Ayla Book; Chapter 4: Begin Liberation

“One who sups with the devil needs a long spoon...”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Third sessions in therapy gather dread within my breast. Each time I suffer through re-visiting old traumas so we might restore what history has destroyed. A quest I thought completed the day I announced to my parents that I was officially moving into Cameron’s home. I proudly denounced ‘Dola’ as my surname and we, Cameron and I, forged a new family! We washed our hands of our ruined households. Lutece would name our new happiness, our future. My chosen career would be wrestling, to hell with my parents disapproval. The freedom on the ride home offered courage so foreign and strong. So why would opening old caskets locate cures to current dilemmas? A pointless endeavor.

Already, I yearn for the simplicity of the first visits. My name, and quick overviews of my file, so I could remain silent throughout. Speaking has become an exhausting exercise that is enforced with this new therapist. My condition will be treated like any mending injury: through considerate usage.

My eyes are shut because Doctor Malcolm has yet to start the session. My husband’s words repeat; my mantra lately: There is nothing wrong with my wife.

Why am I in this office? Emily Brown suggested therapy once again just to, as she phrased it: “Make sure all my ducks are still in order!” Her vigorous encouragement to visit this doctor instilled mild security. Did I come because others are worried? Cameron assured me that I do not have to continue treatment if I find it unnecessary. I do. Yet I am here to satisfy my own curiosity about the state of my ‘condition’. Perhaps, during this short stent, he might be able to tell me why my words escaped me again.

This space is larger than Emily’s was. No warmth from the walls lined with books and abstract art. There are little furniture pieces, only his desk, a couple of chairs and a wooden coffee table set with a singular box of tissue. A spacious area filters in the cold from the outside, and a noisy heater does little to alleviate. Goosebumps spread across my back as the temperature shifts into something warmer. His leather seat creaks low when he sits down. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel his overwhelming presence.

Much of it comes from his gaze. He is not a threatening person but his eyes are dark and, in a way, piercing. When he looks at me, it feels more like he isn’t looking at me, but into me… maybe even past me. Somehow even his reassuring smile, genuine as far as I can see, does nothing to mitigate this.

“You were referred to me by Miss Brown, yes? Charming woman. She was right to do so; I think I can be of great help to you.”

My throat restricts sound while I hone my eyes just beyond him to a massive stained glass window. Swirls of dark colors sprinkle across the room in a dreamy hum. “Y..yes…” This won’t be enough. I wish his eyes would be removed from me. My body shifts on the leather seat announcing my discomfort. “W-whe...where a-are we… starting?”

“Where indeed,” he muses, sitting back as the leather chair creaks beneath him. “Shall we start with your childhood?”

It was an attempt to be amusing. Not a very good one. Perhaps he should have thrown on a faux German accent? My eyes track back over him and I feel the corner of my lips twitch into an attempted smile. What expression is aimed in his direction? If unsettling he gives no indication. His expression does not reflect anything more than his usual mild smile.

“N...N-nothing more to say on t-that…” I fold my legs again. “Y-you.. Read my file, didn’t you?”

I’m curious.

“I did. I even spoke to Ms. Brown. She mentioned you in glowing terms.”

So he had prodded that far into the past, then? How much further than that did he dig? And did he have to keep that piercing stare pointed my way? It was almost as bad as the ‘fake’ smiles back in school, the false apologies. Those, at least, offered an illusion of solace for a time. But this Dr. Malcolm… he did not even try to hide it. Whatever had begun to wrap around us.

“Glowing…” I couldn’t remove the mild venom beneath my words. I gripped the hem of my coat firmly before smoothing out the fabric over my knees. It was still cold. There was a shift again, the seat announcing Doctor Malcolm moving. He is moving somewhere behind me and, I can only assume, to his desk. What is he doing? The lights shut off shrouding the office.

“We’re going to try something, Tara. Hypnosis. I don’t see anywhere in your files where previous doctors have attempted such, so it will be a new experience for you. Hopefully a helpful one.”

He walks back around to his chair, the room mostly dim at this point, and takes a seat. He reaches into his pocket and, for a moment, I imagine him producing a pocket watch or some swirling disk for me to stare at. But instead, he retrieves a stick of gum, offering a piece for me.

