The Lost Girl (Part Two)
Jul 7, 2016 1:18:32 GMT -5
Post by Savannah Taylor on Jul 7, 2016 1:18:32 GMT -5
January 23rd, 1999
Henderson, Nevada
OFF CAMERA
Winter in the desert climate of Nevada isn’t like it is in most parts of the country. While most places experience snow, ice and other typical winter conditions, Nevada doesn’t seem to witness any of it. The most drastic change that takes effect is the temperature dropping to the mid fifties, which wouldn’t seem like much, but it was enough to send residents scrambling for warmer clothes. The city of Henderson, located approximately sixteen miles outside of Las Vegas, was experiencing some of the more seasonable temperatures of the winter. In a quiet neighborhood just outside the heart of the city sat a two story house nestled right at the apex of a cul-de-sac. Out in the front yard, remnants of Christmas lawn decorations were still perched up against the hedges in front of the house. The house belonged to the Carmichael family, one of the more well-to-do families in the city. The patriarch of the family, Stephen, was a local city councilor and a lawyer while his wife Marcia was a branch manager at a local bank. They had a fourteen year old son named Brendan whom they thought the world of. The family was very active in their local church, St. Francis De Sales. It was their devotion to the church and the teachings of love and charity that led to them becoming foster parents. Their current foster child, their first actually, was the ten year old from nearby Las Vegas, Savannah Taylor. Stephen and Brendan had taken a shine to the youngster, but Brenda was a different story. Brenda always prided herself on her image and social status. While becoming a foster parent was an admirable thing, there was something about the little girl that didn’t sit right with her.
Savannah was seated at the kitchen table working on some homework, her yellow Pokemon pencil scribbling in her notebook as a textbook lay open in front of her. Brendan was seated at the opposite end of the table, working on a page of complicated-looking math problems. Savannah chewed slightly on the end of her pencil as she concentrated on her Geography, a move that emitted a soft clucking sound from her foster brother.
Brendan Carmichael: You’ve gotta stop doing that, or else you’ll run out of pencils.
Savannah Taylor: Sorry. I just hate this geography homework.
Brendan Carmichael: I know, but if you keep doing that, Mom said she won’t buy you any more.
Savannah sighs as she sets her pencil down. Her relationship with her foster mother was strained at best. The ten year old had no idea why. All she was doing was trying to be as good of a girl as she could. She didn’t get into trouble in school, she always did what was asked of her. The only thing she could think of was there was some lingering issues with what happened to Savannah’s mother, which was a subject that was never brought up thanks to Marcia’s proud nature. Savannah glanced around the table and spotted the local newspaper sitting just off center on the table. She goes to reach for it, but Brendan quickly stops her.
Savannah Taylor: Hey!
Brendan Carmichael: Sorry.
Savannah Taylor: I was going to read that.
Brendan Carmichael: I’m saving this…...for Dad. Yeah.
Savannah rolls her eyes almost in an annoyed manner as she once again reaches for the paper.
Savannah Taylor: All I want is to read the comics. Not fair!
Brendan Carmichael: And I told you I’m saving it for Dad.
But the younger girl wasn't having any of it as she reached out once again and this time was successful in yanking the paper away. Brendan sighs as Savannah sticks her tongue out.
Savannah Taylor: Ha ha. I win!
She gloats as she sets the paper in front of her and begins to flip to the section containing the comics. As she is thumbing through the paper, her eyes catch a small blurb in the section where all of the court and police blotter happenings were placed. She reads the blurb and her head cocks to the side, trying to make out what she is reading. Her eyes scan around the room before landing on a seemingly guilty looking Brendan.
Savannah Taylor: Is this why you kept this from me? So I wouldn’t find out that my mother was released from prison?
Brendan Carmichael: I was just trying to protect you…
Savannah Taylor: Why?
Before Brendan can answer, family matriarch Marcia walked into the room. She looks between the two sitting at the table and looks at the paper Savannah was holding.
Marcia Carmichael: What is going on in here?
Brendan Carmichael: I tried to keep it away…
Marcia turns to face Savannah.
Marcia Carmichael: Why do you have that?
Savannah Taylor: I...I just wanted to read the comics.
Marcia Carmichael: Well you obviously aren’t, now are you?
Savannah Taylor: Why didn’t you tell me?
Marcia Carmichael: Tell you about what?
Savannah Taylor: My mother.
