The Call
Nov 10, 2016 20:58:56 GMT -5
Post by Savannah Taylor on Nov 10, 2016 20:58:56 GMT -5
Saturday, October 29th, 2016
Springfield, Illinois
OFF CAMERA
A thousand and one thoughts go through the mind of a wrestler when the match is over. Each thought, whether it be positive or negative, stick with someone long after the crowds have gone home and they have retreated to the safety and solitude of their hotel rooms. Backstage chatter, from workers or the other wrestlers themselves, affect people differently. Some take it with a grain of salt and let it slide off their shoulders. But for others, they don’t have as easy of a time. Things people say or even do tend to stick with them for a while.
The action out in the Prairie Convention Center was still going strong as the backstage area teamed with activity. The remaining matches of the tournament to crown a new FGA World Champion were continuing out in the main arena. Walking down the hall, somewhat slowly, is the figure of Savannah Taylor. Having come off of a loss in what many were calling a show stealing match to Izzy Anders, she was making the proverbial long walk to the locker room to lick her wounds and regroup. She takes a drawn out sip from the plastic water bottle she carried in her right hand as she reaches the door leading to her locker room. Turning the cool metal handle, she steps inside the small space and shuts the door behind her. She plunks down on the wooden bench and leans back against the cool wall behind her. Her moment of rest is stopped when she hears the faint sounds of The Rains Of Castamere coming from the faded pink duffel bag that was nestled at her feet. The song was the ringtone associated with her sister, whom she had not spoken to in a month and a half. She leans forward and rustles through her bag until she pulls out her gold colored iPhone 6S Plus. Entering in her passcode to unlock the phone, she presses the talk button and raises it up to her ear.
Savannah Taylor: Hey Harper.
Harper Taylor: Hey yourself.
Savannah Taylor: How….how are you?
Harper Taylor: Outside of school and sorority stuff, I’m doing okay. How about you?
Savannah Taylor: Busy as always.
There is a somewhat awkward pause as the younger woman on the other end of the line clears her throat.
Harper Taylor: Listen, I have to get this out and if I don’t do it now, I may never have the chance.
Savannah Taylor: It’s okay.
Harper Taylor: I owe you an apology. How I’ve treated you, my own flesh and blood, it’s not m at all. I acted out in the heat of the moment and I treated you like crap because of it.
Her sister was referring to the literal silent treatment Savannah had received because of an event that took place not long after her birthday. She could still picture the scene at her father’s house, how he was in a vulnerable state after the loss of his wife, Savannah’s mother. The madman Magnus Gunner found his way into the house and what he did, how he got into her father’s head was enough to boil her blood. After that incident, communication between her sister, father and herself had ceased. Until now,, that is.
Savannah Taylor: In retrospect, I understand why you did what you did. You had to watch as some psycho made his way into your home and got under our father’s skin. It wasn’t something you could control. Hell, I didn’t know what he was going to do. So please, stop beating yourself up over this. If anyone should have, and did, beat themselves up over this, it’s been me.
Harper Taylor: Do what now?
Savannah Taylor: Think about it. The guy had been targeting me ever since the crap went down in San Diego. He shows up out of whatever hole he was buried under and I’m number one on his hitlist. I had to deal with the fact that I basically let this happen to Dad and also to you. Hopefully what I went through at Retribution was enough to put him away for good.
Harper listens on the other end of the line as she hears the hurt in her sister’s voice.
Harper Taylor: Listen. There is NO reason why you should have, and I’m gathering you STILL are beating yourself up over this. This was something that was out of your control. But it’s over and done with. You did what you had to do to get rid of a ghost from your past, and you did it well.
Savannah Taylor: You don’t know how much I appreciate hearing that. And thank you for reaching out to me.
Harper Taylor: Hey, we’re family. It’s what we do.
Savannah Taylor: I just wish I could get through to Dad.
Harper Taylor: He’s not talking to you?
Savannah Taylor: Not since...you know. And I’ve tried time after time, but he’s not answering.
Savannah heard her sister sigh on the other end of the line
Harper Taylor: I’m surprised, really. Listen, I’m about to head out. Function with my sorority sisters. I just wanted to reach out to you and let you know I don’t hate you. Also, let me work on Dad. You take care of yourself, okay?
Savannah Taylor: I will, and thank you. Have fun and be safe, okay?
Harper Taylor: I will. Love you sis.
Savannah Taylor: Love you too.