“Hypnosis?” My voice is a meek whisper. I accept the gum hesitantly. How is he going to ‘put me under’? Gum… It was the first thing I ever purchased by myself. A milestone that Emily had rejoiced from.

“That’s right. Now, make yourself comfortable, Tara. When you are ready, close your eyes and I will begin the process.”

Hypnosis only works on those who desire to fall prey to it. My eyes shut regardless. What was the point of this exercise? I release a slow exhale fumbling with the wrapper of the gum. I can feel him gently take it from my fingers, putting it aside.

“No distractions.”

He says quietly but firmly. When he sees that I have calmed, at least as far as I can manage anyway, he starts to speak.

“Focus on the sound of my voice, Tara. Starting at your toes, relax your body one part at a time. Work your way up. Save your mind for last.”

This reminds me of meditation. How I am now visualizing every sector of my body lulling into slumber. Lights being switched off so everything might be dark. My shoulders droop and I allow both hands to fall to the sides. My mind? How do I relax that swirling vortex? Think of an empty room, like a cell, I suppose… I wait for his instructions while I inhale deeper breaths.

“The rest of the world will melt away. It will just be you, me and your thoughts. Feel the comfort, the peace, of solitude… You’re going to lead us to wherever you wish to go first...”

His tone definitely takes on a soothing tilt. Almost dreamlike? Maybe. It makes sinking into a calmer state a little… easier. I can only hear my own breathing. No more of the leather seats, of the air conditioner, and yet I sense no danger… I wait for his voice again. My body has washed away while I feel a strange tingling sensation...

“Tara… Tell me about Jenny Hinder…”

His voice is so far away now and I know he said something else. His words are dissolving. Jenny? Why did he want to know about Jenny? My file must have explained what I did to her arm. It had been dislocated during basketball practice. I knocked her against the gym’s unforgiving floor. Even now I can see that vivid expression of agony spreading across her visuals.

A grip squeezes my shoulders so roughly I wheeze from the abrupt pressure. The office is still dim with shadows prancing just out of my eye sight. My body refuses to move and my breath is visible. How cold is it? Is my body trembling? The only thing responding are my eyes but in front of me is Jesse Fontaine. He is leaning forward with his hands in a prayer.

“I used to be a lot like you, Tara. So angry that I swore it was going to consume me completely. It felt good to hurt people… It felt really good. That relief you might feel won’t last. I promise you all those ‘good feelings’ won’t stay as long as you think. Violence won’t erase all that pain you’ve been bottling up. It’s a terrible substitute. You can still win matches without having to injure your opponents. Once you accept all the pain you’ve inflicted, that guilt might eat you alive. Doesn’t have to be like that.”

Jesse’s eyes shimmer as he inches closer. “You don’t have to do this anymore. If you let all of that go then you can take your children to your matches, and there doesn’t have to be shame with victories. Don’t you remember how freeing competition felt when you weren’t ripping people apart? It’s going to be okay, Tara. You're Not alone… There isn’t anything wrong with you. You just need to—”

Pain. Fingers smooth across my windpipe while I inhale a shaky breath. Where did Doctor Malchom go? I don’t understand how Remi’s husband got inside of this office. That’s impossible. He was in the States, or he was supposed to be. Heat radiates from a hand clutching around my throat. Each finger carefully pressing down into my skin. Humid breath ripples down against my ear sounded by a somber voice...

“Annihilation is how conquering reaches Heaven. Allow me to begin your tutelage, my dear daughter…”

Leon… My eyes drift to the high section of the stained glass image of birds flying. They drip with golds, with reds, and I feel exhilarated. They illuminate the room in such vivid colors, I gasp. He is gripping so tight— !

“Reach Heaven Through Violence..?” My voice isn’t restricted by his hand. Alarm beating from my aching, oxygen deprived lungs stiffing through my feet. My heels scrape against the wooden floor boards. Where did Doctor Malcolm go?

“No.” His menacing growl silences me. “Do not permit them to grovel, or squirm away. To achieve ultimate triumph there must be nothing left. Do you understand? Do you see..?”

One of my hands is cradled within Leon’s, together they are dripping with black substance as a massive pulses with life in the very center of my palm. His thumb rubs along the tips of my fingers. Higher our hands raise, summoning gravity to drip blood down the length of my arm. Each drop leaves my elbow to speckle my pink coat. He begins to close my hand around the massive. Apprehension screams from the organ; I know what it is now. A heart.

