NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING

Brooke_Williams: the lights dim, my music hit, the instrumental version of Edge of Seventeen blares across the speakers. I enter the Hammerstein Ballroom. Not my usual confident self. Since losing the NOIR championship I have been on a bad losing streak. Getting defeated by Sara Leon in her debut. Losing my hair... having to walk around with my head bald and now in an awkwardly short style as it grows back in. I have gone from the main event to opening the show, last month. Now again this month. Having to face someone making her debut. I hit the ring and pose to the fans as I get introduced "From Point Pleasant NJ weighing 100 pounds, she is the Center of Attention Brooke Williams" I get a polite response... although nowhere near as big as when I was champion. I remove my shiny jacket and hat... getting a few laughs from the fans as they see my short hair. I head to my corner and pull on the top rope as I await my opponent. Someone I know very little about

 

Lauren_James: The Hammerstein Ballroom is a vibrating wall of noise. This is it: my first night flying solo, even though you’re right there by my side. Behind the curtain, I’m squeezing your hand so hard my knuckles are white, but one look at your calm, steady smile and I feel the fire settle in my chest. I’m ready. The bass for "Iggy Azalea - Fancy" kicks in, and the crowd goes electric. "She is the Heiress of Manhattan, accompanied by Hana Jeong, from the Big Apple... LAUREN JAAAAMEEEEES!" I step through the curtain and the persona takes over instantly. I’m all bratty confidence, swaggering down the ramp in my Ray-Bans, acting like I own every square inch of this building. I high-five a few fans and snub a few others just to keep them guessing. We slide into the ring, and I stand in the center, gesturing wildly between us. "YES, BABY! THE REAL DEAL IS HERE!" I scream over the roar, my voice lost in the chaos but my message loud and clear. I lean back against the turnbuckle, popping a bubble with my gum and peering over the rims of my sunglasses. I know you are a former champ, a legend in this ring, but I’m not the scared girl who got locked out of her penthouse anymore. I’m a wrestler now and I have my girl Hana at ringside.

 

 

 

Hana_Jeong: I go discreetly to ringside. This is her night and I'm nervous for her but also with my heart full of proud. "C'mon Lauren, you got this!" I shout to the ring.

Brooke_Williams: I am a bit caught off guard as I see Hana coming to the ring with you. I know Hana has had it in for me since I defeated her. A vice to her especially since the match got more recognition recently being voted match of the week. There is a part of me that wondered if Hana is sending others to do something she couldn't do herself... I glare at Hana for a moment...then switch my attention to Lauren. There is certainly a confidence beaming off her that I currently lack. I noticed her long blonde hair and rub my own buzz cut. The feeling of the short hair making me frustrated. I try to channel that as I move towards the center of the ring. Waiting for the bell to ring as I size up my opponent

Lauren_James: I don't even wait for the bell to stop ringing. I step right into your space, towering over you with a smirk that says I’ve already won. Up close, you look even smaller than you did on the tapes. I start circling you like a shark, my heels clicking sharply on the canvas. I reach out and dismissively shove your head with the palm of my hand, forcing you to stumble back a step. "Is this the legendary former champion?" I drawl, loud enough for the front row to hear. "A little tomboy who can't even fill out her gear?" I stop dead in my tracks, my eyes cold and predatory behind my sunglasses. Before you can even set your feet, I coil back and deliver a massive, ringing slap across your face. The sound echoes through the entire Ballroom. "You are pathetic," I spit, not even bothering to put my hands up yet. I just stand there, chewing my gum, waiting for you to realize that your "glory days" ended the second I walked through that curtain.

