Labyrinth XI:XI - Penance (3 of 3)
Jan 1, 2022 21:52:03 GMT -5
Karlie Nash, Johnny Bacchus, and 4 more like this
Post by Lissie Hope ♥ on Jan 1, 2022 21:52:03 GMT -5
I’d spent so much time on the East Coast lately that I’d forgotten what it was like to stand under the shadows of the palace etched with my legacy. I had carved my name into the walls, watched my blood seep into the soil, poured my soul into everything Philidor Holdings, only to finally realize that I’d let down everyone who had ever believed in me prior to that night following XIII Miami. I let the resentment fester in my damaged organs - and for someone who believes in the moon and stars - I never considered the sharp pain in my gut, like the serrated end of a blade piercing and rotating in my spleen every time I did something my blackheart begged me not to, might have actually been a sign from the universe. Maybe that was Robbie’s energy all along, pleading with me to change course. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Things tend to work themselves out, if you’re patient enough to reap the rewards. I’ve found myself again - I love myself again - I’m proud of myself again. I want the world to be proud of me, too. Carter asked me not to go to the office. He was trying to shield me, protect me, and bear the brunt of the punishment himself. But this was all psychological - I don’t fear what I don’t see. And the Dark Man and his dutiful partner were nowhere to be found. Not lurking in the corners of the lockerroom. Not preying from the shadows in my mind. Not roaming the abandoned halls at 44 Union. Carter asked me not to go, but I went anyway. I needed to see if those sterile offices were still decorated with artificial plants and canvas paintings. At Ash’s persuasive insistance, this was my first exposure to the world beyond being shackled to the cold, sterile hospital bed after my soul had experienced a meeting with God. But He wasn’t ready to take me yet - so they took me instead. And now, I had to find it in myself to forgive Robbie, to forgive God, to forgive myself for allowing them to do it. But it was gone. They were gone. There was no penance to be found at 44 Union. I’m in Los Angelas, standing under the PHITGYM banner just days before the season premiere of Monday Night Clash. Illuminated against the night sky, I can see the marquee at the CryptoDotCom Arena promotes a World Championship main event, followed by the long-awaited climax - - Action Wrestling will finally say goodbye to Philidor Holdings. Ash Blake versus Lissie Hope I trusted you, Ash. I trusted you with everything. Lissie Hope sits cross-legged in the center of the indoor basketball court, the halfcourt painted with a PHITGYM logo. Her silver-and-black two-toned hair falls wildly around her round face and she fidgets with the zipper of her sweatshirt. Why did you decide to be my sponsor? My savior? I didn’t ask you to sit at my bedside. I never wanted your help. In the throes of comatose unconsciousness, I didn’t know that was your hand squeezing mine, encouraging me to give life another chance. But against my own reservations, I opened my heart and I listened - and for what? Her pained voice cracks with regret and confusion. What was in it for you, Ash? Was it the promise of a better position within the company? If you were to pull in someone like me, indoctrinate someone with my notoriety - what were you getting out of the deal? Were you sent to my death-bed on orders from your supervisors, or did you decide on your own that, after the failed Noris Cranley and Derrick Vayden experiment, that I was your crown jewel? The masterpiece you could slide on your mantle with the rest of the trophies you’ve crafted with spilled blood and cremated legacies? Lissie pushes herself up with her fists, bringing her knees to her chin. I believed in you, Ash. I believed everything you fucking sold me. I was isolated, and alone, without anyone to reach for me, without anyone who would pull me back from the ledge. I didn’t want to live anymore, and I thought you were my guiding light. I believed you were gifting me purpose. You fed me what I needed to hear, lines that you prepared and regurgitated from those scripts you studied at A&M, posturing with persuasive insincerity and pervasive pretension behind those cold, heartless eyes - of course, I didn’t see it then. Because I wanted to believe that you were offering me salvation. And I was dead fucking wrong. She starts pulling the knee-high sock down the curves of her leg, exposing the long, jagged scar along her calf. Tracing the line with her fingernail, a tear falls. I had spent months leathering my flesh, tearing it open and watching it revitalize, knowing that the scars were permanent fixtures I could always revisit and reopen whenever I needed to feel something. I had hardened, and blackened the cocoon I’ve encased myself in, turtling into a shell that was impenetrable, not even by a slithering viper with a sharpened veneer like you. But you chiseled away until it cracked, and I let you in. I absorbed you, and your motivations, and your machinations, until I became exactly who you always wanted me to be. You had the World Championship to win, and retain, and you needed backup to ensure it happened. Is that why you enlisted me, Ash? Did you need a piece that you could move around the board, one that could protect the kingdom you’d given your fucking life to, someone to sacrifice to Action Wrestling when she was no longer of use? I let myself become that pawn, I let you throw me in the line of fire, I let my integrity and my reputation engulf in the blaze you ignited and watched beneath that vengeful smirk and that empty conscience. And in a lifetime of mistakes, I’ve made no greater than that. But without failure, there’s no absolution. And without absolution, there’s no resolution. I forgave Corey Bull for tormenting me. I sought forgiveness from Corey Black for my indiscretions. But I have no penance to offer you, Ash. I’m not seeking a resolution. 