The mere mention of Savannah’s mother made Marcia bristle. In her perfect world, there was no room for an imperfection such as taking in someone whose mother was a convicted criminal. She only took Savannah in a year and a half ago because she and her husband were having trouble conceiving a second child. They figured adoption was a viable option. That was when they took Savannah into their home. Marcia would have preferred someone younger and without the glaring imperfections on their life, but her husband and son wore her down enough.
Marcia Carmichael: Why? You want to know why? Because your mother is a bad person who did some equally bad things. She is taking after HER mother afterall.
Savannah Taylor: Stop it! Grandma never did anything wrong!
Marcia Carmichael: You watch your mouth, young lady. Your grandmother is just as bad, what with the information we were given about her.
Savannah Taylor: No she isn’t. She never hurt me at all.
Marcia reaches over and yanks the paper out of Savannah’s hand.
Marcia Carmichael: I told you to watch your mouth. We have important company coming over for dinner tonight and the last thing I want them to see is this laying around. Imagine if they were to connect the dots and find out that our foster child had a convict for a mother and a reckless child harmer for a grandmother. That would be the end of things.
Savannah could feel tears forming behind her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Savannah Taylor: I don’t care about their stupid opinions. They are wrong. They were going to find out anyway. They DO read.
She said defiantly as Marcia narrows her eyes. She reaches down and grabs Savannah by the arm, yanking the girl to her feet.
Marcia Carmichael: That is just about all I am going to stand from you. Take your books and go straight to your room. You can forget about dinner. I’m not going to have your mouth and your attitude ruin a perfectly good evening. You can stay there for the rest of the night.
She said with a low tone to her voice, which was borderline scary. Savannah gathered up her stuff and practically ran up the stair to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She tosses her books onto a nearby chair and flings herself onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow. Ever since she had come to the Carmichael’s over a year and a half ago, she had been welcomed by everyone but Marcia. Marcia had long held the crimes of Savannah’s mother against her and used that to treat her the way that she had been. She may as well have been called Petunia Dursley, after a character in the first Harry Potter book that Savannah secretly loved. Picking her head up, Savannah sits up and wipes her eyes. She reaches over to her nightstand and picks up the magazine that Brendan had loaned her. It was a wrestling magazine. Wrestling was something that she had been introduced to by her foster brother and was yet another bone of contention with Marcia. In Marcia’s world, no girl would be caught dead showing an interest in such a “sport.” But Savannah was more than interested, she was downright hooked. Pretty soon she was thinking that this was something she could do as a career. Of course, she was told that her dream was downright foolish and that she needed to get back to reality. As she began to flip through the magazine, her dream began to push itself to the front of her brain. One day, when she was old enough and had managed to get enough resources together, she would pursue her dream. She would finally be able to silence the naysayers, like her foster mother, who told her that girls just simply didn’t wrestle. Maybe if she kept at it when she came of age, she would be able to have some stability in her life. Maybe wrestling would provide that for her. But for now, she would have to be content with this sliver of paradise in an otherwise turbulent life she had at the tender age of ten. She simply had to find the strength and courage to carry on, and her dream of wrestling would hopefully see her through.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
Out of every possible phrase to use in the entire history of the English language, these two are probably the most annoying to hear and to even speak. Early on in life, hearing people say one or both of these phrases can be helpful and even inspiring. But over time, the repeated use of these colloquialisms can start to wear down even the most strong willed people. It is enough to test the patience of a saint.
I am no saint and I am not the most patient person in the world.
Sure, there are certain instances where being patient pays off, such as waiting for a promotion or for the object of your affection to finally give you that coveted look back. Pretty much this entire business that we work in is one big game of hurry up and wait. It seems all I have been doing is wait. I had to wait months before finally taking the plunge to join the FGA roster. I had to gether. wait years to have my family back together in my life. Now in a couple of days, I will have to wait again to get my chance to qualify for the Frontier Lion’s Cup. If I am being completely honest, I’m downright ecstatic to be chosen to compete in this tournament. Going into something like this, you would assume everyone is on equal footing and that everyone stands the same chance of winning as the next person in line. That right there is a lie. Looking over the names of the people signed up for this, there are names in this tournament that everyone should be afraid to face. These are the people who deserve to be here.
Senso Washi is not one of them.
Now, if this were taking place in another company around this time last year, then the mere thought of facing a newcomer would be downright insulting. I would have more than likely pitched a fit and made it my mission to make said newcomer regret facing me. Do you want to know what is different between then and now?
I’m not throwing a tantrum.