Brooke_Williams: you get closer...and damn my poker face...you can see right through me. You can sense my lack of confidence from across the ring. Now that you are in my face, towering above me. It's even more evident. There is a murmur in the crowd, they stir in anticipation of what their hero..the former champion...is going to do to shut up this cockey newcomer. Just as I go to reach my hands up you palm my forehead, sending me stumbling back a few steps. I straighted myself up and move towards you in anger now. My face a bit red from embarrassment and frustration. As I step forward my head is suddenly snapped to the side. A slap which silences the building, and sends me stepping back to the ropes. The force hard enough to make my ears ring, my cheek buzz, as a huge red mark appears. I take another step back, rubbing my cheek as I try to clear my head. Watching you so arrogantly chew your gum...and all I can think about is wanting to make you choke on it

Lauren_James: I can see the fire in your eyes, but it’s a flickering flame compared to the bonfire I’ve got going. I read the desperation in your gaze—I know you want to make me choke on this gum, but wanting and doing are two very different things in my world. I don't give you a second to breathe. I bridge the gap between us again, looming over you with a sneer that’s pure poison. "What are you going to do besides looking at me with that stupid face? Uh?" I taunt, my voice dripping with luxury and disdain. I start hitting you with quick, humiliating little slaps—snap, snap, snap—not enough to knock you down, just enough to sting your pride and keep your head rattling. Then, I reach out and violently squeeze your cheek, digging my manicured nails into your skin as I force you to look up at me. "Uh... what are you going to do??" I demand, my face inches from yours. "You’re nothing but a relic, Brooke. A hand-me-down champion. Are you going to cry? Or are you going to show me why anyone ever gave you a belt in the first place?" I give your cheek one final, rough shake before shoving your head back toward the turnbuckle.

Hana_Jeong: "C'mon Lauren, stop playing and start wrestling". I whisper to myself as I look back and see the crowd getting impatient for ring action.

Brooke_Williams: I was in my own head before the match. Now you are quickly getting into my head. The slap bruised my face and my ego, and now they keep coming, your words cut into me like a knife. Those little slaps...paint brushing me back and forth. I lift my hands up trying to block them, then you grab my cheeks. For nails digging into my jaw as I grimace and make a fish face. I reach my hands up and place them on your wrists trying to pry your fingers away. Just then you shake my head and shove me back into the corner. My face displaying the finger marks from you. I reach up to see if you scratched me open...then I glare your way and leave out a primal scream as I lounge out of the corner toward you. Looking to drive my shoulder into your midsection with a spear

Lauren_James: I watch you snap. The primal scream, the desperate lung toward me it’s exactly what I wanted. You’re wrestling with emotion, and that makes you sloppy. As you charge for the spear, looking to drive your shoulder into my ribs, I don't even flinch. You hit me, but I’m a wall. You’re too light, too weak to take me off my feet. I catch your momentum, my arms wrapping around your waist like a vice before you can even register that I haven't moved an inch. "Is that all you've got?" I hiss. I lift you effortlessly, hoisting your small frame into the air. I bend my lead knee, bracing myself, and then I drive you down with sickening force. I drop you abs-first across my hard kneecap in a brutal inverted backbreaker. I feel the air leave your lungs in a pathetic gasp as your body folds over my leg. I don't hold the pose for long. I don't give you the dignity of a formal move. I simply shove you off my leg, letting you crumple onto the mat like a piece of trash I'm done with. I stand over you, smoothing my hair and adjusting my gear, looking down at you with cruel intents.

Brooke_Williams: I charge towards you full steam...intent on taking you down. I can here the fans going wild. Thinking the champion is back in gear. I connect with your body and my momentum is stopped dead in its tracks. The crowd gasps then goes silent, before I have a second thought I feel your arms squeezing my waist as I am lifted into the air. Just as fast as I go up I come crashing down. My soft stomach landing right across your knee. I gasp out loud as the air is pushed from my lungs. You then push me off, I slide down your leg and crash into the mat with a thud. Clutching my stomach in pain...my legs kicking as I lay on my side. My face inches from your Sharp white boots. I can see you out of the corner of my eye adjusting your hair and gear like you haven't a care in the world... while I am nearly in the fetal position trying to catch my breath

Lauren_James: I look down at you with a mixture of disgust and pure, cold boredom. You’re lying there at my feet, gasping for air like a fish out of water, staring at my boots as if they’re the last thing you’ll ever see. "What are you looking at?" I sneer. I don't even wait for an answer. I lift my foot and press the sole of my white boot firmly against your cheek, grinding it into the mat as if I’m trying to rub a smudge off the leather. I give your head a final, disrespectful shove with my foot, then immediately pull back and drive the point of my boot into your ribs with a vicious kick. The sound of my boot connecting with your side is sickeningly loud. I want every person in this ballroom to hear the air leave your lungs again. I want them to see their "hero" reduced to a punching bag. I turn my head slightly toward the corner where Hana is standing, giving her a quick, arrogant smirk. Then I turn back to you, looming over your curled-up body, ready to end this pathetic display of "championship" spirit.

