FLASHBACK
Southampton, NY ||| November 25, 2021
(off camera)
STARKE'S LANDING WAS MASSIVE, towering over the most perfectly green expanse of lawn that he'd ever seen in front and backed by the most impossibly blue waters – it was like something out of a movie. Sev looked over the top of the car just in time to see his betrothed shiver, pulling her coat closed at her neck. He walked around to join her, feeling strangely exposed as their car was the only one in the enormous drive that would have been big enough to play regulation football on. Without thinking, he rounded the car and reached for her hand, her icy fingers immediately enveloped in warmth. They both lingered for a moment in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Pulling in a deep breath, he turned his head to look down at her, a gentle smile on his lips.
"Promise I will behave," he joked even though he was ready to get back in the car and drive away at a moment's notice.
"It's not you I'm worried about." Her reply came quick enough even though he could tell she was uneasy; he'd gotten so comfortable with her silences that he could pick up her moods. "This is a terrible idea," she hesitated, still rooted to the spot, "we should just leave. Say that I'm sick." She made a poor attempt at faking a cough; she was a terrible actress.
"I am
not worried." There was vehemence in his voice, something more than an implied threat in that simple declaration.
"We'll eat and then get the heck out." At that moment she craved a strong drink with a side of Xanax.
He wasn't privy to all the details of her childhood – that had been the one subject that they'd never really delved into during all their late-night talks. Now he wished he was better equipped with the understanding of what lay behind that massive door behind those Grecian pillars where her parents lived. "Dine and dash, yes?" He chuckled, "I like the sounds of that. Makes it seem more rebellious."
His attempt at making her smile worked, bringing a little laugh with it. She stepped in closer to him, not caring if there was anyone watching from those dozens of windows as she stretched up and pressed her lips to his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, those two words holding far more sentiment than just gratitude for his presence. "I couldn't do this without you."
"I suppose we should get this over–"
He stopped when the door opened, a thin man in a black suit standing there and regarding them both coolly. Sev caught himself before he blundered forward with an awkward greeting. For a moment, he'd thought this must be LJ's father before the man stepped back without a word, allowing them entry.
The help, he thought, thankful to have narrowly avoided that embarrassment.
LJ didn't pay much attention to the man she figured was part of the house staff. It had been ages since she'd last been here; the hired help had been swapped out so many times even when she'd called this home. "Thank you," she said to the man, offering him a pleasant smile. Once they'd passed, her smile immediately vanished. Anxiety clawed at her insides.
It didn't take long for LJ to lead Sev into what used to be the formal living room. It was still wide open, the uncovered widows all pointing towards the ocean. Even with all the leaves gone from the border hedges, it was still a gorgeous sight, even though the room was now decorated in blinding white that was so sterile it was a wonder the couches weren't wrapped in plastic. She released a sigh, unbuttoning the wool coat she had on. "You know," she slid her jacket off, setting it down on the nearest sofa only for it to immediately be whisked away by that same man. "We can still leave. Archer and Catherine never have to know that we were here."
"If that's what you want," he hesitated for a moment, looking to make sure they were still alone before leaning in to murmur in her ear as he wrapped his arm around her waist, "but maybe it is time to stand tall, to show them that they do not
own you." He'd picked up enough from context clues over the past few months to figure that her situation here was not unlike his own had been up until the beginning of the year. It didn't take a genius to see the way her shoulders slumped the moment she walked through the door, as if all the life and vibrancy had been sucked out of her. He recognized that behaviour, could see the way she was steeling herself for the blows that were expected – he wondered if it was both parents or just one who had made her feel so small, so insignificant. The thought made his blood boil, made him want to destroy this pristine room. Instead, he took a slow, deep breath and held it for a few seconds.
It certainly wasn't his place to force some dramatic scene. He was happy to be there as a champion for her, to help her gain the freedom that had become his greatest treasure, but he wasn't about to go on a rampage without that invitation first. "I will be here, no matter what you decide. Promise."
She nodded, stepping in closer and hugging onto him. She dreaded to think how bad her anxiety would have been if Sev hadn't accompanied her. That comforting moment was shattered by the clearing of a throat and then an all-too familiar voice coming from the doorway.
"I see you managed to find your way in," her father remarked coldly, "but as you can see, we're having a bit of a delay on dinner. William won't be here for another hour, so we're going to have cordials in the parlour if you'd care to join us and behave like civilised adults rather than groping each other like a pair of horny teens. I'm sure you remember where that is. If not, just ask Guillaume. He'll point you in the right direction."
Without another word, he turned and strode away, the sound of his dress shoes loud on the hardwood floors. LJ's cheeks went bright red but she forced a wooden smile. "And that's my father." Her eyes trailed over to the front door, wondering just how quietly they could leave.
Sev nodded, "yes, I assumed." He saw her gaze drift back towards the entry and he chuckled softly. "I am sure he would consider that a victory. You want to do introductions, no? Let us go have these… what did he say? Cordials?" The look in his eyes was familiar, that thousand-yard stare that he usually reserved for his opponents in the ring. Even now, dressed down in a cable-knit sweater that hid those rock-hard muscles from view, he was still imposing.
