“Extreme acts of cruelty require a high level of empathy. The next time you have an instinct to help someone, you might consider crushing them instead. It might save you a great deal of trouble”
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At first it was adhesive… The kind that would leave the skin beneath red, and itchy with tiny bubbles of irritation. Given some time the skin would burst oozing out clear liquid. They’d apply tape then peel, apologizing with painted on smiles. Encouraging words created off delicate butterfly wings about the impressive job I was doing. The tests blended from needles to human tunes. Screaming resulted in large time consumption, tears in hugs from strangers. Only after the nurses would coo congratulations...
That enthusiasm was never shared with mother in the car screaming of unfair circumstances! Inconveniences slicing the fragile ribbon world she meticulously created. She’d hold grimaces in the rear view mirror in order to strangle me with coils of thorn riddled words and seething expressions. This was the preferable method compared to the actual hands on either bicep squeezing so tightly her fingers would bruise my arms. Her hands could easily snap each off like dolls.
Spittle sporadically sprinkling across my face marred with, “Wipe that fucking smile off your face! Why are you doing this to me?! Is it to hurt me?! Speak, damn it!”
Speak?
‘Oh, Ms. Dola. . . I need you to answer the question.’
‘Say something, fucking mute!’
‘So creepy...’
‘Verbally answer please…’
‘You think this is funny don’t you?’
“Why are you doing this to me?!”
I didn’t bolt upright though both fists had captured sheets alike. Each hand released exposing how sore the flesh now was. Nightmares weren’t uncommon, but they fell beneath childish imagery. Large monsters chasing me through never-ending hallways. Not these nightmares that created inquiry on which life was happening currently. Was I safe within the manor crafted with love, or trapped within clinical white walls, frozen with gnashing disappointment?
I escaped from the bedding that had twisted me up in a cold-sweat cocoon in order to locate everyone. Wasn’t difficult with the noises that echoed through each hallway like fireflies taking flight. I had mapped out the creaky floorboards so I could travel home without warning. A game created when playing Hide-n-Seek with our kids. They had yet to beat me. This granted a peek into the massive kitchen where the twins were twisted around Cameron’s legs begging for games! Their plates of food are still set on the table, half-eaten. Our youngest was stationed in his high chair filling his pleasantly chubby cheeks with halved grapes. Sylas’s silence is so similar to my own. Ravenous eyes ingesting the world around to filter the importance of his surroundings. My worrisome dread chews at my core; I'd hate words to disown him as they had me.
“Finish eating.” Cameron’s rich tones always inspired blooms of happiness; the nightmares never took place.
Lucky am I for his graced love, and with our children’s constant chatter. They craved conversation like oxygen. Even now they tugged at his jeans in an attempt to persuade him to ignore their usual schedules in favor of play. Adventuring had taken priority over consummation of substance to fuel such activities. My fingers pressed into the wood minding the smooth surface while they tracked down the length. If I could consume the very sight of Cameron for substance then I might be truly fulfilled.
I lingered too long.
His head turned so our eyes could connect in fluent conversation. My hands are moving before my mouth could muster courage to open: G o o d m o r n i n g. I sign to him and am rewarded a smile.
“Momma!” Odette was first to migrate off of Cameron’s leg.
“Can we go outside? It’s raining!” Orson followed.
Their babble enriched the environment creating green vines to coil around my legs and blossom thornless roses. My feet tip-toe across the kitchen where I kneel down to their level. Odette effectively shuts me up when she grasps my hands. An endearing action of love, yes, but I think she wants a nod of my head. Outside is a light sprinkling of rain that echoes very quietly across the roof and windows. No thunder. I don’t dare look at Cameron; he knows what I’ll do as my head nods yes.
Orson races towards the backdoor in his pajamas being his only protection against the water. I look towards the coat rack, nodding where our coats and shoes live. She already knows what I’ll request once she releases my hands from her tiny hold.
“Shoes and jacket!” Odette commands with a loud boom charging to grab both their rain slickers and boots. She scuffles forward with more commands for him to put them on first.
“Mom says, shoes and jacket first!”
“I know already. I know. Shoes and jacket before rain.”
I stand back up watching them, Odette a little fox, Orson a shark, vanish out of the door. First, I move to Cameron to indulge in a few quick kisses. Exactly three against my lips that seem to settle the unsteadiness lingering from my dreams. Next to Sylas, wiping some jam from his cheek. His hands are a mess of his breakfast with bigger chunks all lingering across our floor. Our hounds are all huffing out their desires to eat the leftovers. Well trained, none of them move from their beds. There is little interest in me at the moment because our baby is busy trying to sample all of his father’s yummy pancakes. No need for me but he does smile at me. Not a single babble of noise from him. For now, this is okay...