She presses the red button and ends the call. Slipping it back into her bag, she leans back once again. Only this time, she leaned back with a smile on her face. She had repaired one bridge that she thought was fractured beyond repair. That was enough to take some of the sting of losing to Izzy away. There were still more hurdles to overcome and more things to fix. But she was headed in the right direction…..for once.
I’m just going to cut right down to the chase. Two weeks ago in Illinois….things didn’t exactly go the way I had hoped they would. Sure, the tag team phase of this tournament went fine. Izzy and I actually made it through the match without killing each other. Small miracles, people. But when it came down to the quarterfinals, she got the better of me. I’m woman enough to admit that Izzy Anders was the better woman that night. I saw something in her that night that I haven’t seen in especially myself. I saw hunger. I saw desire. I saw a woman who was sick and tired of how things are around here and did everything she needed to in order to get ahead.
Congratulations, Izzy. Just do me a favor and win this whole damn tournament. Be the last person standing and hold that title high over your head.
Now, we move on to other matters. The big Five Year Anniversary show. I’m thrilled to be a part of it. What I am LESS than thrilled about is the fact that I have to face someone I just came off of beating and can’t seem to shake no matter how badly I try.
How you doing, Salem?
Haven’t we done this same song and dance routine before? No matter how many weeks or even months pass, we always seem to circle back around to each other. Aren’t you getting just a WEE bit tired of it? God knows I am. But there is nothing either of us can do about it and so….here we are.
I honestly don’t know what else to say about you that hasn’t already been said. I mean, I’ve already congratulated you on beating the Patron Saint of Starbucks and becoming Mid Atlantic Legacy champion. I’ve pulled every cliché play in the book, so that is out.
How about I tell you a little bit about me, seeing as how you fancy yourself all knowing.
Do you know what it is like to wake up every morning, look at yourself in the mirror and absolutely hate the reflection that is staring back at you? Do you know what it is like to go through day to day events completely and utterly alone? I bet you one hundred dollars that you don’t. You don’t know what it is like to go from having all the confidence in the world and to having everyone believe in you and want to see you get ahead in this business…..to being an island unto yourself. And let’s not even talk about life OUTSIDE of the ring. That is a story for another date and time.
I wanted to beat Izzy Anders so fucking badly, Salem. I wanted to be the one to face Cordy Stevenson and to finally have something go right in my life for a change. Instead, I’m going to have to live with the fact that I’m not moving on in the tournament and I have to face off against you for the umpteenth time.
But don’t worry. Just because I’m disappointed doesn’t mean I’m taking you lightly, so get that notion out of your head.
I’m using this match as a means to prove myself, just like I’ve done time and time again. If beating you sends a message to people that hey, maybe she’s worth a damn after all, then so fucking be it. I have no problem tapping into whatever inner strength I may have to take you to the limit and hammer you from pillar to post. I know you are planning on doing the same and to that I say….bring it on. Just don’t come crying to you wifey when things don’t go your way.
Deuces….witch.
Friday, November 11th, 2016
Atlantic City, New Jersey
OFF CAMERA
The elevator made a soft ping sound as it stopped on the fifth floor of the hotel in Atlantic City. Stepping off of the elevator, wheeling a black suitcase behind her, was a tired looking Savannah Taylor. She had been up early this morning to make last minute preparations for her flight from Las Vegas to New Jersey. She didn’t get any sleep on the plane, but that was nothing new. She heaves a somewhat relieved sigh as she steps out onto the carpeted hallway and looks to either side of her before heading off in the direction of her room. Stopping in front of the correct door, she slips the keycard into the lock and waits for the light to turn green before turning the knob. Stepping inside, she quickly slides her shoes off and sets her bag down just inside the door as she shuts it behind her. No sooner had she stepped inside her room for the next couple of days when her back pocket toned out the familiar iPhone ringtone. Rolling her eyes, she pulls it out of her pocket and presses the green button to answer it.
Savannah Taylor: Hello?
Unknown voice: Yes, have I reached Savannah Taylor:
Savannah Taylor: Yes you have. Who is calling?
Unknown voice: My name is Deputy Cartwright with the Clark County Sherriff’s Department.
Hearing that office title caused Savannah to sit down on her bed.
Savannah Taylor: How may I help you?
Deputy Cartwright: I’m afraid I have some news for you regarding your father. He was found unresponsive In his home a few hours ago. Medical personnel tried all they could, but they couldn’t revive him. I’m sorry to inform you that….he’s gone.
Her world stopped at that moment. She was twenty four hours away from a major match, and the carpet had been pulled out from underneath her. She slipped off the bed and fell to the floor, letting the tears fall down. How was she going to be able to go on now? Time would tell.