Brooke_Williams: Every breath I take is a struggle. My ribs hurting with each gasp. I reach out my one hand looking to grab your boot and pull myself up. Just as I reach for it you stomp down on my face. The sole of your boot grinding my face into the mat. My legs kicking up as you do. The move was more to humiliate me as you literally walk on my face. And it works, although the next move is intended to hurt. You punt your foot into me like a football. The sickening thud echoes through the ballroom. The force actually lifted me off the mat as I head towards the ropes. My body flying forward a few inches, as I come to rest on my side... eventually rolling onto my back as I stare at the ceiling seeing stars

Lauren_James: Seeing you stare at the ceiling, glassy-eyed and broken, just makes me want to twist the knife deeper. You aren't a champion anymore; you're just a floor mat for my brand-new career. I walk over to your limp body, not with haste, but with the slow, predatory grace of someone who knows they’ve already won. I reach down and grab you by that buzz-cut hair, fisting my hand into the short strands and violently yanking your head up off the canvas so you're forced to look at me. "Look at me, Brooke," I hiss, my face inches from yours. "Look at the girl who’s ending you." I don't let go. Instead, I drag you across the ring by your hair, your body trailing behind like a ragdoll. When we reach the center, I pull you up onto your knees, only to drive a series of stiff, rapid-fire knees directly into your face and chest. Thud. Thud. Thud. I let go of your hair, and as you start to slump, I catch your head between my legs and snap you down into a vicious DDT, spiking your skull directly into the mat. I don't go for the cover. I stand up, stepping over your unconscious-looking form, and look at the referee with a bored expression. "Is that all the former champion has? Really?" I walk back to your head and, with a cold, calculated precision, I drop a heavy running leg drop right across your throat, cutting off whatever little air you had left. I stay there for a second, my weight crushing your windpipe, just staring at the crowd as they scream in horror. This isn't a match anymore. This is a public execution.

Brooke_Williams: My eyes are glazed over as I look up to the beautiful ceiling of the Hammerstein Ballroom. My ear ringing and a dull pain in my stomach from the knee drop. Just then your face is in mine, you mock me as you chew your gum. I can barely make out your words over the ringing in my ears...but I note that arrogant chewing off the gum. Then I feel my scalp burning as you dig your fingers in and drag me across the ring. I kick my legs trying to keep up. You finally reach the middle and you force me to my knees. My body wobbling as you unleash knees into my face, my chest. Each one hitting me with a loud smack or a thud...my body looking like a flag in the wind, flapping back and forth as you hold me in place, by the hair. You finally release my hair and I instantly slump forward. Directly into you, You drive me into the mat with a DDT. My head hits the mat hard as I feel a sharp pain for just a split second. Them my entire body goes limp. I roll onto my back, my arms splayed out, my legs laying limp across each other. My head tilted to the side with drool running from my mouth. You see this heap and decide I don't deserve to breathe the same air you do. Driving your knee across my throat. The impact causing me to exhale all the air from my body. That combined with the drool makes it look like I am foaming from the mouth like a rapid dog. My body convulsing from the lack of air as you push your knee into my throat

Lauren_James: I look down at the mess I’ve made of you, the drool and the twitching, and I feel a surge of pure revulsion. You aren't even a challenge; you're just a stain on my canvas. "You are disgusting," I mutter, the words dripping with more venom, I don't want this to end with you lying down. I want to break you standing up. I grab you by the back of your head, my fingers digging into your scalp again, and use my other hand to hook the back of your trunks. With a surge of cruel, adrenaline-fueled strength, I hoist your limp weight up and launch you. I send you hurtling across the ring with terrifying violence. You hit the turnbuckles chest-first, the impact rattling the entire ring frame. You hang there, draped over the ropes like a discarded coat, your back completely exposed to me. I look over at Hana and give her a cold, sharp nod. I’m not just winning; I’m erasing a former champion. I start walking toward you, my boots heavy on the mat, ready to deliver the final blow to whatever is left of your spirit.