Senso, I want to welcome you here. I want to welcome you to the place where you will find, hands down, the best competition in the entire world. As I have found out, and am still finding out, people here don’t mess around. You have to have a certain kind of skin to be able to handle yourself here. I’ve had that kind of tough skin ever since I came into this business. Forgive me for saying that I don’t think you have what it takes right now.
Or don’t forgive me. Its totally up to you.
Let me set the scene for you. This is a scene of how I think things are going to play out on Saturday. The FGA faithful are going to rally behind the charismatic newcomer and hope he is able to pull off the upset win in his debut match. They will hurl their usual chorus of jeers, boos and catcalls at me because that is just what they do. It is their right to do that. I’m used to it. We are going to go out there and get the crowd as pumped as possible for the rest of the show. But here is where things get interesting. While people have this notion of the newcomer marching in and taking out the loudmouthed Las Vegas native, the reality is quite the opposite. What is actually going to happen is I am going to make good on my word and I am going to get through you to get to the next round of the tournament by any means necessary. What may come across to you as wild overconfidence and arrogance, I see it as the truth. I have stood toe to toe with some of the wrestling world’s best people and I have lived to tell the tale. I have been part of some of the most talked about matches of the past two years. I have won when it matters most, which is in the clutch. Most important of all, I have had to wait as patiently as I could for the rewards to come in. Once they started, it was one of the best feelings in the world. I look at the field and right off the top of my head, I see two people who know the pressures that come with holding the top prize in the game. Want to know a secret, Senso? I also know what it is like to hold the top prize in the game today. The only difference is there are certain events surrounding my title win that I refuse to talk about. All I will tell you is I waited a little over two years for that chance and it was the most bittersweet moment of my career.
I’m going into this qualifying match with a clear goal in mind...making it to the next round. I want to put my name at the top of the topics of conversation around watercoolers. To do that, I’ve got to go as far into this tournament as my abilities will allow me to. In order for THAT to happen, I have to get through you. So please, I invite you on Saturday to come at me with every possible move in your arsenal. I want you to come at me with your very best. That way when I end up pinning you or making you tap, you’ll know you were beaten by better competition. There is no way in hell I am going to allow some newcomer step between me and reaching the next round. I refuse to be made an example of when it comes to shocking upset wins. But don’t worry, I’m sure there will be other chances for you.
Auf Wiedersehen.
Henderson, Nevada
OFF CAMERA
Winter in the desert climate of Nevada isn’t like it is in most parts of the country. While most places experience snow, ice and other typical winter conditions, Nevada doesn’t seem to witness any of it. The most drastic change that takes effect is the temperature dropping to the mid fifties, which wouldn’t seem like much, but it was enough to send residents scrambling for warmer clothes. The city of Henderson, located approximately sixteen miles outside of Las Vegas, was experiencing some of the more seasonable temperatures of the winter. In a quiet neighborhood just outside the heart of the city sat a two story house nestled right at the apex of a cul-de-sac. Out in the front yard, remnants of Christmas lawn decorations were still perched up against the hedges in front of the house. The house belonged to the Carmichael family, one of the more well-to-do families in the city. The patriarch of the family, Stephen, was a local city councilor and a lawyer while his wife Marcia was a branch manager at a local bank. They had a fourteen year old son named Brendan whom they thought the world of. The family was very active in their local church, St. Francis De Sales. It was their devotion to the church and the teachings of love and charity that led to them becoming foster parents. Their current foster child, their first actually, was the ten year old from nearby Las Vegas, Savannah Taylor. Stephen and Brendan had taken a shine to the youngster, but Brenda was a different story. Brenda always prided herself on her image and social status. While becoming a foster parent was an admirable thing, there was something about the little girl that didn’t sit right with her.
Savannah was seated at the kitchen table working on some homework, her yellow Pokemon pencil scribbling in her notebook as a textbook lay open in front of her. Brendan was seated at the opposite end of the table, working on a page of complicated-looking math problems. Savannah chewed slightly on the end of her pencil as she concentrated on her Geography, a move that emitted a soft clucking sound from her foster brother.
Brendan Carmichael: You’ve gotta stop doing that, or else you’ll run out of pencils.
Savannah Taylor: Sorry. I just hate this geography homework.
Brendan Carmichael: I know, but if you keep doing that, Mom said she won’t buy you any more.