"Okay," she said with a nod, forcing those anxieties back down. "Let's go do
cordials." She hated that word, knowing what it meant. Her father had always used that term when he was planning to go toe-to-toe with a business associate. Hand in hand, she led him to the parlour where her step-mother Catherine sat in her chair as if she were perched on a throne. As soon as LJ met her eyes it was easy to see that the woman was ready to cut her down if need be.
Narrowing her eyes, Catherine took a drink from her glass of red wine and sized up her two guests. "Nice to see you could finally make time for your family Lauren-Jane. It's been
ages." The woman made no attempt at getting up or welcoming her step-daughter and other guest warmly. Instead, she gave him a dismissive wave. "And such a shame about Rick breaking off the engagement; he always did have immaculate taste though."
LJ said nothing, eyes downcast even as the first salvo was thrown – a low blow, bringing up the previous relationship she'd been in before meeting Sev. Of course,
he knew all about it. They'd been open about that with each other. It still hurt, that stab that she wasn't good enough, even though she loved the man sitting beside her far more than she ever had Rick Ravenswood.
Her hand was like a block of ice in his, spurring him on more than the silence that filled the room on the heels of that cutting barb. He headed towards the expensive-looking couch, beckoning for her to take a seat before he joined her. Immediately, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed that awful woman with his most intimidating glare. Stone-faced, he gave LJ's hand a gentle squeeze before speaking, making sure that he enunciated clearly.
"She has been busy; not much time to mourn such insignificant things when we are travelling all over the world." The smile that crossed his lips was cold, "and since you did not ask, I will not bother with any introductions or pleasanties."
Catherine let out a small chuckle as she took another sip of wine. "I know exactly who you are,
dear. No introductions needed." Her tone was patronizing as she let her gaze travel back to LJ who was still refusing to make eye contact. "Archer keeps track of
everyone who comes into Lauren-Jane's life."
The younger woman seemed to shrink as she sat next to her fiancé. Even with him there, knowing he would do ANYTHING to protect her, she still felt so small. When LJ looked up, she saw that her father was standing behind her stepmother's chair, the expression on his face unreadable as he refilled that awful woman's wineglass.
"Ah, this is good, then." Sev completely no-sold the frostiness in her tone, "I would hate to have to spend much time explaining myself – the last thing I want to be is an ENIGMA to future
family." He let that hang, wondering if their social media accounts had been studied, if these two assholes knew about the engagement.
"I can't even begin to tell you how disappointed we were that we didn't get a phone call about your
delightful news."
And there it is.LJ had been looking down at her lap and immediately felt both sets of her parents' eyes on her. "Everything happened so fast," the words came out small, defeated, "we haven't really told
anyone."
Truth be told, she hadn't wanted them to shit all over how happy she felt. For the first time in years, she had felt wanted and appreciated.
"I can only assume that was
his doing," her father finally chimed in, breaking his silence. "Has you gallivanting around, hanging off his arm and pawing at him like a common streetwalker. We raised you better than that, Lauren-Jane. The fact that we have never even met
this person before today speaks volumes–"
"ублюдок," Sev muttered the word under his breath, knowing that only LJ could hear and understand him.
She wanted to protest, to tell them that while they'd slept in the same bed more than once, that they hadn't yet been intimate. It wouldn't matter. They'd already made up their minds about the relationship, assuming that it was just another sick power struggle, more of those damned dominance games these two got off on.
Sev seemed clairvoyant in that moment, as if he knew everyone's thoughts and the words that came from his lips were caustic. "I do not find anything
cordial about this right now. Does waterboarding come next or do we wait until after appetizers for that? I am afraid I have never been to an American Thanksgiving meal before, but this does not seem to be what I envisioned when I was researching the custom."
"It's a pity they don't teach that at – what
university was it you went to?" Catherine cut in with a derisive little laugh. "Oh, that's right. You didn't even
finish high school, did you?" Both stepmother and father shared a laugh.
The moment that they had insulted Sev, LJ's anxiety was outweighed by years of pent-up anger. Her head snapped up, her narrowed eyes boring into both her father and that woman he had married, especially
her. "And what university was it you went to, Catherine?" She brought up her free hand and tapped her chin with her index finger. "Oh, wait! That's right… you didn't. Your time was spent under
his desk, getting ahead." She'd never been that bold before. When it came to insults focused on her, she never spoke up. They'd gone after Sev, though, and that was crossing the line. "Actually, it was you getting a-head, wasn't it, Father?" A smirk crossed her face; she'd never felt so brave and witty.
Her father's face was red, absolutely outraged. "How
dare you talk to us like that!"
"I think it is time for us to leave," Sev said quietly, pulling LJ to her feet. Neither one looked back as they left the room.
"If you walk out on that note, Lauren-Jane, don't you ever think about coming back!"
