012
perspectives in love
"Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it."
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Our returns couldn’t have been more productive. The night ended in our favor as I knew it would; hands raised in victory. The succulent taste of violence still lingering upon our tongues.
Mommy and daddy were home, yes. Only daddy was off playing golf with the boys, and mommy was sipping on wine listening to her stories in a robe. Sat inside the beautiful manor being bathed in fantasies. Consumed by plots that made her smile.
We were not the same united front. Our goals diverting to where we hope to feed our ever-lasting appetites. Unfinished business disrupts my husband's palette. My stomach gurgles. I pity PWE’s roster; wishing only to save them so the pit doesn’t fully digest their dreams.
Mercy is an unusual taste that I’ve rarely considered adding to my diet. With the help of my cult, perhaps it’ll marinate to appease me as much as breaking does. I watched them do as instructed with a beautiful presentation. This assures me that I’ve chosen correctly. My steady hand has begun shifting the pieces around in my palm. Soon… The result will be beautiful. PWE will find violence again.
Mommy and daddy have returned. Only daddy is watching from the kitchen window, hands tight. Mommy is lounging in a diaphanous dress, bathing in the sun and waiting for his next move.
Damian’s ravenous gaze tracks my every move now. Hunting for answers.
I have never felt more powerful.
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SHE.
The house was never mine despite the time spent inside of it. Dust clung to the forever-shut curtains that kept everything a dim lighting. Compared to my family home, it was like living in a cave. Within this cave, most would assume, a massive beast resided. They’d heard the stories of the snarling, venom tipped fangs, and bloodthirsty creature. At the time, even Melissa, who had referred me, spoke with a bit of flare. Dramatics that tossed my imagination into a frenzy. Hence my nervousness upon meeting him. He was meant to be a monster. The God Slaying Beast. Yet what I found was just a man.
Cameron was a sleepy man who binged books in midday and stayed up until the sun alerted him to rest. He ate on whims, rarely cooking unless it was a special occasion. My cooking was far more common. A disheveled air nipped at his appearance of unruly locks and bagging clothing. This was no nightmare. Not with his lazy laughter that accompanied the video games he’d play to pass the time. Such a gentle tower of a man who wandered through his home with comfortable ease. However, I never viewed him as ‘past his prime’. Merely, he had locked that part of himself away. Whatever influenced terror had gone to sleep. I couldn’t say if I expected more.
His training was a mixed bag to keep my senses keen. Though I swiftly adjusted to match his movements. Even from the beginning our wrestling was woven through anticipation. An impromptu dance very slowly endeared us together. Cameron has forever been a perfect partner. It was there when the curtain opened unveiling his hunger dwelling beneath. When I met Damian Von Licht for the first time. Where there should have been terror pumping through my body, there was bliss. Beneath his feasting eyes rifling through my soul, I was bared for him to see everything I had ever hidden. There was familiarity upon discovery of my demons. I never saw myself, defenseless, wandering into his parlor nor did I ever think I was luring him into a pit. We merely stepped together in sync. He wanted nothing more than to devour me. At that moment, I let him, but not before I took bite after bite in turn.
It was there I found a essense of completeness like never before. It wasn’t just because Cameron accepted, and loved, parts of me that I never dared. It was being introduced to a new view of myself. I gained the ability to weather great storms and win great victories. Crippling instants were manageable thanks to the gifts he offered me. They provided strength so I could conquer. With them I did something grand. Winning the Impulse title was by my hand alone, but it was thanks, in great part, to him. My resilience traverses from ring to home due to us being together. With everything he has done for me, I wish I could provide the same.
Which is why –
Leo’s cry splits our bedroom in pieces. Its high octave bounces through my skull. It has only been an hour… My body closes around the newest baby while my mind gently peels the haze off. Our home is a blur of shadow and dim nightlights. If I keep Leo in our room, then it’ll wake Cameron. My feet blindly navigate down the hallway, moonlight highlighting the carpet. Bowser is on my left gently leading us to Leo’s nursery. Our dogs have started to follow me more since my hospital trip.
Another cry – I feel the urge to scream with Leo. It boils in my stomach and lasts throughout the day. Leo’s banshee wails have unsettled me to the point of setting him into his crib. Hunger? No. Wet diaper? No. Is he cold? No? Too hot?! No! Is he sick!? No!
No! No! No!
I ease the door to the nursery shut, muffling him for just a moment while I sink to the floor. My body aches from training and it aches from sleeping. It aches deep in my core where I am desperately trying to not feel terrible. Why? I know why.