Springfield, Illinois
OFF CAMERA
A thousand and one thoughts go through the mind of a wrestler when the match is over. Each thought, whether it be positive or negative, stick with someone long after the crowds have gone home and they have retreated to the safety and solitude of their hotel rooms. Backstage chatter, from workers or the other wrestlers themselves, affect people differently. Some take it with a grain of salt and let it slide off their shoulders. But for others, they don’t have as easy of a time. Things people say or even do tend to stick with them for a while.
The action out in the Prairie Convention Center was still going strong as the backstage area teamed with activity. The remaining matches of the tournament to crown a new FGA World Champion were continuing out in the main arena. Walking down the hall, somewhat slowly, is the figure of Savannah Taylor. Having come off of a loss in what many were calling a show stealing match to Izzy Anders, she was making the proverbial long walk to the locker room to lick her wounds and regroup. She takes a drawn out sip from the plastic water bottle she carried in her right hand as she reaches the door leading to her locker room. Turning the cool metal handle, she steps inside the small space and shuts the door behind her. She plunks down on the wooden bench and leans back against the cool wall behind her. Her moment of rest is stopped when she hears the faint sounds of The Rains Of Castamere coming from the faded pink duffel bag that was nestled at her feet. The song was the ringtone associated with her sister, whom she had not spoken to in a month and a half. She leans forward and rustles through her bag until she pulls out her gold colored iPhone 6S Plus. Entering in her passcode to unlock the phone, she presses the talk button and raises it up to her ear.
Savannah Taylor: Hey Harper.
Harper Taylor: Hey yourself.
Savannah Taylor: How….how are you?
Harper Taylor: Outside of school and sorority stuff, I’m doing okay. How about you?
Savannah Taylor: Busy as always.
There is a somewhat awkward pause as the younger woman on the other end of the line clears her throat.
Harper Taylor: Listen, I have to get this out and if I don’t do it now, I may never have the chance.
Savannah Taylor: It’s okay.
Harper Taylor: I owe you an apology. How I’ve treated you, my own flesh and blood, it’s not m at all. I acted out in the heat of the moment and I treated you like crap because of it.
Her sister was referring to the literal silent treatment Savannah had received because of an event that took place not long after her birthday. She could still picture the scene at her father’s house, how he was in a vulnerable state after the loss of his wife, Savannah’s mother. The madman Magnus Gunner found his way into the house and what he did, how he got into her father’s head was enough to boil her blood. After that incident, communication between her sister, father and herself had ceased. Until now,, that is.
Savannah Taylor: In retrospect, I understand why you did what you did. You had to watch as some psycho made his way into your home and got under our father’s skin. It wasn’t something you could control. Hell, I didn’t know what he was going to do. So please, stop beating yourself up over this. If anyone should have, and did, beat themselves up over this, it’s been me.
Harper Taylor: Do what now?
Savannah Taylor: Think about it. The guy had been targeting me ever since the crap went down in San Diego. He shows up out of whatever hole he was buried under and I’m number one on his hitlist. I had to deal with the fact that I basically let this happen to Dad and also to you. Hopefully what I went through at Retribution was enough to put him away for good.
Harper listens on the other end of the line as she hears the hurt in her sister’s voice.
Harper Taylor: Listen. There is NO reason why you should have, and I’m gathering you STILL are beating yourself up over this. This was something that was out of your control. But it’s over and done with. You did what you had to do to get rid of a ghost from your past, and you did it well.
Savannah Taylor: You don’t know how much I appreciate hearing that. And thank you for reaching out to me.
Harper Taylor: Hey, we’re family. It’s what we do.
Savannah Taylor: I just wish I could get through to Dad.
Harper Taylor: He’s not talking to you?
Savannah Taylor: Not since...you know. And I’ve tried time after time, but he’s not answering.
Savannah heard her sister sigh on the other end of the line
Harper Taylor: I’m surprised, really. Listen, I’m about to head out. Function with my sorority sisters. I just wanted to reach out to you and let you know I don’t hate you. Also, let me work on Dad. You take care of yourself, okay?
Savannah Taylor: I will, and thank you. Have fun and be safe, okay?
Harper Taylor: I will. Love you sis.
Savannah Taylor: Love you too.
She presses the red button and ends the call. Slipping it back into her bag, she leans back once again. Only this time, she leaned back with a smile on her face. She had repaired one bridge that she thought was fractured beyond repair. That was enough to take some of the sting of losing to Izzy away. There were still more hurdles to overcome and more things to fix. But she was headed in the right direction…..for once.
