I'm laying in bed and feeling miserable, my stomach hurts, my eye is swollen, and I'm pretty sure I'm sober. George is sitting next to me, he's not talking, or watching telly. I don't think he knows I'm awake. There's silence, and I can feel George's anger at me. He doesn't have to say anything to me, I can tell. I don't want him mad at me, I want him to love me again. His mobile rings, and he answers it. I guess he doesn't care if he wakes me up.

Hey, Tiff.

No, she's still asleep.


I don't know.

Why is she such a fucking wreck? You've gotta have some idea.

Nah, I'm waiting for her to wake up. I need to talk to her, I need my sister back.

All right. Bye, babe.


He hangs his phone up and I hear a sigh. Without thinking, I turn over and hug him so very tightly. Tears are falling down my face, and I want to form words, but I can't. He's stroking my back, this makes me panic. I don't want to panic. I scream and pull back.

OMIGOD! LEMME GO!! LEMME GO!

George is confused, I see it in his face, but I'm pulling back towards the wall. I haven't looked around the room yet, but I survey it as I look around hoping I don't see Mike. The room is white, and empty except for a picture of roses on the wall. I guess this is supposed to make me feel better about being here. I still don't know where I am. Mike isn't here, I'm safe. Deep breaths, Ginger. Deep breaths. George has a frightened look on his face.

I'm sorry, George.

What the fuck, Ginger?

He's never sworn at me before. I don't like this. I need him more than ever.

Mike stroked my back like that before he attacked me. I'm sorry.

George's hand goes to his temple and begins to rub it.

No. I mean what the fuck were you doing drinking like that, and in fucking Warminster?

I went to see Johnny's parents. There's something you don't know, George.

He loudly sighs.

I know that Johnny broke up with you and hurt you, but going to his parents isn't going to make him come back to you. He's just going to think you're insane and obsessed.

These words hurt. He doesn't know why I went to Johnny's parents, and how we sat around and watched home movies of him, and cried. He doesn't know that Johnny's mum gave me her engagement ring, because it was what Johnny wanted. He doesn't know that I sat in their backyard, and played with their dog named Chuck, because that was what Johnny wanted to name his son. He doesn't know how a huge part of me died in Africa as I watched Johnny die. He also doesn't know that Tush and Maverick are both some useless dudes who don't belong in a wrestling ring.

There's a knock on the door, and I ignore it. George ignores it. He's looking at me like there's something wrong with me. He's forgetting that I was beaten on the train, and almost raped. Or raped. I'm not sure. What I do know is I have to tell him something. I need to tell him about why Johnny isn't coming back. Maybe he'll understand.

Johnny isn't coming back, George.

Why not? I liked him. Did you do something?

In Africa, something happened. And Johnny won't be back.

The door bursts open and it's Tiffany. She's crying and holding a bag in her arms. She throws the bag at George and hugs me tightly, getting her tears and snot in my hair. I embrace her tightly, and she starts to move her hand to rub my back. I catch it before she starts, though.

Please don't rub my back like that.

Huh? Why not? You love when I rub your back.

I can't see, but I hear George heave the bag off, and I feel it land on my bed. This bed is not comfortable.

Mike did that before he attacked her.

Tiffany lets go of me and looks at me, she's been crying a lot. Her eye looks almost as puffy as I'm sure mine does. I chuckle, and stroke her cheek. My Tiffany, my beautiful sister. She'd always been my sister, but now a ring makes it official. I wish I could have attended the wedding, but I probably would have hated it at the time. She loves me, and understands my pain. I want to tell her all about Johnny, I really do.

How do you feel, doll?

I'm sore all over, I can barely see out of my left eye, and I think I'm gonna be sick. But, I'm also confused. Did he...

She cuts me off, Tiffany knows what I'm thinking, and my fears.

NO! He didn't. Don't you remember anything?

I try and think hard. It hurts. I'm scared. I can remember him beating me, and screaming at me. I remember him throwing Vodka at me, and I remember my belt being undone, and the kicking. The fear of it. I knew he would rape me, I knew he would do all of the things he threatened to. The shoe. I remember the rubber sole, I remember the darkness. And then I remember waking up. Nothing in between.

No. I don't.