Brooke_Williams: my eye roll back into my head as you choke me under your knee. You call me disgusting as spit onto your knee pad as I gasp for air. You finally get up and I gasp for air, coughing as fresh air can finally enter my lungs. I am jerked to my feet as you yank my hair and tights. You throw me into.the corner. With such force that I hit face first. The impact shifting the ring. I drape over the top ropes, my arms hanging out of the ring. My feet off the ground, my ribs feeling like the were cracked from impact. My body aching like I was in a front end collision car crash. My head lifts up for a second as I try to focus my eyes. I try holding my head up...but I groan weekly as my head falls down and lays on the top turn buckle. My body slumped down in the corner, help up only by the ropes

Lauren_James: I look down at my knee pad and see the slick, glistening smear of your drool. A jolt of pure, unadulterated fury zips through me. This custom gear cost more than your entire career, and you’ve managed to foul it with your pathetic gasping. "You disgusting piece of shit!" I scream, the sound tearing through the noise of the crowd. I don't care about the win anymore; I want to break your spine. I back up, retreating halfway across the ring to gain maximum momentum. You’re still draped there, helpless, your lower back exposed and your ribs already shattered from the impact of the turnbuckle. I take off in a sprint, my boots thundering against the canvas. I launch myself into the air, tucking my knees and then exploding outward with a vicious running dropkick. Both of my soles connect squarely with the small of your back, driving your internal organs into the padded steel of the corner. The impact is so violent it nearly sends me flying backward from the recoil, while you’re pinned there for a split second by the force before collapsing into a heap on the floor. I land on my feet, stumbling slightly, and immediately start wiping my knee pad with a look of utter loathing, not even glancing at your crumpled body.

Brooke_Williams: I am nearly out as I hang in the corner. My tongue hanging out as I drool on the top rope. The camera zooms in getting a close up of my crosses eyes. The camera quickly zooms at...just in time to catch your sprint. You charge across the ring and drive your feet into my back. The force enough to get an ummpppphhhh from me. My head springs up for a moment as spit flies from my mouth. My body crushed into the turn buckle. I bounce off if it then crumble to the mat. Almost like a pile of dirty clothes getting tossed into the corner of the room. My body lads in a lifeless heap. Weak groans of pain coming from my mouth

Lauren_James: I look down at you, and the sight is genuinely revolting. There is a literal puddle of drool forming on the canvas around your head, mixing with the sweat and the grime of the mat. "Omg, look at you," I say, stepping over your head with a look of pure theatrical disgust, careful not to let my boots touch the mess you've made. "You are really a stinky mess. It’s embarrassing to even be in the same ring as you." I don't go for a cover. I don't go for a submission. I want to feel the air leave your body one last time. I climb the turnbuckle, my eyes locked on your exposed, soft midsection. I reach the top, standing tall and looking out at the crowd with a sadistic, triumphant grin. Then, I jump. I don't tuck for a splash or a senton. I stay upright, landing with all my weight both feet first directly onto your belly. I want to feel your ribs groan and your stomach compress under my kickpads. I want to stomp the very life out of the former champion. I bounce off your body from the impact and land back on the mat.

Hana_Jeong: I stay frozen with my elbows propped against the apron, my knuckles white as I grip the canvas. There is a cold, calculated venom in the way you’re moving. You aren't just winning; you’re playing with your food like a cat with a broken bird. I watch you stomp onto her belly with both feet, and I can hear the sickening oof from Brooke all the way out here. The crowd is a chaotic mess of boos and cheers, but you’re feeding off it, glowing under the lights in a way I’ve never seen. It’s like the "Lauren" who ate bagels with me this morning was just a mask, and this is the person underneath. I can’t watch it anymore. I lean in, my face just inches from yours as you stand over her mangled body, and I whisper through the noise, my voice urgent and low. "Lauren, just put her out of her misery please," I plead, my eyes searching yours for a hint of the girl who was laughing in the loft. "It's enough. She’s broken. Just pin her."