“I will not fail you again, Tara… Return them to the soil. Purge unworthy and worthy from Pro Wrestling Excellence. Leave no one.”




There are dark rings forming under both my eyes in my reflection on the car’s tinted window, and a gust of wind strikes me. Both of my arms swiftly coil around my midsection. Fresh air rushes past my lips to freeze my inflamed throat.

“We can find you another therapist.” Cameron?

I peer around as the world adjusts back into proper placement. People cross the streets in quiet chatter. Behind us the office looms in ivory glory. When did I leave? When did Doctor Malcholm finish the session? Is this what he expected? I don’t understand what he wanted from me!

“N-no… I’m just tired…” I mumble reaching up to check my throat. It’s tender to the touch. My door opens up with the assistance of my husband. Our eyes meet— concern is deeply etched into his gaze. My dearest husband has questions...Oh, I wish he had come alone so I might curl up in the back seat. His brows furrow, but before he has a chance to speak again—

“Mommy!” Orson is bending over the center console. “Mommy! Can we sing again?”

My son is oblivious. Not so much that he doesn’t grasp how valuable my voice has become. He has not heard it for nearly a year. Odette and he never fully accepted my mute habits. Always begging for a story, or for a song. For the last year, they’ve had to substitute my voice with Cameron’s beautiful butterfly words. “Sing, sing, sing! I want a lullabye!” Odette commands from the backseat where Sylas is babbling.

I climb into the warmth of the car watching my hand, clean, touch Orson’s cheek. He shivers and wraps both tiny hands around my own. Orson complains of how cold my hands are. I’m icey… I’m exhausted…

“M...m— maybe.”

“There is a certain beauty in setting the world on fire and watching from the center of the flames."

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

A great gust of wind whips up, striking the camera with abrupt noise! Tara Ayla is shrouded in a black translucent veil that covers her entire form. Around her is darkness and the only source of light lingers just below her feet. The lens does not move as she holds that signature audio diary. That unyielding stare aims down into whatever pit is in front of her. She presses the play button to greet us with that robotic voice.

[  It begins. ]

“I've always felt as if I am standing upon a precipice awaiting the opportunity to jump.”

Tara crouches down staring into the void still hidden just out of sight. She cradles the device against her chest like a swaddled infant.

“My feet lingered on the very edge, toes might dangle, but something always forced me backward, far away from it. The choice to avert paths has always been my own. Unapologetically trading a steep drop to life far from the cliffside. Yet the siren call was too grand this time. For beneath lies eternal treasures groomed for greedy hands to seize. Glittering gold all stained with a battle earned substance mixtures from historical events: blood, sweat and tears. Some believe there has to be a climb where hands build callous, but my view differs. Glory always has lied below us gathering inside a pit where only worthy might endure and conquer. Yes, once one snatches prizes from inky darkness may they begin the ascend upward. Crafting their own idealistic pedestals to rest upon.

I see no mountains, no, it has always been the depths drowning most and molding a few. When we cast a glance skyward there are differing pedestals for those below to salivate, while they tear them down. Once you dismantle the old Champion, reconstruction is essential to begin one’s reign. Never stand upon another’s old pedestal… Why would one ever build a throne that was not their own?”

Tara sits down swinging both legs over the edge. They sway rather childishly in glee that, even though it is obscured, is evident. One hand clutches the Audio Dairy while the other grips the slick edge. Will she drop down?

“Now there is nothing to stop the plunge. My descent... I welcome the sensation of emptiness, at first, the giddiness that will build within my stomach, and the abrupt landing that greets me. Skeletons mark the pathways in criss-crossing warnings. Do not take entering into the pits lightly, or as a method to find yourself. These battles are for those who know which treasure will be achieved by their hands. I’ve located my target and I will not leave from these depths until it has been claimed. The chance to dethrone Zoey Madigan-Star is where my chosen path will lead. My opponents may join the resting skeletons... It is time to show them why I have come to Pro Wrestling Excellence…”

The vacuum of wind stops so abruptly that it takes mere seconds for Tara’s clothing to cease all movement. She stands stoic; walking along the very edge and away.