I lie. It's too painful to explain it. Tiffany lowers her head back into me and hugs me tightly. If I ever needed a person to make me feel loved, it's Tiffany.

So, this creepy American is saying that you led him on and were asking for sex. You fought him off, girl. They said when they came to get you he was bleeding from his eye, and he was angry. Well, after they heard your screaming, they came to get him, a group of men, and they all attacked him to save you. Then they stopped the train and brought you here. One of the guys who rescued you, he said he made sure to break a few ribs.

I feel happy, people came to help me. I don't know these people, but they helped me. Wait. Where am I?

Where are we? And how did you guys know where to find me?

They used your information from when you bought your ticket. You're famous, Ginge, it isn't hard to find information on you.

Oh, that makes some sense. I still don't know where we are, though.

We're in Manchester, Sis. You wanted to show me the sites of England, and now here I am.

I did want to show him these sites, but not like this. I have a breakdown, and start to cry uncontrollably. I can't help it, I'm

I'm so sorry, guys. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have been such a drunken mess. I need to get my life together, sober up, and try to work on being better. Work on being the Ginger I was. It's just going to be hard, since I don't have Johnny, and I feel like I lost a large part of me with him. I wish I could have been a lot better than this. I wish I wasn't a weak girl afraid to face the world sober. But, no more. I'm going to try and get sober, I promise.

I wish you could just tell us why you're drinking so much, and so angry. What happened between you and Johnny?

I can't. Not now, but I promise, when I feel like I can talk about it. I will. I want to tell you, but it's just to hard to talk about it now.

There's a knock at the door. Before I can answer, the knob turns, and a black man walks into the room. He's tall, and has a shaved head, and is in a nice grey suit with a pink shirt under the jacket. I don't know who he is.

Hello, Ginger. I'm Eric. I wanted to check to see how you're doing?

I'm confused. Who is Eric? And why does he care?

I guess I'm ok. I probably could use a shower, though. Can I ask who you are, though?

Eric chuckles, and walks into the room more. He is really cute.

Oh, you don't know. I'm sorry. I'm Eric, one of the men who helped rescue you. I stayed behind to make sure you were ok. Don't worry, about the shower, though. You still look good.

I blush, but then I decide I need a nap.

Well, thank you, Eric. I need a nap, though guys. We can pick this up later.

Eric, and George both start to leave the room.

I'ma stay with her. In case she needs something.

Everyone is gone from the room, leaving just Tiffany and I in the room. I curl up and fall asleep, while Tiff moves to the chair by my bed and starts reading a book.



Tush, I think you misunderstand my question. I don't want to know what kind of person you think are, because you're not the person you claim you are. I want to know what country your name is from. What culture. I don't care that you think you're some super impressive villain by saying that you rape mothers or something. I care about what country your name is from. It's not a name I know too well. But, if you need to tell us these made up stories in order to compensate for the fact that you're pretty much still a carrot. Actually, I'm sorry, that's an insult to Carrots. Carrots are actually good at things, they provide deliciousness and nutrition to people. You just provide reasons for people to ignore the XWF. Tush is the best thing on the microphone, and the best technical wrestler in the XWF? But he lost to Christopher Isles, and he lost to some random guy named Billy. That's on top of his loss to Peter Gilmour. This doesn't make sense to me. Maybe it does to Tush's mom, who is probably the only person to tell Tush he's the best. Tush always wins, though. Right? Just not when he loses to Billy, or to Christopher Isles. Those losses don't count. Let's only remember the one time that Tush did manage to beat Christopher Isles. That is how Tush always wins.

You don't want to be on my level, Tush? But, I'm actually a champion, and you're just some wormy little guy playing with dolls and little boys, wishing he was a champion. You wish you were Ginger. You wish you had the run Ginger had. You talk about how you don't hate me? Fine, but that's a silly thing to say. It's also odd to say that I'm what you don't care about, after you've made an attempt to mock me for being nice and sweet most of the time. You want me to believe you? Ok, I believe you. I'm not a gimmick or a parody, I'm just not as happy as I was before. I'm less happy, and therefore not as nice. It's not a parody, and it's nothing you could have possibly done. Since I've been less friendly for a while, as shown in a few of my promos before. Hey, good on you for finding a weak talking point, and running with it to test those new legs you got. Too bad you ran face first into a wall, and slammed that argument right into your stupid kid touching face.