Savannah sighs as she sets her pencil down. Her relationship with her foster mother was strained at best. The ten year old had no idea why. All she was doing was trying to be as good of a girl as she could. She didn’t get into trouble in school, she always did what was asked of her. The only thing she could think of was there was some lingering issues with what happened to Savannah’s mother, which was a subject that was never brought up thanks to Marcia’s proud nature. Savannah glanced around the table and spotted the local newspaper sitting just off center on the table. She goes to reach for it, but Brendan quickly stops her.
Savannah Taylor: Hey!
Brendan Carmichael: Sorry.
Savannah Taylor: I was going to read that.
Brendan Carmichael: I’m saving this…...for Dad. Yeah.
Savannah rolls her eyes almost in an annoyed manner as she once again reaches for the paper.
Savannah Taylor: All I want is to read the comics. Not fair!
Brendan Carmichael: And I told you I’m saving it for Dad.
But the younger girl wasn't having any of it as she reached out once again and this time was successful in yanking the paper away. Brendan sighs as Savannah sticks her tongue out.
Savannah Taylor: Ha ha. I win!
She gloats as she sets the paper in front of her and begins to flip to the section containing the comics. As she is thumbing through the paper, her eyes catch a small blurb in the section where all of the court and police blotter happenings were placed. She reads the blurb and her head cocks to the side, trying to make out what she is reading. Her eyes scan around the room before landing on a seemingly guilty looking Brendan.
Savannah Taylor: Is this why you kept this from me? So I wouldn’t find out that my mother was released from prison?
Brendan Carmichael: I was just trying to protect you…
Savannah Taylor: Why?
Before Brendan can answer, family matriarch Marcia walked into the room. She looks between the two sitting at the table and looks at the paper Savannah was holding.
Marcia Carmichael: What is going on in here?
Brendan Carmichael: I tried to keep it away…
Marcia turns to face Savannah.
Marcia Carmichael: Why do you have that?
Savannah Taylor: I...I just wanted to read the comics.
Marcia Carmichael: Well you obviously aren’t, now are you?
Savannah Taylor: Why didn’t you tell me?
Marcia Carmichael: Tell you about what?
Savannah Taylor: My mother.
The mere mention of Savannah’s mother made Marcia bristle. In her perfect world, there was no room for an imperfection such as taking in someone whose mother was a convicted criminal. She only took Savannah in a year and a half ago because she and her husband were having trouble conceiving a second child. They figured adoption was a viable option. That was when they took Savannah into their home. Marcia would have preferred someone younger and without the glaring imperfections on their life, but her husband and son wore her down enough.
Marcia Carmichael: Why? You want to know why? Because your mother is a bad person who did some equally bad things. She is taking after HER mother afterall.
Savannah Taylor: Stop it! Grandma never did anything wrong!
Marcia Carmichael: You watch your mouth, young lady. Your grandmother is just as bad, what with the information we were given about her.
Savannah Taylor: No she isn’t. She never hurt me at all.
Marcia reaches over and yanks the paper out of Savannah’s hand.
Marcia Carmichael: I told you to watch your mouth. We have important company coming over for dinner tonight and the last thing I want them to see is this laying around. Imagine if they were to connect the dots and find out that our foster child had a convict for a mother and a reckless child harmer for a grandmother. That would be the end of things.
Savannah could feel tears forming behind her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Savannah Taylor: I don’t care about their stupid opinions. They are wrong. They were going to find out anyway. They DO read.
She said defiantly as Marcia narrows her eyes. She reaches down and grabs Savannah by the arm, yanking the girl to her feet.
Marcia Carmichael: That is just about all I am going to stand from you. Take your books and go straight to your room. You can forget about dinner. I’m not going to have your mouth and your attitude ruin a perfectly good evening. You can stay there for the rest of the night.
