Post by ketamine on Nov 10, 2016 20:32:52 GMT -5
A long line of shitty luck was enough to make anyone want to back out of the business and hope their names just faded away quietly. Nero Darling wanted to disappear that way, silently and without any fanfare. No one to mark her absence or wonder whatever happened to her.
It wasn't exactly a new feeling.
That feeling was what had her sloppy drunk and more than willing to crawl into bed with Dom fucking Harter. Never mind that she'd hated Dom Harter with an intensity that she normally reserved for people who ate meat in front of her. Never mind that Dom was her sister Journie’s ex. One of those exes that you never grew quite apathetic enough about that it wouldn't bother you that your kid sister sucked his dick in Vegas.
It was the kind of low that she didn't know how to come back from. A low that just kept piling more and more shit onto her shoulders until she thought she'd break from the weight of it. Or maybe she already had broken under its weight.
Nero flung herself back onto the hotel room bed but even burrowing under the plush blankets didn't give her any solace. There was just this feeling of what am I doing here?
The twins saw more of her mother than they did her because she was on the road so much and she hated that part of her enjoyed the freedom. She'd broken her back to be the best mother she could even though she'd been no more than a kid herself when they were born. But she felt like a failure when she felt a little thrill of freedom every time she got in the car to head to the next FGA show.
She felt guilty every time she caught herself envying people like Annie Zellor or Molly Reid who could go wherever they wanted, do whatever they wanted and not feel the weight of being responsible for two human lives other than their own.
There was no one who she could connect with on that level. Most women dipped out of the business once they had kids.
What made it worse was she had jack shit to show for it. No winning streak or title belt to at least make her feel like all that guilt was a worthy price to pay for being away from the Lima beans for so long.
She'd failed at getting a career off of the ground too.
She could add that to the long list of things she’d failed to accomplish. Nero swallowed hard, it was getting harder and harder to push that voice back. The one that said that she might as well just get up and leave. Go back home, maybe, and forget that she'd ever had this stupid dream in the first place.
Would FGA really fight her that hard for breaking her contract when she was barely good enough to jerk curtains for them? It wasn't like she was walking away as a top draw like Zero McHannon.
When her phone vibrated, she barely glanced at it but she read enough to wish she hadn't. She hadn't talked to Tom since she'd come clean about what happened in Vegas. His jaw had clenched and he'd muttered, “Guess we’re even now.”
He hadn't looked at her when she'd tried to explain that that wasn't anything close to what had happened. But she knew how it looked. It looked like she'd waited until things had started smoothing out between them to cheat like he had.
Though was it really cheating when they'd never put a label on whatever it was they were doing together?
She'd tried to break the ice on his birthday with a text but all she'd gotten back was a curt thanks five days later.
Nero rolled over onto her side and stared at her gym bag. She could get up and try to work out some of this aching disappointment and sadness inside of her the way she had before right after she and Tom had broken up. She could get dressed and head to the gym and deal with this like a normal human.
Or she could go back to sleep.
Nero dug a hand into the pocket of her jeans and palmed the sleeping pill nestled into the lining. She'd pocketed a handful of them from her mother's medicine cabinet before she'd left and she was down to just a few left.
She'd already slept through most of the day, choosing to hide in sleep rather than face the world. One more pill could buy her at least twelve more hours of not having to deal with the shit pile her life had become.
It didn't take her longer than a few seconds to make her decision and she tucked the little white pill into her mouth and swallowed it down without an ounce of regret.
She'd wake up tomorrow and still be a shitty wrestler, a shitty mother, a shitty person but for now… she wouldn't have to deal with it.
----------
“I've faced Ryan LeCavalier before. Not in a wrestling ring, but I've faced her in MLC. Two sides of the same brutal coin. It didn't end well for me, but you probably guessed that.”
The Nero Darling sitting in front of the camera is flat; almost one dimensional when you compared her to the bouncy girl who usually appeared on Twitter and her face to face promos.
“Nothing really ends well for me. Not lately, anyway. That's just a fact and not some woe is me cry for help. Because the truth is I've read everything everyone is saying. I've read everything Ryan has said. That I should just walk away after this and maybe I should.”