Brooke_Williams: I don't even look like a competitive wrestler anymore as I lay in a beaten pile. Even in my position I can sense your disgust at sharing the ring with me. Laying in my own drool as you step over me. I look up as you climb the top rope... Even I could speak I may just quit at this moment. I know I am beaten, I know I have met my match and then some. Then you simply jump down. Your feet stomping my belly like I was a bug...your soles digging into my stomach. I feel my ribs shift around. I cough and gasp. Spitting up, some landing on your heels and more dripping back down into my own face. You step off me and I roll to my side. Coughing up a pink mixture of salvia and blood

Lauren_James: I look over at Hana, seeing the genuine concern etched on her face, and I just offer a wide, sparkling smile the kind I used to give the paparazzi after a scandal. "Hey, relax!" I call out over the roar of the crowd, my voice breezy and light. "I'm just playing a bit! I'm not doing anything illegal!" I let out a sharp, jagged laugh that cuts through the boos. I glance at the referee, an older woman whose eyes are wide with a mix of professional duty and personal horror. She looks like she’s about to cry for you. I roll my eyes at her. "Fine, fine. Let’s see if this pile of shit wants to stop." I don't go for the pin. That’s too easy. I want to hear you quit. I grab your twitching, limp legs and pull you into the center of the ring. I step through and turn, locking you into a vicious, agonizing Texas Cloverleaf. I don't ease into it. I snap my hips back and arch my spine with everything I have. I’m on my knees, pulling your legs so far back that the back of my head almost touches the soles of my own feet. The pressure on your lower back and your shattered ribs must be blinding. I’m not even looking for the tap; I’m just enjoying the feeling of your spine screaming under my power. I scream full of anger

Brooke_Williams: this is now your ring and it has been for a while now. There is a part of me that just hopes you forget about me. Perhaps show mercy. I try to will my body to roll onto my back, thinking that would give you the invitation to pin me and end this suffering. I will myself once again to turn on my back...then I am wisked away...did I do this?? I ponder for a moment until I realized that you are dragging me to the center of the ring. I am so far beyond controlling my body that I am just scrapped along the mat until you get me where you want me. You twist my body anyway you please as you lock me into the Cloverleaf. The pain shooting through my body instantly. I open my mouth to scream yet nothing comes, except a mouthful of salvia and blood. Finally with that clear I can vocalize a blood curdling scream. I have rediscovered my ability to form words and I waste no time in screaming I QUIT!!!!! I QUIT!!! please!!!!! " just to drive home my desperation I pound on the mat also tapping out.

Lauren_James: The referee is practically frantic, digging her shoulder into my side to pry me off your broken body. The bell is clanging incessantly, a desperate metallic ringing that finally signals the end of your "reign." I stand up slowly, smoothing my gear as I stand directly over you, your limp form draped between my legs like a hunting trophy. The referee reluctantly grabs my wrist and hoists my arm into the air. The sound in the Hammerstein is deafening, the fans who loved the carnage and purists who are horrified by what I just did to a former champion. I don't stay for the celebration. I slide under the bottom rope, the adrenaline still singing in my veins. My eyes lock onto two steel chairs leaning against the timekeeper's table. I grab them both, the cold metal biting into my palms, and hurl them violently into the ring. They clatter loudly on the canvas next to your head. I turn to Hana, my eyes wide and dark with a thrill I can't hide. I'm breathing hard, my smile sharp enough to draw blood. "Hana," I say, my voice low and commanding over the chaos. "Let's finish her. Let's make sure we make statement here tonight." I gesture toward the ring, waiting for my partner to join me for the final act of this execution. "I'm going to place a chair underneath her back and you are going to do your moonsault".

