Fuck.

A pair of crutches clank down an empty hallway of Coreytopia. Dolly Waters remembered something she forgot back in the common room while watching the Denzel Porter Invitational. Her cellphone. And what was a young woman in this day and age without her window to the world?

Dolly, dressed in her uninspiring black garments, all but for the giant white cast on one leg anyway, swings her arms and the crutches to her left. She turns her body and heads back down the hallway, towards the unnecessarily large stair case she just struggled up moments prior.

She was exhausted, and her droopy face told the story well. Her biceps and triceps were looking positively ripped from all extra exertion they’d endured since Dolly tore her ACL at Relentless. Other than that, there didn’t appear to be many redeeming features on the former 3x XWF Star Of The Month.

The giant gash on her forehead had finally scarred over, leaving a fleshy pink stretch across her pale skin, not so fetching. Living the life of a commune dweller didn’t require much hygiene to fit in with the crowd. So since she’s been back here full time after recusing herself as Vinnie Lane’s Anarchy Commissioner, let’s just say Dolly hasn’t felt the need to stay well bathed. But most of all, she just looks tired.

She is tired.

Tired of the crutches. The clanking sound makes her sick.

Tired of the cast. It’s awkward and always in the way. Plus her leg itches like hell.

Tired of people trying to help her. Tired of people feeling sorry for her.

Tired of the thought. Where did I go so wrong?