I didn't want the titles that I got, except the Federweight. But, that doesn't mean that me holding them doesn't make me your superior. Do you want to repeat this cluster mess of a sentence?

Quote:You could’ve beaten anything in that case and yet you are mouthing off to me about me wanting to be you so desperately because as I’ve said previously, I don’t want to be you because I’m not a fucking pathetic beanhead cocksausage.

Even I know that doesn't make sense. Did you mean to say that since I didn't want to win the belt, I could have beaten anyone else and my point would have still stood? And that I'm mouthing off to you about wishing you was me because at least then you'd be taken seriously? And you had said that you don't want to be me, because I'm that insult you think makes sense, but only makes it sound like you're just throwing words together and hoping they form a semi coherent insult that makes people believe you're awesome. You're really not that awesome, or impressive. I'm barely even taking you seriously.

Here's my question to you, how do you expect us to believe that you don't take Vincent serious when he beat Doctor D'Ville, who left you in that chair. What I'm saying, since I know you're not able to understand basic sentences, is that Vincent could do what you'd never been able to do. Even Alexis Riot was able to beat Doctor D'Ville, but the best you could hope for in a situation with him is to not be a complete and utter disgrace when you see him again. You're right, though. I didn't beat Vincent for the Universal Title, but he needed help to beat me, a lot more help than you claim I had, and again I earned the right to go for the highest title in the company, while you're struggling to get attention from anyone in the federation. This is why you make the ridiculous claims of killing pigeons and assaulting prostitutes, because you think that impresses anyone. It doesn't even impress the 14 year old fans at home. Because it's straight out of Grand Theft Auto. They realise you're referring to a video game at this point. Why am I in the federation? Because it pays me money, which I use to take care of my brother. And because my brother, who is wheelchair bound, likes to watch me compete. He likes to be able to say his sister is a wrestler. He loved it when we'd go to see the wrestling shows with our dad as kids. Good way to criticise my joke when you constantly rehash the same tired gay jokes and scrabble box of insults at everyone. Or the comments slash threats of shoving things in people's arses. Good job on being unique and interesting.

Hey, you can say a big word you found on the internet, or something. It makes people think you're more smart than you are, and more impressive. Because they forget that you're seriously the person who would tell people that he sniffs cat food for Jesus, and would tell people to sniff cat food as if it was an insult. I didn't say you lost your title to Peter, I just said you lost to Peter and wish to put him down. You're wanting to belittle the person who beat you and actually supposedly killed you. But, really, you just pretended to be dead to see who would miss you. No one missed you. Peter's a fat son of a naughty word, who beat you bad. And you had Barney Green on your team, but it was you who took the pin. Not Barney. You were pinned by Peter. Why do you keep using these ridiculously bad insults that sound like you just grabbed random words from the dictionary and pieced them together?

Yes, I did not want the titles, but the fact that they matter to people and mean that I am a champion, and thus higher on the ladder than you are, means they're a pretty good measuring stick. It's not a contradiction, it's using the measuring system set up by the federation to remind you that you're still not on my level. You always win, but you admit a loss to Christopher Isles, and Peter Gilmour. Those sound like you're not always winning. And you say I contradict myself a lot. Heh. People pray and talk to God, yeah, but you're actually having a conversation with him. You're pretending he's talking back to you, which is exactly what David Pryce does. People don't take me seriously, and yet, I've been way more successful than you, and people are actually wanting to fight me. Because I matter. Nice logic, kiddo. I did tell you that being paralysed would be the only way someone would touch you, and you know what I meant, but in your mind it seemed like a good idea to say, "Nuh uh, people punch me in the face. That means they touch me!" Because either you have the mind of a child, or you're just grasping for ways to prove you're right when it's obvious you're a special type of stupid.

Did I say I wanted the child to be in the sweat shop? I questioned how you escaped from the situation, and why you needed someone to read something to you that's already recorded. I questioned why you're hanging out with kids, because as I already said, it's odd. You must really love kids, huh? You creepy special education fake lizard, you.

<3 Gator <3