Hana_Jeong: "I'm... not... going to do that," I stammer, my voice barely a whisper against the wall of sound from the crowd. I look at the steel chairs, then at Brooke who looks more like a heap of broken limbs than a person and my stomach turns. I’m a wrestler, a competitor, but I’m not a monster. This is just cruelty. My feet feel like lead, rooted to the floor outside the ring. But then I look at you, Lauren. You’re standing there with that manic, golden-girl glow, your eyes burning with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. There’s something in your gaze that tells me if I don't move now, the bridge we have been building between us will burn to the ground before the end of the night. I feel this terrifying pressure to comply, to stay in your good graces, to stay part of this "alliance." The crowd is chanting my name now, bloodthirsty and eager. They don't want mercy; they want the spectacle. I look down at Brooke, then back at you. My conscience is screaming, but the momentum of this "alliance" is a freight train I can't stop. I have to prove I'm with you. I stand tall on the top turnbuckle, the lights of the Hammerstein blinding me. I take a final, shaky breath, block out the sight of the steel chairs, and leap backward. My body arches perfectly into a Moonsault. I’m a blur of motion, rotating gracefully through the air, but the landing is anything but graceful. I come crashing down, my full weight driving Brooke’s broken body into the cold, unforgiving steel of the chair. The "clack" of the metal folding under us is the most sickening sound I’ve ever heard.

Brooke_Williams: I submit, scream cry...pound the mat in pain...then suddenly the pounding and screaming stop. My head falls to the mat. My arms by my side. You release my legs and I fall lifeless to the mat. My face laying in a puddle of pink. My saliva mixed with the coughed up blood. I am completely motionless as you slip a chair under my back. Then Hana reluctantly joins in the massacre.. Leaping off the rope. Her body crashing into mine. My frame squished between hers and the hard steel chair. I begin coughing up more blood and my body convolses I foam and bleed from the mouth. The fans in a mix of blood thristy thrill and horrified. Less than a month ago I was a beloved champion. Not I lay in the middle of the ring...destroyed, beaten...bloodied by an arrogant vicious newcomer in her debut. Laying at the feet of Hana, and Lauren

Lauren_James: I stand over the wreckage, clapping my hands slowly and sarcastically, forcing the crowd to acknowledge Hana’s perfect execution. My eyes are dancing with a dark, manic energy. I reach down and grab the second chair, sliding the cold metal opening around your neck like a jagged collar. Hana moves toward me, her hand reaching out to stop the madness, but I turn my head just enough to catch her eye. "Don't you dare, Hana," I whisper, my voice a flat, terrifying line of steel. She freezes. I don't give myself time to second-guess. I launch myself into the air and bring both boots down with everything I have onto the chair wrapped around your throat. CRACK. The sound is sickening a dry, metallic snap that echoes through the hushed ballroom. Your body jolts once, then goes completely, terrifyingly still. I stand up, breathing heavily, and pull my long blonde hair back over my shoulders, a triumphant, satisfied smile plastered on my face for the cameras. But then, I look down. The adrenaline that was screaming through my veins begins to ebb away, leaving a cold, hollow silence in its wake. I see Hana standing across from me, her eyes brimming with tears, looking at me like I’m a monster she doesn't recognize. I look back at you motionless, the chair still twisted around your neck, the pink froth staining the mat. The weight of the silence hits me. My smile falters, then vanishes. I look at my hands, then back at your broken form, the realization finally dawning on me: Hana is in shock

Hana_Jeong: My eyes are fixed on the ring, but I can't actually process what I'm seeing. My stomach turns over and over. That’s a human being down there. A girl just like us, and she’s... she isn't moving. The sound of that chair, that CRACK, it’s going to play on a loop in my head for the rest of my life. The ring is suddenly swarming with black-and-white stripes and paramedics. They’re shouting, pushing us back, frantic. I feel a hand on my shoulder, someone telling us to move, but I’m already backing away. I look at you, Lauren, and for the first time since we met, I’m actually terrified of you. I don't wait for you. I don't wait for the music. I just turn and bolt. I run through the ropes, hit the floor, and sprint toward the curtain as fast as my legs will carry me. I don't look at the fans, I don't look at the cameras. I just need to get away from the blood, the steel, and the person I just helped you become. I burst through the curtain into the back, looking for anywhere to hide, wanting nothing more than to just disappear.