“The message was unclear. Reasons all collapsed into silent hushes while I bathed in violence’s tender waters. Now reemergence commences abandoning all chains inside of the tainted streams. There is no longer pause to restrain myself behind simple acts of violence. With some guidance, I now acknowledge my mistake. In my merriment there was a directionless frenzy of which I found brittle contentment. No longer will that ever sustain me; the lies now be silenced.

“Satisfaction comes with precisely striking so those who fall will remember. Scorching in tales that will never be forgotten, legacies to be retold. I’ve decided to not drag any corpses behind me into the grand dining hall where my true feast will begin. Instead they will rot outside of those doors; decaying in their own absentmindness while Irrelevancy feeds.”

A distant scoff echoes across the vastness. Tara continues to circle while staring down inside of the opening.

“I have defeated two of these opponents already. They’ve proven they were not prepared to drop down into the darkness; Chelsea, William, it is time for you to be returned to the lush green above. I will send you there with my own hands again. This time I believe it is your best interest to seek heed. This is no place for you two… Do not worry, I will send another failure right on your heels. Rest in comfort while you squander what is left... La Andalucera — I have another loss for you to sail. I desired more from you... Such a disappointment. A waste of possible potential. Just like the others… I was correct; you will be vanquished by the bright lights searing your skin. Acid Beth has been the only one with a win under her belt from the cluster of opponents staggering into this battle. Relishing in her silence had been an unbelievable joy for me. Not one single whisper.”

Now quiet giggles come from the wandering woman. A gentle skip in her step to offset the eerie appearance.

“In fact, most have been utterly silent in which my peace flourishes. A calm lulls me into a clear mind. Do you hear it? Beautiful; we weep.”

“Yet one has committed a carnal sin; mentioning Damian where he will not battle. The Fantasma spoke of my husband’s love for me as if it held any barbs. You are not facing him, you are facing me. I will make you suffer for that frivolous slander. There is no leniency when it comes to disrespecting our Excellence Champion; there is no mercy when disrespect is laid at my husband’s feet. Inconsequential little Fantasma… Allow me to reunite you with your grave. It has missed you so. Let only a trickling of your memory be your only legacy here for there is nothing left. We must cull the weak. You’ve only proven you are not ready.

The culling will continue with William and Chelsea. Oh, they will perish beneath their own naivety and loss of self. Nothing more will come from them other than what has been previously provided to us. Failures restrict their throats, so this match will be a merciful end. Do not deny it anymore because courage lends more to insanity than to strength. Repeat those failed mantras in the mirror but listen to the truth: You Can Not Do This.

Mother Beth; I do not wish to fall into your acid pools of soothing savagery. Another time perhaps I might indulge splendors. Now you must meet the inky darkness as the others. Hope… Hope you might claw yourself up from the muck to begin brawling for a selected target. For now I must snap awake from whatever trip you might achieve. Reality is not so forgiving and I will remind you of this fact.”

She has returned to the center of the camera lens. Head facing towards the east now. Something pulling her attention away.

“None of you have proven anything more than trivial entertainment for Pro Wrestling Excellence’s audience. They cheer for your downfalls, they roar for your bloodshed, and I will deliver.”

Tara allows the audio dairy to slip from her hands where it tumbles down into the bright light of the pit. She seemingly vanishes…. Leaving only eerie silence… 

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“Tara!”

Disbelief ripped the sidewalk apart, spraying debris across the road. The fresh butcher meat is safely tucked in bags along with everything needed to create a scrumptious meal. My family deserves it so I do not have time to turn around. My chin tucks down in a futile effort to avoid furthering the conversation with that familiar voice. Sprinting at a high rate of speed would only draw attention. Simply speeding up is all I need to do to ignore the high pitched shrills of a woman.

A hand nearly yanks me off balance. “Tara… My god, Tara.”

Amelia Dola has an unwelcomed grip on the collar of my jacket. “Look at you… Look at you… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us? I don’t understand why you never said anything to us.”

I strain to gently remove her hand so we can gain some distance by taking a few steps backwards. How the hell did she find me in Canada? I erased myself from being easily tracked by this pitiful excuse for a parental figure. Amelia is adorned in her best Mother Costume, one of her favorite parlor tricks for the outside world to adore. I feel repulsion. Whatever she says washes into a boiling pot inside my stomach. Her mouth continues to move but even as I strain I can’t block out everything—

“...My grandchildren… You didn’t have to go through that alone. I couldn’t believe when—”

“My children!” My outburst summons a flash of venom. My throat hurts.

