.......there was blood on the floor. Blood on the mirror, and the windows. Blood on the peeling wall paper, and on the moldings. Hair covered the floor around the chair like a barbershop. Piles and piles of hair rising like the Himalayas out of the blood soil that was soaking into the chipped tile. There were empty boxes of hair dye littered the floor, and glue bottles lay on the tables. The room was lit by a dingy fluorescent light, and had a musty look to it. Imagine a room shot in sepia.



There was faint music playing in the background.













It was on an old phonograph. The crackling between each word broke the silence, added personality to the otherwise silent room. The checkers on the tile were changing colors, and the pair of slides near the door were in the path of the red lava surging toward the only apparent exit. The door itself had old, chipping paint, and the peep hole was cloud-eyed like someone spilled milk on it and never cleaned it.



The sink in the room was covered in hair of all colors as well, and the surface was wet with water. Boxes of dye sat in the sink, the carboard exteriors soft from the dripping faucet. There was a TV on in the corner of the room, but the volume was off. Closed captions scrolled across the screen. Something about an active shooter, somewhere, a wife who murdered her husband in a creek, missing children, and the national budget. The news was always so negative. In word form, somehow, it seemed worse.



The mirror, despite the blood, was actually clean. Probably the cleanest thing in the room. Sitting in front of it, on an old kitchen chair, was Jenny Myst. On her lap was a completely hairless cat, and she ran a hand across its back as if petting its now non-existent fur. All of is hair? On the floor at her feet. A small table sat next to the chair, and her non-petting hand set down a fresh, bloody, electric razor. The cat on her lap was in rough shape, barely clinging to life if not already dead, and the way she was stroking it was as if to sooth the animal. She was a blank expression on her face. "Just like me...." she said, "now we can be friends."



A few moments pass and Jenny appears to become bored by her newly skinned friend. She tosses it casually on the floor as if it were a tee shirt after a busy day.....and like a pile of tee shirts, there was a pile. Not tee shirts or other assorted laundry, but a pile of hairless animals. Various kinds from as small as a rat to as large as a German Shepard. Many still had their domestication collars on. Some were ripped off. Some of the animals had their necks broken, some died from blood loss. There was a cage in the corner with a few more animals left. She turned her head towards the cage, and the animals began to freak out. They squawked, squeaked, meowed and barked. At the same time there was a knock at the door. It was almost inaudible over the sound of the petrified animals. The knocking became more frantic. Jenny sat, making eye contact with her next victim from behind the bars of the small cage. She grinned as the door opened.



"WHAT THE FUCK?!"



Ash had come in, and instantly began to gag. "Jen, jesus. No. No. No. No. Really?!"



Jenny turned her head towards her friend. "Do you want to be next?" There was gravel in her voice.



"Jen, no. No.....this isn't acceptable. I know you are upset about your hair but all of these innocent creatures! And the owners are surely going to be looking for them! This is crazy! Are you trying to go back to the funny farm?!"



Jenny launched out of her seat and shoved an arm across the chest of her best friend, pinning her against the wall.



Ash coughed as she hit the peeling wall, and tried to push back but Jenny's rage pushed her arm forward. Ash looked into her eyes, and she didn't recognize what stared back at her.



This wasn't her best friend. She wasn't even convinced that this was a human being.



"I...." she tried to get out between coughs, "I don't even think it looks that bad."



Who was she kidding? It looked horrific. Animal hair. Poor innocent animal fur glued to her head in a matted mess. Blood still dripped off of some of it, staining her face in spots.



"Do. Not. Fucking. Lie. To Me." Jenny growled, looking dead into the eyes of Ash Quinn. It was at the moment she knew Jenny was lost. She was truly unhinged.



"Okay....okay! Fuck..." she coughed again...."we will go....." cough "wig shopping...." cough "just let go of me!"



This seemed to pacify her, for the time being. She brought her forearm off the sternum of her friend. Ash grabbed at her throat and coughed.



"First, we need to clean this up and dispose of these bodies."



"How did you even find me?"



"Uhhh.....find my iPhone, duh."



"Cute."



"You were answering me, I was concerned. We have a match tomorrow night. I need to make sure we are on the same page."



Jenny snorted.



"Same page? SAME PAGE?! I am fucking bald, Ash!"



"I know....I shouldn't have.....I don't know what you want from me Jen!"



Jenny snort laughed again. She picked up the chair she had been sitting in and flung it at the pristine mirror, cracking it. Pieces of glass broke off and landed on the floor. She looked into it again, her image cracked and broken, just like her.



"What I want is for you to stay out of my fucking way. Get in there, do your job when called upon, and don't ask questions. I am going to hurt these two ladies, and hurt them badly. If you try to break it up, I'll hurt you, too."



Ash shook her head and sighed, but she understood.



"At least let me help you clean this mess up. Then we will go to the wig store, okay?" She bent down to pick up some of the hair, and gagged. The stench was overwhelming.



"What even is this place?"



"It used to be an old room for rent. The owner died, and his son didn't want it. He let it go to shit. I thought by the overgrown weeds out front you would have caught on that this place wasn't exactly operational."



"I was just concerned for your safety."



"Don't be."



Ash had stopped and bought garbage bags. She began to pick up clumps of skin and hair, gagging all the while. After some time passes, she speaks again.



"I'm worried about you, Jen."



Jenny looked at her friend and smiled. 



"Thank you, Ash. I am worried about me, too."



"Are you really?"



"Of course not."



They cleaned the rest of the day. Jenny sat in the car and watched as Ash dragged each overloaded trash bag to the dumpster. Each one left a wet trail behind it. When she finally got back in the car, she shut the door harder than normal. Looking over at Jenny she sighed. Jenny looked out the window, and didn't say a word. With a sigh, she looked forward again. On the dash was Jenny's phone......the dial pad was open.