Lauren_James: I walk through the curtain with my chin held high, the adrenaline still humining under my skin. The locker room is a sea of shifting eyes some veterans look at me with a newfound, begrudging respect, while the younger girls shrink back against the walls as I pass. I can feel the power radiating off me. I’m the most talked-about person in this building. I spot Hana tucked away in the shadows of a grimy, brick corridor, looking like she’s trying to merge with the wall. I wipe a stray smudge of Brooke’s blood off my forearm and put on my brightest, most winning "Lauren" smile. "Whatsuppp my girl Hana!" I chirp, my voice echoing off the narrow walls. I sound like we just finished a workout, not a public assault. "You played that perfectly! That internal struggle between being a face and a heel? It was a masterclass, seriously. The crowd was eating out of the palm of your hand." I step into her personal space, radiating a terrifyingly casual warmth, and raise my hand for a high-five. My eyes are wide and friendly, completely masking the cold calculation underneath. I’m not going to let her feel guilty I’m going to make her feel like an accomplice in the greatest performance of her life. "We’re the talk of the town, Hana. Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now that we run this place".

Hana_Jeong: I’m leaning against the cold brick wall, the plastic of my water bottle crinkling loudly in the silence of the hall. I pour the ice-cold water over my face and the back of my neck, the shock of it the only thing keeping me from spiraling. My heart is still hammering against my ribs, and every time I close my eyes, I see Brooke’s body convulsing under that chair. Then I hear your voice. That bubbly, high-pitched "Lauren" tone that makes my skin crawl. When you hold up your hand for that high-five, I don't move. I just stare at your palm, then look you dead in the eye. I don't look like your roommate anymore; I look like someone who’s just seen a ghost. "Stop your bullshit right there, Lauren," I snap, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and pure exhaustion. I don't take the high-five. I let your hand hang there in the stale air. "What the fuck was that in the ring?" I step toward you, the water dripping from my chin onto my gear. "That wasn't a 'performance,' and I wasn't 'playing' a character. That's a human life laying out there on a stretcher right now because of you. Because of us." I slam the half-empty water bottle onto a nearby equipment crate, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "She isn't breathing on her own, Lauren! You heard that sound! She will end up in the hospital if not worse!

Lauren_James: I let my hand drop, the "friendly" mask finally cracking to reveal the sharp, jagged edge underneath. I step even closer, closing the gap until I’m looming over you, my shadow stretching long against the grimy corridor wall. "Please, Hana. You should know better than anyone this is a hardcore wrestling promotion," I say, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss. "We all signed an agreement, remember? We signed up for the blood. We signed up for the risk." I pause, letting the silence get heavy before I explode. My voice goes from a whisper to a shout that makes a passing stagehand jump. "I'm working my ass off to make us 'the real deal' of this place! Or do you think you are going far by being that little Asian angel you pretend to be?" I’m screaming now, the frustration of carrying the "star power" boiling over. "Wake up! You can be the better wrestler, the athletic one, the one with the 'perfect moonsault' but it’s thanks to me "the bitch" that we are getting booked regularly! It's because of my edge that we’re getting close to the main event and a tag team title shot!" I jab a finger toward the curtain, toward the arena where the fans are still buzzing. "They don't pay to see a handshake, Hana! They pay to see what I just did!

Hana_Jeong: I don’t flinch. I stand my ground, the water from my hair dripping onto the floor between us. I look at that finger you're jabbing toward the curtain and then back at your eyes, which look like they belong to someone I don't even know. "I don't give a shit, girl!" I scream back, my voice cracking with the weight of my disgust. "I never asked you for anything to help me climb up! Not once!" I swipe the wet hair out of my face, my chest heaving. "I got here by putting my body on the line and do my best! By doing good, by training until my lungs burned and my bones ached! If I get kicked out tomorrow, if I never main event a show in my life, at least I can look at myself in the mirror! It’ll be because I wasn't good enough or didn't try hard enough, not because I sacrificed someone's ability to walk just to get a 'push' or manipulated someone in the backstage!"