My husband and I used to dance all the time. Even with children, there was a balance to our lives. Our happiness. Now, I feel we often stare through each other. There is no tenderness. Nothing… There are his desires. There are mine. There is our fucking routine where I just go through the motions with him. The music stopped but it’s unclear as to when. What brought us together was a match set up by PWE. I should send Charlie a gift basket as a thank-you. What connects us now is wrestling. Therefore I must do more. I must be better. I must be the best. If I’m not then…
Tears drip down my face while I clasp a hand over my mouth to stop from releasing a well earned scream of my own. When I act like this it makes Bowser whine. He wants to go find Cameron to warn him something is wrong again.
I broke something between us with my silence. With Leo, I haven’t had time to even look at the damage. It just worsens every single week. Showing itself with Damian’s mind being occupied by Allen and Pro Wrestling Excellence. Through the door, the crying drifts off leaving me with my own pathetic noises. I have lost his eyes and I can’t even remember when. My husband loves him; I love him. We’re just so exhausted. We’re just off beat. We’d kill for one another– So why is it taking our careers for us to spend time together again? When we train it is as if nothing disrupted us to begin with so I beg for longer sessions despite our bodies on their limits.
I’m…so tired. I want to sleep for more than two hours at a time. It is half the reason I ran to other people for help. I’ve gotten so fucking weak that I’m allowing doubt to slowly bludgeon me bloody.
“When was the last time you two… you know. Did adult things?”
Shut the fuck up, Melissa! Shut up!
God, what if he leaves me? What if he does? He might leave me. I widen the gap between us further. All my plans were for us, to better things for us, but what if it doesn’t work? What if I fail? If I fail then the damage I've done will drive this wedge even further. We might end up just like my parents who barely even slept in the same bed. They only interacted when life dragged them together, kicking and screaming. What if–
I feel his warmth before his arms are around me. I breathe in his scent before I’m pressed against his chest. My entire body stiffens up while sucking in shaking breaths. Do not cry. Stop it.
“Didn’t…didn’t mean to w-wake you.” I sigh. "I'm going to make some coffee."
“At this hour? Why not hot chocolate?” Butterflies land against my cheeks.
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“Do you remember what happened the last time that we were together in the ring, my love?”
“We culled an unworthy man from the company and left his partner grasping at air.”
“And now they put us back together against a team even less coordinated than the last.”
“They sent Joe to the gallows for punishment and offered us a meal in Enigma. He, bound in chains, dragged behind though I cannot fathom why. To build resilience? So that we might help him?”
“They do it because they want to see if they’re ready. It’s what they’ve always done with us.”
The pair decided to stray from their usual darker locales for a beach. It was shortly after dawn, where the sky had not woken up entirely. Thin clouds hung overhead, and the sun hadn’t crawled to its peak. Damian and Tara both stood at the edge of the ocean, watching the tide come close to them and retreat back. Serene as it appeared, there did come a significant eeriness as they stood there unmoving. Their voices didn’t come from their lips, but merely from a voiceover.
“There’s something to be said about our status if we’re both the test and the cleansers. There are many names associated with us that are settled in the alumni section. Many of them were people that didn’t meet your standards and were disposed of after we defeated them. Where has Kai Driscoll, Jace Koufax, Zoey Madigan-Star, and Blaze Darling gone after you beat them, my love?” Damian paused, “the same place that Ashley Whitmore, Nathaniel Cartwright, Paul Montuori and ALiCE went after I put them down.”
“Away,” the Godslaying Beast would allow the tide to fill a gap of silence.
“We find ourselves on this beach because we appreciate the tide. We resemble it in a way. Certainly beautiful to gaze upon, but everyone should know better than to test it. In one foul swoop, it will devour you and steal you away, never to be seen again. This was the conclusion of many, and it will continue to be as long as we stay in this company,” the former Excellence Champion let out a satisfied noise. “And there will always be fools that will come after us, wanting to be the one to conquer the ocean.”
“The newest addition to the list is Joe Montuori. He is certainly fool-hardy enough to believe himself the next Poseidon. While I applaud his resilience in staying, while I offer limited appreciation for his treatment of the Impulse title, that is the end of it. I’m still unsure if his title reign was full of might or merely a car crash where none of us could look away. Though in your disrespect people wanted to dethrone you. You brought bloodshed but in the end, you lost to Jason Long. Unable to measure up. Unable to bear the weight.” Tara offered two weak claps. “The audacity strung high of you caught my eyes while I imagined this very moment, Joe. Where I could wrap each individual finger around your neck and squeeze.”
“That action would be done by my hand and mine alone. Can you fathom such a thing? I highly doubt it. What with you suckling on LCP’s teat like a defenseless babe. We both know you’d be floundering without the help of others. Even the disrespectful actions against our current Excellence champion was done with Vhodka Black’s help. Was it her whispering in your ear? Hotdogs fall more to her eccentric mind than your own. She even admitted that she did that all for Allen. Were you a pretty accessory? That alone should offer enough reason why, in the end, you’ll be on your stomach crawling from this match. I needed no one when I conquered and consumed. Damian needed no aid in his reign. We together, or alone, have helped mold this company.”