She licks her lips, ducking her head and not making direct eye contact with the camera. Everything about her is pared down, no make up on her face and a plain black tank top. “Maybe I should walk away and hope that no one remembers me in a few months. But I don't know how to do that when wrestling is the only thing that's ever made me happy.
Or, I guess, it did once.”
She shrugs, her words almost mechanical. “I'm not good at much. I tried college and I hated it. I tried waiting tables and I sucked at it. I used to be good at fighting, which is funny because I'd never been able to stand up to a bully in my life.
I was decent at MLC but nothing to write home about.”
She pauses, grappling for the words that tangle up inside of her. “But I don't want to walk away yet. So the Ryan LeCavaliers of the world are going to have to deal with me for a little bit longer.
I've given up on a lot of things in my life because I'm not good at standing my ground. I’m terrible at following through because it's easier to give up and I've taken the easy way in everything.
I've run when I should have stayed. I've let people push me away when I should have fought. I've let people walk all over me when I should have pushed back.
And if I keep doing that… if I keep taking the easy way out, what's the point of living? If I never stand up for anything or push myself harder why even bother?”
Nero brushes a stray hair out of her face as she finally lifts her blue eyes to the camera. “I’ll walk out there again and again and humiliate myself with every loss. I'll throw away whatever shred of dignity I have for this business because if I give up on this too because it was too hard or because I hate losing or because I'm embarrassed then who am I?”
She swallows hard, “What's the point of waking up every morning if there isn't even one thing that I don't take the easy way in?”
“I don't have the answer to that. I don't know what the point is,” she sighs softly. “I'm not going to sit here and lie and tell you there's no way Ryan can beat me. Because she has. A lot of people have.
But I'm going to keep getting back up until I can't anymore. This is my line in the sand. I've given up on college, I've let friendships and relationships that meant the world to me die because I was too afraid to fight for them.
But I'm not afraid anymore.
I'm not afraid because this is rock bottom and there's nothing left that can scare me.”
She leaned forward and shut the camera off abruptly, uploading it to YouTube before she had a chance to second guess posting something so raw.
It had felt more like being back in the confessional at her dad’s church more than it had felt like a promo. She'd peeled open her skin and invited the crows to come pick her bones clean and she had no doubt they would.
The truth, though, was that she was too numb to care. It wasn't about a lack of fear and more just a lack of anything.
But she'd keep walking into the ring until she finally remembered how to be herself.
It wasn't exactly a new feeling.
That feeling was what had her sloppy drunk and more than willing to crawl into bed with Dom fucking Harter. Never mind that she'd hated Dom Harter with an intensity that she normally reserved for people who ate meat in front of her. Never mind that Dom was her sister Journie’s ex. One of those exes that you never grew quite apathetic enough about that it wouldn't bother you that your kid sister sucked his dick in Vegas.
It was the kind of low that she didn't know how to come back from. A low that just kept piling more and more shit onto her shoulders until she thought she'd break from the weight of it. Or maybe she already had broken under its weight.
Nero flung herself back onto the hotel room bed but even burrowing under the plush blankets didn't give her any solace. There was just this feeling of what am I doing here?
The twins saw more of her mother than they did her because she was on the road so much and she hated that part of her enjoyed the freedom. She'd broken her back to be the best mother she could even though she'd been no more than a kid herself when they were born. But she felt like a failure when she felt a little thrill of freedom every time she got in the car to head to the next FGA show.
She felt guilty every time she caught herself envying people like Annie Zellor or Molly Reid who could go wherever they wanted, do whatever they wanted and not feel the weight of being responsible for two human lives other than their own.
There was no one who she could connect with on that level. Most women dipped out of the business once they had kids.
What made it worse was she had jack shit to show for it. No winning streak or title belt to at least make her feel like all that guilt was a worthy price to pay for being away from the Lima beans for so long.
She'd failed at getting a career off of the ground too.
She could add that to the long list of things she’d failed to accomplish. Nero swallowed hard, it was getting harder and harder to push that voice back. The one that said that she might as well just get up and leave. Go back home, maybe, and forget that she'd ever had this stupid dream in the first place.
Would FGA really fight her that hard for breaking her contract when she was barely good enough to jerk curtains for them? It wasn't like she was walking away as a top draw like Zero McHannon.
When her phone vibrated, she barely glanced at it but she read enough to wish she hadn't. She hadn't talked to Tom since she'd come clean about what happened in Vegas. His jaw had clenched and he'd muttered, “Guess we’re even now.”