Lauren_James: I let my gaze travel slowly from your boots up to your wet, trembling face, my expression curdling into one of pure, unadulterated pity. The "sisterhood" we had is officially dead, and I’m the one who just buried it. "Hana... you are full of shit," I say, my voice eerily calm now, which is far more terrifying than the screaming. "You love the spotlight. You love the wins. You take advantage of me being the 'bitch' while you pretend to be the saint. You let me do the dirty work so you can keep your conscience clean and your hands soft." I take a half-step back, looking at you like you’re a piece of faulty equipment I'm ready to discard. "But the truth is, you’re just a pathetic loser. You have a victim complex a mile wide," I sneer, leaning in to whisper the next part so it cuts deeper. "You let yourself be treated like trash in Japan. You let yourself be used by that guy in Spain who shitted on you in the end and tossed you aside like a used tissue. You’re a doormat, Hana. You always have been." I huff a short, mocking laugh and turn my back on you, dismissively waving a hand over my shoulder. "I actually think I’m losing my time with you. I thought you had the spine for the big leagues, but you’re just a mid-carder with a pretty jump. Go find a corner to cry in. I’ve got a career to manage."

Hana_Jeong: I don't flinch as you get into my space. I look deep into your cold, but beautiful blue eyes the eyes of someone who thinks they are a queen but is really just a hollow shell. "I’ve suffered a lot in this life, Lauren. People have hurt me a lot, just like you’re trying to do right now," I say, my voice steady, vibrating with a quiet strength that cuts through your frantic energy. "I get beaten down, but I get up every single time. And that is enough for me. It's enough to know that I always tried to do the right thing." I move even closer, until our chests are almost touching, and I don't look away. "I know I’m just a common mortal. But I wake up every morning with a clean conscience. So stop lying to yourself, saying I 'take advantage' of your fucked-up schemes. I never neeeeeeded you," I say, dragging out the word so you can feel the weight of it. "I can't say the same for you, though." A small, sad smile touches my lips one that says I see exactly how pathetic you really are. "You need me for the simple fact that if it wasn't for me, you’d be sleeping under the Brooklyn Bridge right now with your designer bags as a pillow. " I pause, letting the silence ring in the hallway, then I jab my finger into your chest with sudden, jarring violence, right over your heart. "You need me because you use people to get what you want. You need me because deep inside," I hiss, "you know that in all your life, you have been and you will always be... a coward, Lauren. "

 

 

Lauren_James: The word "coward" hits me harder than any chair shot or powerbomb ever could. It feels like you’ve reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart until it stopped. For a second, the hallway goes silent, the air rushing out of my lungs as if I were the one crushed under the steel. My vision blurs with a sudden, hot flash of white-hot rage and shame. Before I can even think, my hand flies out. SLAP. The sound echoes like a whip cracking against the brick. It’s a vicious, stinging blow that catches you right across the cheek, the force of my desperation sending you stumbling back against the grimy wall. The silence that follows is deafening. I stare at my own palm, which is bright red and shaking uncontrollably. I look at you—pressed against the wall, your face beginning to swell and the "Lauren" I’ve been pretending to be for the cameras just... dissolves. The ice in my veins turns to lead. "Sorry..." I gasp, my voice breaking, the manic confidence replaced by a hollow, high-pitched terror. "Hana... I'm sorry." I take a frantic step forward, my eyes welling up with real tears for the first time tonight. I reach out, trying to wrap my arms around you, trying to pull you into an embrace to erase the last ten minutes.

Hana_Jeong: I feel your arms closing around me, but I can’t handle the touch. It feels like a cage. My cheek is burning from the slap, but the coldness I feel toward you hurts so much more. I put my hands up, palms out, and firmly but gently push you back, creating a gap between us that feels like an ocean. "Let me be, Lauren," I say, my voice flat and hollow. I don't look at you. I can't look at you. "Just let me be, please." I don't wait for your apology or your tears. I turn away, my boots echoing rhythmically on the concrete as I walk down the long, dimly lit corridor.

 

TO BE CONTINUED