She said with a low tone to her voice, which was borderline scary. Savannah gathered up her stuff and practically ran up the stair to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She tosses her books onto a nearby chair and flings herself onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow. Ever since she had come to the Carmichael’s over a year and a half ago, she had been welcomed by everyone but Marcia. Marcia had long held the crimes of Savannah’s mother against her and used that to treat her the way that she had been. She may as well have been called Petunia Dursley, after a character in the first Harry Potter book that Savannah secretly loved. Picking her head up, Savannah sits up and wipes her eyes. She reaches over to her nightstand and picks up the magazine that Brendan had loaned her. It was a wrestling magazine. Wrestling was something that she had been introduced to by her foster brother and was yet another bone of contention with Marcia. In Marcia’s world, no girl would be caught dead showing an interest in such a “sport.” But Savannah was more than interested, she was downright hooked. Pretty soon she was thinking that this was something she could do as a career. Of course, she was told that her dream was downright foolish and that she needed to get back to reality. As she began to flip through the magazine, her dream began to push itself to the front of her brain. One day, when she was old enough and had managed to get enough resources together, she would pursue her dream. She would finally be able to silence the naysayers, like her foster mother, who told her that girls just simply didn’t wrestle. Maybe if she kept at it when she came of age, she would be able to have some stability in her life. Maybe wrestling would provide that for her. But for now, she would have to be content with this sliver of paradise in an otherwise turbulent life she had at the tender age of ten. She simply had to find the strength and courage to carry on, and her dream of wrestling would hopefully see her through.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
Out of every possible phrase to use in the entire history of the English language, these two are probably the most annoying to hear and to even speak. Early on in life, hearing people say one or both of these phrases can be helpful and even inspiring. But over time, the repeated use of these colloquialisms can start to wear down even the most strong willed people. It is enough to test the patience of a saint.
I am no saint and I am not the most patient person in the world.
Sure, there are certain instances where being patient pays off, such as waiting for a promotion or for the object of your affection to finally give you that coveted look back. Pretty much this entire business that we work in is one big game of hurry up and wait. It seems all I have been doing is wait. I had to wait months before finally taking the plunge to join the FGA roster. I had to gether. wait years to have my family back together in my life. Now in a couple of days, I will have to wait again to get my chance to qualify for the Frontier Lion’s Cup. If I am being completely honest, I’m downright ecstatic to be chosen to compete in this tournament. Going into something like this, you would assume everyone is on equal footing and that everyone stands the same chance of winning as the next person in line. That right there is a lie. Looking over the names of the people signed up for this, there are names in this tournament that everyone should be afraid to face. These are the people who deserve to be here.
Senso Washi is not one of them.
Now, if this were taking place in another company around this time last year, then the mere thought of facing a newcomer would be downright insulting. I would have more than likely pitched a fit and made it my mission to make said newcomer regret facing me. Do you want to know what is different between then and now?
I’m not throwing a tantrum.
Senso, I want to welcome you here. I want to welcome you to the place where you will find, hands down, the best competition in the entire world. As I have found out, and am still finding out, people here don’t mess around. You have to have a certain kind of skin to be able to handle yourself here. I’ve had that kind of tough skin ever since I came into this business. Forgive me for saying that I don’t think you have what it takes right now.
Or don’t forgive me. Its totally up to you.
Let me set the scene for you. This is a scene of how I think things are going to play out on Saturday. The FGA faithful are going to rally behind the charismatic newcomer and hope he is able to pull off the upset win in his debut match. They will hurl their usual chorus of jeers, boos and catcalls at me because that is just what they do. It is their right to do that. I’m used to it. We are going to go out there and get the crowd as pumped as possible for the rest of the show. But here is where things get interesting. While people have this notion of the newcomer marching in and taking out the loudmouthed Las Vegas native, the reality is quite the opposite. What is actually going to happen is I am going to make good on my word and I am going to get through you to get to the next round of the tournament by any means necessary. What may come across to you as wild overconfidence and arrogance, I see it as the truth. I have stood toe to toe with some of the wrestling world’s best people and I have lived to tell the tale. I have been part of some of the most talked about matches of the past two years. I have won when it matters most, which is in the clutch. Most important of all, I have had to wait as patiently as I could for the rewards to come in. Once they started, it was one of the best feelings in the world. I look at the field and right off the top of my head, I see two people who know the pressures that come with holding the top prize in the game. Want to know a secret, Senso? I also know what it is like to hold the top prize in the game today. The only difference is there are certain events surrounding my title win that I refuse to talk about. All I will tell you is I waited a little over two years for that chance and it was the most bittersweet moment of my career.
I’m going into this qualifying match with a clear goal in mind...making it to the next round. I want to put my name at the top of the topics of conversation around watercoolers. To do that, I’ve got to go as far into this tournament as my abilities will allow me to. In order for THAT to happen, I have to get through you. So please, I invite you on Saturday to come at me with every possible move in your arsenal. I want you to come at me with your very best. That way when I end up pinning you or making you tap, you’ll know you were beaten by better competition. There is no way in hell I am going to allow some newcomer step between me and reaching the next round. I refuse to be made an example of when it comes to shocking upset wins. But don’t worry, I’m sure there will be other chances for you.
Auf Wiedersehen.