“Truthfully, it should be my sole intention to make sure you don’t make it to Allen, rob you of your spot, and make sure you stay relegated to where I think you belong. I made a mockery of your family once with your brother. So why don't I do the same for you?” Damian chuckled. “I would have more of a reason because you’re letting the FIGHT virus slip through the cracks that our management refuses to close up. The same mess that plagued that corpse will never reach here. But that’s not my job. No, as much as I am the father and Tara’s the mother of this company, we both simply want to reinforce what’s already apparent. Joe, you may be good, but you’re not us. You’re only here because of a mishap, a blip in the system, and if by some happenstance you beat Allen, this match will serve as a reminder to why you should have never went after the Excellence title to start.”
“Though you do not share the limelight alone, no, no, there lies a gentle giant in your corner. A person that I’m sure wishes that he was the one going after Allen. Oh, Enigma, you’re the Caliban in this scenario, the slave that does not understand. You’re a creature that’s trapped on an island, unable to escape his fate. And you’re the odd man out in this match. Though it’s for a good cause.”
“Our company is bountiful, so it can afford to give many chances to those they believe in. It’s just ironic that your last endeavor before the start of the new year was putting Joe’s brother down. However that may have happened, it seemed to have impressed the brass enough to put you in front of Tara and I. The prevalent issue you face is that my family knows you already.”
“The reason why you weren’t the winner of the Call Your Shot Tournament was because you ran into my baby sister.” Damian chuckled again, delighted at the fact. “I saw glimpses of what lies behind the surface. You’re a monster in stature, but not in essence, but that can be easily changed. He used to exist, didn’t he, Tara?”
“You often speak of the ‘monster’ you used to be. How it’s been sealed away for the better. Have you not realized how it is crippling your potential? This shell of you is circling the drain unable to stop the descent, falling victim to the gnashing fangs. Winning but not when it matters. Aren’t you tired of important victories slipping through your fingers? A long time ago, I was just like you. Hiding my true nature from the arena. I suffered a great deal, loss after humiliating loss. Being digested, being beaten, and never earning a chance at anything! Learn from these warnings before it’s too late. Unlock the door again, Enigma.” A smile crept across her lips. “Release him. Show us why you might one day rise to beat us! As you are right now… I’m afraid it just isn’t possible. There is no room for weakness in Pro Wrestling Excellence. Take it as mercy when we break you alongside Joe. Take it as grace when we baptize you in blood. Where there is no hope for Joe, there is some for you! Take this match, hold it close to your heart, and join us…”
“Because if you don’t, the ocean tide will collect what’s left of you, and you will be taken away into the depths, never to be seen again.” Damian reached his hand out to his wife, who gladly took it. “We are not individuals trying to win. We are the symbol of unity here in Pro Wrestling Excellence. We are going to win because of the disconnect between you two. Consider this a date night for us.”
“The capability that we share honed by years of training and togetherness is something you won’t understand. No, you won’t until it’s too late,” Damian said as he turned to his wife, wrapping his arm around her waist. The ocean lifted higher. “And by then you will also understand one last important thing.”
“How to Reach Heaven Through Violence.”
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HIM.
I never wanted students.
My mind wasn’t geared towards the idea anymore. In fact, I refuted anybody that heard of me through the pipelines of independent wrestling. They didn’t need me to excel, and not because of self-hatred. No, I had nothing to offer anybody that more reputable sources couldn’t do better. The ring in the basement stood as a relic of my upbringing, used to hone skills that I began to lock away. I couldn’t bring myself to tear it down. On the forefront, it was practicality, the effort of drawing a ring up again being a herculean task. On the other were said memories tying me to it.
Melissa Reed, a piece of my past that was simultaneously a blessing and a tumor, reappeared in my life. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw her. Yet, she did so on a dreary day, where it drizzled off and on. The clouds muffled the sunlight, which did its part in shrouding the mousy girl Melissa brought to my doorstep. I didn’t even process that Melissa had found me again, a persistent and annoying trait of hers. She introduced the girl to me. Tara Dola, a fledgling wrestler who was in need of stiffer guidance. Perhaps she had stumbled on her way through the early goings of her career. Melissa, being her friend, knew of a person that could hone her skills. I was shocked that she didn’t send her to Artemis, the most notable of our family. Once again, I didn’t want students, but Tara couldn’t look me in the eye. I saw bandages around her fingers, remnants of harsh conditions.
Then she fainted.
Melissa almost begged me to do it, relying on past favors due. I accepted after two attempts. From there, I tested her acumen. Was there anything worthwhile nestled behind her demure expression? Was there a warrior? The question kept me from dismissing her as she matched my moves. She took anything that I had to throw at her, even in some vain effort to scare her off. Soon, I found myself, fitting her rhythm, doing more to reinforce what she had already. That in turn clued me into her potential. She was a savant, absorbing any tutelage I offered, either vocally or physically. She spent more time at my home to the point where I gave her permission to stay overnight. I inquired about where she called home, to which she bitterly shook her head.