I’m just going to cut right down to the chase. Two weeks ago in Illinois….things didn’t exactly go the way I had hoped they would. Sure, the tag team phase of this tournament went fine. Izzy and I actually made it through the match without killing each other. Small miracles, people. But when it came down to the quarterfinals, she got the better of me. I’m woman enough to admit that Izzy Anders was the better woman that night. I saw something in her that night that I haven’t seen in especially myself. I saw hunger. I saw desire. I saw a woman who was sick and tired of how things are around here and did everything she needed to in order to get ahead.
Congratulations, Izzy. Just do me a favor and win this whole damn tournament. Be the last person standing and hold that title high over your head.
Now, we move on to other matters. The big Five Year Anniversary show. I’m thrilled to be a part of it. What I am LESS than thrilled about is the fact that I have to face someone I just came off of beating and can’t seem to shake no matter how badly I try.
How you doing, Salem?
Haven’t we done this same song and dance routine before? No matter how many weeks or even months pass, we always seem to circle back around to each other. Aren’t you getting just a WEE bit tired of it? God knows I am. But there is nothing either of us can do about it and so….here we are.
I honestly don’t know what else to say about you that hasn’t already been said. I mean, I’ve already congratulated you on beating the Patron Saint of Starbucks and becoming Mid Atlantic Legacy champion. I’ve pulled every cliché play in the book, so that is out.
How about I tell you a little bit about me, seeing as how you fancy yourself all knowing.
Do you know what it is like to wake up every morning, look at yourself in the mirror and absolutely hate the reflection that is staring back at you? Do you know what it is like to go through day to day events completely and utterly alone? I bet you one hundred dollars that you don’t. You don’t know what it is like to go from having all the confidence in the world and to having everyone believe in you and want to see you get ahead in this business…..to being an island unto yourself. And let’s not even talk about life OUTSIDE of the ring. That is a story for another date and time.
I wanted to beat Izzy Anders so fucking badly, Salem. I wanted to be the one to face Cordy Stevenson and to finally have something go right in my life for a change. Instead, I’m going to have to live with the fact that I’m not moving on in the tournament and I have to face off against you for the umpteenth time.
But don’t worry. Just because I’m disappointed doesn’t mean I’m taking you lightly, so get that notion out of your head.
I’m using this match as a means to prove myself, just like I’ve done time and time again. If beating you sends a message to people that hey, maybe she’s worth a damn after all, then so fucking be it. I have no problem tapping into whatever inner strength I may have to take you to the limit and hammer you from pillar to post. I know you are planning on doing the same and to that I say….bring it on. Just don’t come crying to you wifey when things don’t go your way.
Deuces….witch.
Friday, November 11th, 2016
Atlantic City, New Jersey
OFF CAMERA
The elevator made a soft ping sound as it stopped on the fifth floor of the hotel in Atlantic City. Stepping off of the elevator, wheeling a black suitcase behind her, was a tired looking Savannah Taylor. She had been up early this morning to make last minute preparations for her flight from Las Vegas to New Jersey. She didn’t get any sleep on the plane, but that was nothing new. She heaves a somewhat relieved sigh as she steps out onto the carpeted hallway and looks to either side of her before heading off in the direction of her room. Stopping in front of the correct door, she slips the keycard into the lock and waits for the light to turn green before turning the knob. Stepping inside, she quickly slides her shoes off and sets her bag down just inside the door as she shuts it behind her. No sooner had she stepped inside her room for the next couple of days when her back pocket toned out the familiar iPhone ringtone. Rolling her eyes, she pulls it out of her pocket and presses the green button to answer it.
Savannah Taylor: Hello?
Unknown voice: Yes, have I reached Savannah Taylor:
Savannah Taylor: Yes you have. Who is calling?
Unknown voice: My name is Deputy Cartwright with the Clark County Sherriff’s Department.
Hearing that office title caused Savannah to sit down on her bed.
Savannah Taylor: How may I help you?
Deputy Cartwright: I’m afraid I have some news for you regarding your father. He was found unresponsive In his home a few hours ago. Medical personnel tried all they could, but they couldn’t revive him. I’m sorry to inform you that….he’s gone.
Her world stopped at that moment. She was twenty four hours away from a major match, and the carpet had been pulled out from underneath her. She slipped off the bed and fell to the floor, letting the tears fall down. How was she going to be able to go on now? Time would tell.