probably feeling pretty good about yourself. I love the fact that you won that match because now I can take that confidence you are feeling and crush it in a fell swoop. I can bring you back to the pedastal you know you're on, which is second tier. You and Mandii can be having matches to see who will lose to me again in my next Bombshell defense every week. Hell, it will give you something to do. Maybe that is your purpose in life, to be just good enough to lose to me. Hey, like I told Mandii, everyone has a role, you just needed to find yours. I'm glad you have. I know my role, too. Sure, this division is a mess. Who put it there? I did. I scared off or beat off--hehe--any and all competition who came my way. I ran through the Sugay Sisters, I beat Miss Michelle, I retired Mercy. You name them, I beat them. This division is a mess because I made it that way, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I have the will, the desire, to win this belt again and hoist it high in the air as you two sacks of shit twiddle your thumbs wondering where it is you went wrong.

I'll tell you where.

When you crossed me.

When you tried to fight.............

PERFECTION.

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