With her father's anger ringing in their ears, LJ couldn't help that strange feeling of lightness in her chest and the closer they got to the door, the more intense it was. When they both burst out into the cool afternoon, she finally recognized it for what it was:
liberation.
━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━
FOCUS.
I feel like we are on the same wavelength, as if we understand each other intimately. Your words resonated, Joe Montuori. JMont. Can I call you this? I feel like I know you well enough now that I can. Forgive me if that is overstepping, but I feel like in another reality we could have been friends.
This is why I feel the need to be honest. Unfettered and unbothered by the petty thoughts of those who do not understand the burden we carry.
I am afraid to sleep. Can't do it for more than an hour at a time until I start awake, terrified that she will be gone. I fear that my perfect world with my perfect little family unit will turn out to be the dream, and that reality will have become that nightmare. Afraid if I wake up after too long that she will be dead and I will have missed her funeral. Heavy thoughts, I know. And this is the paranoia of past traumas speaking, I know. But knowledge doesn't bring my mind any peace. I am sure you understand this.
To be in the public eye is sometimes exhausting.
Ah, but this is what it is to be us. There are no dreams. There are no nightmares. There is just another breath. Another breath. Another breath.
Eventually the sun comes up. The night bleeds to day. My eyes burn and I know I will close them soon out of necessity. I pray the bubble doesn't burst while my guard is down, while this weak body has to recharge. I wished to be immortal. I would never consider an infinite ocean of time to love and be loved as a curse.
Nothing lasts forever. I know this.
Do you have these fears, JMont? Do you worry about waking up alone? Do you worry about being discarded? Forgotten?
The reality I expect to find when I awake is harsh. There, I will have missed paying my respects. Miss crying for her. Miss seeing her that one last time. Miss the smell of flowers, and the murmured voices saying they are "sorry for my loss". They will not blame me, but I will blame myself. She was always too good for me. It was only a matter of time before the universe corrected that mistake.
DON'T BLINK. DON'T BREATHE. DON'T MAKE A SOUND.
Чужу́ю беду́ рука́ми разведу́, а к свое́й ума́ не приложу́.
All problems seem easy to solve, unless they are your own. So, I am dedicated to making memories, to filling this void in me with only good things. Joy. Love. Peace. No room for doubt.
I watch her sleep. I touch her just to assure myself she's still here. The countdown has begun. Things are changing. I do not fear this.
I feel it in my bones. I can become something more. Something better. I should probably care more about these three falls, about what beating you could mean for me in 2023. Another former champion, another discarded carcass in my wake – it sounds good on paper, no? But I should be happy. At least I know you will show up. This is something I have learned I cannot take for granted, not lately.
I seek to add two more names to the list of fallen before the year ends. Two final faces to my radar. I will mourn their demises – I am not a real monster. I just play one on television.
I feel I'm a walking target. Not just out there. All around. I feel hunted. I don't like that feeling. I want to run away with her, just disappear. I can't, because I have obligations. Besides, retreat seems like a waste. We deserve this.
OUR FREEDOM WAS EARNED.
There's nothing I can do to change the past. I cannot erase her memory. I can't revise history. All I can do is press on – we both will because we are survivors. Touch each other in the early morning hours, movements growing bolder until we're lost in the feeling of one another. Affirmation of life. Raging against the mortality that nips at our heels. It's part of being a wrestler. It's part of being free, no matter the vocation.
We are survivors. We are rebels. The cost is NEVER too great and I will gladly open a vein to give you whatever you need even though I know you would just as happily bleed me dry. I have been giving myself to this business for the last two decades without reprieve.
I know that my failures far outweigh the successes. I know I am far from perfect but there is someone who believes I am enough. I will hold this close until my dying day; I will sing songs from the highest rooftop so that everyone knows the joy I have found. I am not ashamed. I will not hide my flame under a bushel – I would rather inspire.
I would rather reach for the stars, to finally realize my full potential. There is a will. There is a way. I refuse to be like the others, pretending for the cameras like space monkeys. Live that lie – just keep it out of your eyes. Do what you are paid to do, nothing more. Nothing less.
MOVE. JUST KEEP MOVING.
I refuse to be a cog in the wrestling machine. Replacable. Faceless. Not any more.
I am resilience uncharted. I am undefined. Limitless. Bred for violence.
God. Answer-man. Devil. Who am I today? This is the true ENIGMA. This is the puzzle you cannot solve. And yet, the pressure persists, bearing down. I want to win this. I need to win this. I want to become something more.
A diamond in the rough or dust to scatter? Which will be the outcome at Magnificence? I will not entertain thoughts of the latter. I have risked too much; I have suffered fools for too long to be denied my happy ending. Positive manifestation is key, no?
I can see a win. Another notch in the column. Another thing for her to be proud of. I see one more step towards the inevitable end of everything I have ever known. I am unsure if this is a blessing or a curse.
Maybe I will know after I look into your eyes.
Maybe you can teach me how to...
FOCUS.