“You hid them from us. That isn’t like you.” Amelia reaches for me and doesn’t stop when I recoil. “We deserve to see our grandchildren, Tara Marie.”

“No!” My hands shove against her chest sending her spiraling towards the shop’s brick wall. That counterfeit parental concern has run its course already.

I’ve broken her mask straight in two because of her serpent eyes return. My mother has transmogrified back into herself. “Did Cameron Kaiser do something to convince you to cut us off? Is that why you are acting like this? I knew you were too young to be moving into a man’s house that you barely knew! Look what he did to you! You changed your name, you ran away from your family, and we didn’t even know if you were alive! That abusive piece of shit—”

“Shut up!” I scream!

My hand slaps across her cheek sending Amelia’s head sideways. Both fists bunch up the front of her jacket so I can bash that woman back against the wall. Amelia crumbles to the ground holding the back of her head with a whimper.

“You k-keep his name out of your mouth! I-I owe you nothing! Nothing, you hear me!? Cameron didn’t d-do anything to convince me to hate you! You… You did that! Go back to your home! Leave us be!” I twist on my heels to abandon the woman on the sidewalk.

It was her. It was her! With her threats and her savage hands tearing me apart. She’ll never accept the blame but I know. They might always look to Cameron for my antagonism but it was bred into me by my parents! Took a few years for their immutable ways to chip away at what innocence I failed to cling to. Neither Amelia nor Markus did anything save me… They simply provide the world with knives.

“What… is happening to you!?” Amelia is crying. “Tara!”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Tara stands clutching another device betwixt her hands. The light is now behind her casting bizarre, dancing shadows through mysterious scenery. Where she is, is quiet and solidary. The pit remains in front of her, like a summoning palace. Audio spills out loud enough to not be overtaken by the sound of swirling winds. 

“In front of my eyes lies a glittering pedestal… Do you see it? Do you see the evening sky spreading a blanket across with smoke and mirrors creating mystical patterns? That is where I will travel next. Where rot begins its glorious consumption of the next challenge. To dismantle that pedestal before new construction begins. I am getting ahead of myself, for this graveyard requires my attention first.”

“My eyes were covered but I’ve removed the blindfold. First, the Impulse Championship, next…? We shall see. I have plans for that. Directionless might’ve been a preferable state for my opponents here. Where I was merely indulging myself. With focus… I am curious how swiftly they will fall. My name sake was not given lightly; it was branded into my skin while I bathed in the blood and pain of my opponents. They gave me a proper warning label which, admittedly, gives birth to childish pride. Pro Wrestling Excellence has seen glimpses beneath my veil… Little hints at what rests under my ‘human suit’. I’m delighted for what comes next.”

“Have you prepared for your end? Do not fret. It’ll be glorious. The pit provides all we shall ever need. Relish in inky darkness as the void cleanses those who are born to endure. The privileged will wither away leaving behind ash taken back up into the brightly lit skies. Fluff will greet the unworthy so kind, false words, might provide comfort. Find peace in ordinariness.”

“I’ve grown bored of simply wading through enjoyment of misery for it has not done what I desire. It is time to burn the shores. It is time to take my proper place. None of you are GODS… but I was the slayer long before. Do not flee, for it is far too late to escape where we have all fallen.”

Tara’s piercing gaze cannot be hidden behind that veil. It does nothing to lessen the intensity. A flash of teeth can be seen either in a snarl, or a wide smile.

“These are not wasteful words… I’d never commit such a sin... All prophecies now come to fruition… Pro Wrestling Excellence will be our, the Ayla’s, latest feast where my beloved has already set the table. The newest of my passion projects. My first steps through the hellish pits of which I have waited so long to transverse… It begins and I cannot help but feel elation.”

She releases the audio diary so it clatters to the edge of the black soil. Both hands grab at the front of the view shedding it off. The wind catches hold of the fabric letting it sail high. Tara raises both hands with a widening grin. Her body tips forward vanishing completely.

“The Eradication Will Commence…”

[ Footage cuts. ]