727 area code.



Florida.



Next to it was (47). She had called this number 47 times today. Ash put the car in drive and as soon as her foot hit the gas the phone slid off, bounced off the console and hit the floormat. Jenny didn't move, but continued to look out the window.


Who the hell did she know from Florida?




As much as I hate him with everything in my soul, as much as I wish the worst death humanly imaginable on Robbie Bourbon, I have to thank him. I know, shocking right? 

As much as I hate him with everything in my soul, as much as I wish the worst death humanly imaginable on Robbie Bourbon, I have to thank him. I have to thank him for relieving me of that pressure week in and week out. I have to thank him for taking that burden off my shoulders. I have to thank him for allowing me to be free again.

When I came back I told you all that it wasn't about titles for me. It was about coming back and doing what I love, it was about therapy and healing, and it was about righting the wrongs in my life. I didn't come in and chase a title, I didn't call out a champion hell--I wasn't even close to thinking about any of that. I know how I am, and I know the demon that lives inside me. I know the evil witch and her evil desires. I know that once she comes back, any hope of me being me again will be lost forever. I didn't want to invite her to the party, I didn't want to even be at the same party. I had done a good job of keeping that cunt out of my life....until someone ruined all that.

Charlie Fucking Nickles.

Charlie chose me, I didn't choose him. I was his heir apparent, he wanted me to carry on the legacy that he built as Television Champion here. He could have chose anyone, but he picked me. He thrust me into the title picture and slowly but surely, she started to rear her ugly head. I began to become obsessed with that belt, it began to consume me. I wasn't me anyone. The only thing I thought about was that belt, and I began to lose focus on what truly matters to me.

That title has Charlie's stench on it.

Little did I know the utter failure Charlie would turn out to be. Little did I know that he would go on to squander opportunity after opportunity since picking me to carry on the belt. Little did I know the curse that he would put on me. Charlie will get what is coming to him, don't any of you worry. Warfare in a couple weeks, the Bastards will all get what is coming to them. The Bastards will finally be laid to rest.

This week, however, I can't let that affect me. I get to team up with my bestest friend to take on two other women in a Tornado Tag match. One, I have history with, the other I am not sure is even still employed here. Savannah Knightly likes to jump on twitter and flex her muscle, and but in on XWF discussions, but when it comes to in-ring action she has the resume of a newborn. She's been taking up space here longer than many of you realize, but after Saturday Night I have a hunch we won't be hearing from her much. The pain I plan on causing her is like nothing she has ever felt before. There is nothing more in this world that I want right now than to wipe that smug look off your face once and for all. Little miss cool. Have you even won a match? You're as much of a joke as Lexi Gold, except we all know the punchline. Lexi will get hers at Relentless. You will be lucky to make it to Relentless. I have always hated girls like you, Savannah. So pretentious, so fake. So much attention demanded but so little attention earned. You're a member of the Anarchy roster, and that is adorable and all, but every time I have been on that show I have torn it open and left it bleeding. Funny, because that is exactly the plan for you tomorrow night. I don't plan on you walking out of that building. Should I say sorry in advance?

You don't deserve an apology. But you best believe I am going to rip one from your throat you stupid whore.

You have slept your way to relevance here and I am going to take pride in being the one to take you out of it permanently.

Your little tag team partner this week, another nobody. A turd all the same, just a bit more polished than you. Another sheep in sheep's clothing, The Empress of Average, Geri Vayden. Geri has never been anything here without someone else to cushion her inevitable fall. When Geri joined Goat Boy and the Left Hand, it was the best career move she ever made because she finally had that crutch. She finally had that fall back. She finally had purpose. Sure, that purpose was being slave to a delusional douche who thought he was Satan, but it gave her something to do. Her return was lackluster, and she had no direction. I owned Geri Vayden until hoofman blew smoke up her ass and gave her life again. But where is he now? Off in some other company complaining his way to the top and fooling some other roster into believing he is more worth more than $3 dollars on the clearance rack at Spirit Halloween. You're all alone now, Ger bear. Your on an island all by yourself and soon that island will be where you die. You've never been able to swim without your water wings, and this water is well over your head.

Even standing on your tippiest of toes you can't reach the sandy bottom.

I hate you, Geri. I don't hate many people, surprisingly, but I hate you. The rivalry we had, the title you stole, the pain you caused me, that is all water under the bridge. I hate you because of who you are as a person. I hate you for how fake you are, and for the lies you tell. I am going to show the entire world that you being Shooting Star Champion was a total fluke. Your victory over me was tainted. Your entire existence is a fallacy. One look into those dead, monotone eyes, and I can see everything I need to know about you.

You're a guppy in a shark pond.

You know it, I know it, and it eats you. Pun intended. Ash and I are going to run through you and Savannah without breaking a sweat. Now that I have come back to reality, now that I am focused again, now that I have nothing holding me back......

.....I have nothing left to lose.

My friends, my hair, my ability to give a fuck about the well being of others....well, that's been gone for a while, to be fair. I took down Centurion, I climbed that mountain. I sent Garry packing. I beat Bobby. I have cemented myself as a Main Event caliber star here, and that is all I ever wanted. Fuck a title, that is a bonus. I have been on a crusade to prove myself, prove that I deserve to be taken seriously, and that began with me finding myself and stop living a lie like you Gerri. Stop being someone I wasn't. I also had to prove I wasn't a Savannah Knightly, a queef in the wind that has less clout than Tommy Wish making a pitch for a Uni shot. I think I have done both of those things, now the only thing left is to tie up the rest of the loose ends one by one. Tie them in a double knot, loop swoop and pull.



Courtesy of moi.

You're welcome, in advance.

Sincerely,