He hadn't looked at her when she'd tried to explain that that wasn't anything close to what had happened. But she knew how it looked. It looked like she'd waited until things had started smoothing out between them to cheat like he had.
Though was it really cheating when they'd never put a label on whatever it was they were doing together?
She'd tried to break the ice on his birthday with a text but all she'd gotten back was a curt thanks five days later.
Nero rolled over onto her side and stared at her gym bag. She could get up and try to work out some of this aching disappointment and sadness inside of her the way she had before right after she and Tom had broken up. She could get dressed and head to the gym and deal with this like a normal human.
Or she could go back to sleep.
Nero dug a hand into the pocket of her jeans and palmed the sleeping pill nestled into the lining. She'd pocketed a handful of them from her mother's medicine cabinet before she'd left and she was down to just a few left.
She'd already slept through most of the day, choosing to hide in sleep rather than face the world. One more pill could buy her at least twelve more hours of not having to deal with the shit pile her life had become.
It didn't take her longer than a few seconds to make her decision and she tucked the little white pill into her mouth and swallowed it down without an ounce of regret.
She'd wake up tomorrow and still be a shitty wrestler, a shitty mother, a shitty person but for now… she wouldn't have to deal with it.
----------
“I've faced Ryan LeCavalier before. Not in a wrestling ring, but I've faced her in MLC. Two sides of the same brutal coin. It didn't end well for me, but you probably guessed that.”
The Nero Darling sitting in front of the camera is flat; almost one dimensional when you compared her to the bouncy girl who usually appeared on Twitter and her face to face promos.
“Nothing really ends well for me. Not lately, anyway. That's just a fact and not some woe is me cry for help. Because the truth is I've read everything everyone is saying. I've read everything Ryan has said. That I should just walk away after this and maybe I should.”
She licks her lips, ducking her head and not making direct eye contact with the camera. Everything about her is pared down, no make up on her face and a plain black tank top. “Maybe I should walk away and hope that no one remembers me in a few months. But I don't know how to do that when wrestling is the only thing that's ever made me happy.
Or, I guess, it did once.”
She shrugs, her words almost mechanical. “I'm not good at much. I tried college and I hated it. I tried waiting tables and I sucked at it. I used to be good at fighting, which is funny because I'd never been able to stand up to a bully in my life.
I was decent at MLC but nothing to write home about.”
She pauses, grappling for the words that tangle up inside of her. “But I don't want to walk away yet. So the Ryan LeCavaliers of the world are going to have to deal with me for a little bit longer.
I've given up on a lot of things in my life because I'm not good at standing my ground. I’m terrible at following through because it's easier to give up and I've taken the easy way in everything.
I've run when I should have stayed. I've let people push me away when I should have fought. I've let people walk all over me when I should have pushed back.
And if I keep doing that… if I keep taking the easy way out, what's the point of living? If I never stand up for anything or push myself harder why even bother?”
Nero brushes a stray hair out of her face as she finally lifts her blue eyes to the camera. “I’ll walk out there again and again and humiliate myself with every loss. I'll throw away whatever shred of dignity I have for this business because if I give up on this too because it was too hard or because I hate losing or because I'm embarrassed then who am I?”
She swallows hard, “What's the point of waking up every morning if there isn't even one thing that I don't take the easy way in?”
“I don't have the answer to that. I don't know what the point is,” she sighs softly. “I'm not going to sit here and lie and tell you there's no way Ryan can beat me. Because she has. A lot of people have.
But I'm going to keep getting back up until I can't anymore. This is my line in the sand. I've given up on college, I've let friendships and relationships that meant the world to me die because I was too afraid to fight for them.
But I'm not afraid anymore.
I'm not afraid because this is rock bottom and there's nothing left that can scare me.”
She leaned forward and shut the camera off abruptly, uploading it to YouTube before she had a chance to second guess posting something so raw.
It had felt more like being back in the confessional at her dad’s church more than it had felt like a promo. She'd peeled open her skin and invited the crows to come pick her bones clean and she had no doubt they would.
The truth, though, was that she was too numb to care. It wasn't about a lack of fear and more just a lack of anything.
But she'd keep walking into the ring until she finally remembered how to be herself.