This quietness brings in a process of familiarity. Another week that would lead to the next… Nothing to disrupt our peaceful lives. However, that is incorrect. The moment my words escaped deep within my gut where the acid decimated them was the last moment of 'peace'. Now the silence must… be satisfied again. It'll only free my vocal cords after a feast…
We’ve begun to enter forests; a hunting ground. A grave of damned… Feeding ground of brutality… Pro Wrestling Excellence.
White noise is coming. I know it’ll soon consume all the pleasant lullabies in my home like a plague. It’ll tumble from my opponents mouths like a colony of dead spiders; once thought to be dangerous but have all shriveled up. Each of them claiming to be different but their static is all the same to my ears… Ego upon holy crusades. I’ve yet to discover pure action from another wrestler in this sport; fluent in both my God and my language. Some have claimed to worship in the same church but I'm unsure if they truly live by those standards. Do they use violence to cleanse? Or as another method to feed their own egos?
My hands clench as I slowly move down the hallway. No need to pull on my own jacket because I will remain safely tucked beneath the overhang. The coolness of the pavement shoots up through my body sending a wave of chills. I clutch both arms around my midsection watching the twins climb up into their playhouse. It could easily be mistaken for a cluster of trees aside from the rope bridges connecting three together, and a spotting of windows in trunks. Glimpses of the two removes the abrupt chill from my body. Laughter floats across the wind not weighed down by the rain at all.
I often wonder what might it be if Cameron and I were to transverse normalcy. Joining crowds instead of observing from afar. If we could do just that then would we have to disrupt this peaceful life for the counterpart? A stark difference between what soothes my soul, and what feeds the all consuming hunger.
My shoulders are swiftly covered by a heavy blanket that nearly tumbles straight off. I grab hold and drape myself in it. Cameron’s presence will tower above me for just a few more minutes. We stand in complete quietness; in a loving agreement. It is only broken when I feel him move back inside.
Behind pastels paintings perhaps I would so easily move off of the patio in order to join my children on their wondrous quests. Tomorrow is filled with more of the same and beginning a never ending cycle of just that. Easy gasps of happiness all swallowed in cups of sunshine. So bright that my hands must raise in order to block the direct contact, but the warmth still covers my body. Cameron and I seal the doors like they had never been there to begin with. All forgotten like the families we’ve said our final goodbyes to. Final peace that we... said yes to.
Instead, we are in vivid splashes of abstract where my hands must be covered in neons. I know too well what occurs if I ignore the stab of hunger. We trudge together back to the padlock to insert the blood soaked key. Both touch one side of the gate to push it open and it wails. We may bathe in familiar sins after the first steps are taken inside. In either, I do not hesitate… However, reigniting old purposes changes the reflection in the mirror.
I have not decided which image I like more… and I hate that.
“My first thought is also that it's vulnerable. And yet... I want to crush it. A primal rejection of weakness which is every bit as natural as the nurturing instinct. Of course, I wouldn't crush it, but my first thought is to do just that.”
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━Dim lights cast eerie shadows over a square cycle that has two figures inside. Both lung together in a vicious clash of bodies. The smaller one climbed on top of the large one and raised both fists to slam down. Almost feral noises empty out of the battle. A clear splattering of blood dripping down the closest corner. There is a nostalgic click and whirl of an audio diary’s type being read… A voice was craftily coated in playful unclear static, light enough to not disrupt the voices…
“Hello, Cameron. Thank you for joining me today. I’ll try to keep this to the point as possible so as to not confuse my reasoning for asking you here. I have been having some concerns with Tara’s recent developments. How she is receding from all the progress previously accomplished. Not just her lack of vocal communication, but closing herself off from society. With this comes a severe lack of awareness for the safety of other people. We’ve both seen this up close… Though, surprisingly, there was a lack of concern from one of us.”
“It’s as if the cable connecting her to empathy vanishes when other norms are closed off. One closed door opens another... I’m afraid that this’ll lead to a dangerous repetition to her carnal urge to harm others. A gateway that had been rightfully closed off to offer her a more stabilized mentality. Her routine with the children and you is something that should be strived to keep in tact. Do you not see the—”
“There is nothing wrong with my wife.”
“Cameron— It’s imprudent to ignore everything going on with her. She is going to get worse! Inviting in that carnivorous viciousness is not a healthy outlet for her. There is no limit once she begins to open those gates again. If we encourage that then we are accepting what sins might be committed. Have you prepared yourself for that? Have you prepared the children for that?”