She met my advances with a similar temperament. Fingertips were grazing the surface of the truth, wondering if they should infringe deeper. In turn, she dug her way into my heart. She didn’t play with it, no, she bit into it. The flesh was succulent, the taste addictive. Soon enough, she became something more than my student. She became my lover, but it was meant to be that way, I came to believe. The world never brings people together for some haphazard reason. She brought out feelings that were locked away with careful hands and a sheepish smile.
Tara would never know how much she did for me. She invited love back into my hollowed home, where I spent time in motionless despair. In a way, she became my vice before she helped me heal. And as we danced around the empty space, I saw my future changing. Dusty relics were replaced with newer treasures, pictures of our trips. Rooms that held nothing but grief became places of entertainment. Other rooms became the places where our children slept. We made our own paradise, away from the world. Snowy days became common. I spent time building wooden fortresses for our children to play. I educated Tara on dog breeding, bringing her into the family tradition.
Our careers began to merge as we both set out on Pro Wrestling Excellence. She wanted to test herself, seeking out the violence had been denied. I took her hand and went with her on her journey. I positioned myself at the top, becoming the World Champion. It still wasn’t for myself. I wanted to cultivate the best competition, the most bountiful feast for her. When my time at the top was done, I wanted to invite her to feast upon all that I have farmed. She deserved it. Soon enough, she achieved a long-sought goal. She won the Impulse Championship, finally tasting gold. I saw the smile on her face, the vividness of her happiness that mixed in with her sadistic desires. I welcomed it in, but to what end?
As much as I love her, I failed her.
Seeking help for her demons, something I couldn’t do, she fell into the machinations of a cruel man. Dr. Malcom led Tara into danger, giving her the wrong drugs. The different times that she almost killed herself was both his and my fault. What I didn’t do, in my own hysteria, led to the love of my life falling off a cliffside. If it wasn’t for others around me saying so, would I have stuck my hand out? Would I have saved her from the abyss below? I dread to think that she was perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong with my wife, when in fact, she was losing herself.
The scar it left for me, even after I disposed of the bad doctor, remained with me. It festered as time went along, even as she was pregnant again. What was I meant to be a protector, a guide, a proper husband. Therefore, I couldn’t stand the thought of living alongside as if nothing happened. I kept my promise of killing for her when the time called for it, but to what end? It was penance that wouldn’t suffice. I could bury everybody in the world for her and it wouldn’t be enough to make up for my misdeed.
All I did in my return was to prove myself worthy of her. I didn’t deserve her by my bedside after Allen and I plunged off the scaffold. There, I learned that I only serve to worry her more. While she was carrying our child, almost ready to be born, I brought heartache on her. Why must I continue to do this to her? Why must I be a burden? I’ll never work hard enough to earn her forgiveness, even if she gifted it to me out of the love in her heart.
She’s my reason for living, and I will continue to live to keep her by my side.
While Tara slumbered, worn out from Leo’s screeching, I stepped in quietly. Though his voice rips through my brain, sparking headache after headache, I soldier on. It’s the least I can do. She doesn’t feel me carry her to bed. She doesn’t notice me leaving her food and water in the late hours. I do as much as I can to take the burden off her, even as I was recovering. My dogs did a wonderful job in helping. Bowser, the ringleader, would scurry to me if Tara had fallen asleep in the rocking chair. Odette and Orson would follow behind their mother and I, offering whatever support they could. They must have felt the ripples, and adjusted to try to mend them.
Orson often asked if Tara was going to be okay. I said that I would see to it. That’s what I dedicated myself to.
Then she vanished. I didn’t know where she went. My heart froze as I scoured around for her. Memories of her in the hospital played on repeat as I searched my home. The dogs were confused, their tails softly wagging. The children weren’t here either. I checked windows for forced entry, nothing. The rooms were in order aside from the children’s usual, tiny messes. I walked outside to see my neighbor, who told me that he was surprised to see me. His message about Tara rattled me. It was happening again.
When she returned, I felt elated. She was safe and sound. There wasn’t a mark on her. There weren’t any injuries making themselves known. When our children finished suffocating her with hugs, she approached me. Her eyes searched my face, perhaps looking for any anger. I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but happy. She gave a smile.
“You look worried. Is everything okay?”
“It is now.”
She giggled softly. “I’ll go get started on lunch. It’s about that time.”
“No, allow me. I should–” she interrupted me with a kiss. My body melted, the sweetness of her lips absorbed me into a trance.
And all was well in our world again. That is until Leo started to cry.