[ Retreating footsteps grow fainted. There is the click of a door shutting and silence.]
The recording stops there. While a shadowed figure stumbles out from the ring. Whether it be blood or sweat dripping off the form is uncertain. Soon, the larger figure rises from the mat like a reanimated corpse. Water is chugged back into the feminine body then the bottle is thrown at the second combatant. The two clash outside of the ring ignoring the hard ground around the outside.
Another click and the beginning of the spinning of yet another type is heard above the noises of struggling.
“Tara… I came across the news of you re-entering into wrestling. I even watched your introduction in PWE. Are you sure this is a wise decision? Since I am no longer acting as your therapist, more so a… friendly presence; I like to believe that it gives me a more open forum to speak freely. Usually I would be encouraging this avenue for you to venture but there is a clear understanding to why you wish to join again. Having healthy outlets, such as wrestling used to be, is a good thing. Creating realistic goals allows a person to have stable environments to improve… An idea we’ve discussed and that you expressed interest in. If you were to aim to be their first champion then it should be a positive endeavor. You don’t want that though. You’d rather earn it through, what you believe, is righteous violence. I do wonder how long it’ll sustain you this time.
These primal instincts very rarely allow openings to escape them, unscarred, when a person feeds them as much as you. You fuel a ravenous creature inside where it festers, and it grows to overtake you completely. I’d consider what that might look like before shoving in another bite. You’ve already considered the next meal though despite an understanding of what I just said. PWE is a feast for that **THING** and you will prepare the entire roster like a scrumptious sacrifice. In victory or in loss; even victory does not change your perception of these battles. Knowing the slaughter that you lead unexpecting lions to will shred you on the way down. It’ll be a mutual mauling as they slide down your gullet and into the bowels of the beast. I almost pity them because they will unwittingly welcome it.”
[ A deep breath in taken. ]
“You engage simply for the action with no miscommunication. I am curious if you know where the ending to all this might be. Afterall, your ability to nourish the beast through Damian was never a solution but a delusion. One in which you’ve been aware the entire time… Unsurprising that most believe your husband is the creator. The monster, and the bride of Frankenstein. Those are false assumptions. He merely molded raw materials into a venomous drenched blade that you wield pridefully. The equal parts of you two feeding into the blackened veils to be shrouded in, is the most menacing part of your partnership. None of them will accept the sight until it is too late to step outside.
“There will be bold accusations of who you are. Yet there is no longer fear when it comes to careless words being thrown around in your direction. A childish flight reaction now smothered out completely. When they speak it is a simple raising of the full moon so that Damian can open the cage you’ve crafted. Do you think it’ll sound like a symphony of screams while the both of you revel inside of that gory womb?
I am… finally drawing a conclusion, Tara, one, I fear your opponents might learn too late— You are dangerous.”
[ A small gap of silence, with a soft clink of a glass hitting against a solid surface. One long exhale.]
“This plan you’ve begun to map out only has a few bumps in the road. Though with Damian’s experience and your natural ability to gain and retain information these have all been accounted for. The only difficulty I can truly see is the fact that you no longer seem to speak. So my curiosity wishes to know: Just how will you respond when you refuse to speak?”
The lights cut out completely leaving the room in inky blackness. A shuffling is heard just before the lights return again. Tara wipes blood from her cheek with the back of her hand while her other hand extends out. She uses a single finger to press down another button. Whirling from an audio diary begins again. This one is a robotic voice that is carefully reading over written lines.
“I do not know intimate information about anyone outside of my husband. I will not claim to nor will I speak on anyone’s fortitude. To do so early on would be opening up for appearing a fool. The only glimpses I have are from the people who spoke on Strategic Assault; the rest are simply photos beneath titles. Luckily, knowing just what makes a person tick is only truly rewarding during One-on-one matches. These muddled battle royals are only for opportunities and the ability to strike upon the opportune one.”
Driscoll, Skye, Koufax, Alexander, Mason are the first to begin the process. Each person is on similar levels; warriors that’ll be ultimately sacrificed. Easy prey is an utter disappointment so those who are weeded out will be forgotten altogether. This fate has been set into the hands of the individual. Relevancy is now decided solely on the performance given instead of any preconceived ideas. Outside victories act only as armor but not weapons. Not until the ending of Victory…”
Clear the static, the repetition; so many claims all jumbled up by the flexing egos. Now we will truly see which words were wasted. The entire roster is set up for our very first war. . . Even Damian. . . Not a single one is spared. . .
Don’t worry… You all will learn how to properly worship my God.” 