12 22 21 For months, the height of my relapse was a kaleidoscopic euphoria, a mind-bending psychedelic impairment funneled down my throat through the influence of someone who I cared for - and who I thought cared for me. And I fantasized a life where I was just one among friends, floating with the waves, submissive to the current, submerged in warmth and comfort and safety. “Sometimes, you just need to have the girls over for a swim.” The tough, brash exterior I present to the world is compromised by the wear of dependency, by the longing for acceptance, by the limitations and the inadequacies I’ve struggled to recognize. There is no harsher critic than I, alone. No bigger bully than I. Alone. “And I don’t want to be alone anymore.” I’ve been spending a lot of time with a new group of girls - Aphriya, Azurine, Krystal, and Vanessa. It was unexpected, assembled just in time for the holidays, when we’re feeling our most detached, and I couldn’t be more grateful. They don’t allow me to feel alone. I may have my reservations, and I may sit quietly, observing, wondering if they really do want to know me. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve burned every bridge, until someone comes along to assure me otherwise. But buried in the pit of my insecurity will forever lie the answer to the question I’m too afraid to ask - - “What’s in it for you?” I’ve opened my heart before. And for momentary relief, I’ve felt revitalized. But every time, the trust eventually shatters; the mask is lifted and true volition is exposed. But even if it’s just for now, even if it doesn’t last - I’m going to enjoy it. Even if I’m standing so close that they can see every flaw, as if I was a canvas on display and each brushstroke represented every imperfection, I’m going to take these women at their word - until they give me reason not to. I’m a creature of habit - a revolving door of betrayal and heartache - and I’m finally ready to break it. Vanessa gives me a pendant at our ladies gift exchange. Through tearful eyes and a quivering voice, I ask her - “Would you like to hear my goodbye letter?” The world watches the midnight sky erupt while Miley Cyrus sings us into the new year, and everyone you know looks inward and projects outward - either encouraging themselves to fix their flaws and imperfections, or listing the goals they’d like to achieve. The new year gives us a chance to reset, to reprogram; it is the impetus of our reformation. My new beginning is always 11:11. You know the significance, Ash, because I confided it to you. It was the time on the clock when my brother left me. It was the date when I became a World Champion. And it was the timestamp of my final cry for help. You knew this, and you took advantage of it. You used these personal emblems and memories as a way to earn my trust. You knew if you managed to tear down my wall and penetrate the deep, blood-pumping chamber of my soul - what I keep so close, so personal - that I would follow you into hell itself. But here’s the thing, Ash. If I’m going down? I’m taking you fucking with me. “...your goodbye letter?” “Please. Sit.” I encourage the girls to circle around the electric fireplace. Azurine pulls her blanket up to her neck, and Aphriya scoots into Krystal’s shoulder. I reach for Vanessa’s hand, squeezing her fingers in mine, and her skin is cold as ice. But me? I’m burning up, like I’m standing in an inferno. I don’t know if it’s an overwhelming sense of panic from their impending judgement, but it’s something I need to share - for the first time - with anyone. Not even Ash. “So this is what’s called the First Step Preparation - it’s routine in any twelve-step program, and it’s the first thing they asked me to do in recovery. It’s basically an acknowledgement of our powerlessness over our addictions and it’s –” I pause, feeling Vanessa squeeze my hand back. Her eyes are already beginning to water. Aphriya smiles and motions for me to slow down, to relax - I take a deep breath as I pull my goodbye letter out of my purse. “- it’s hard to share this you. I mean, you barely know me.” “We’re here for you, Lissie.” I’m flooded with emotion by their encouragement. I feel my burning body begin to chill. “I was born to be an addict. My father was an alcoholic, and my mother couldn’t protect me. I’ve watched my family deteriorate, and I knew it would always be my long, winding road. You take one look at me, and you know I’m a perfectionist; I’m very hard on myself. I need everything to look right so I can feel right - and my first addiction was anorexia, dating back to grade school. And then I spent hours training, crafting and sculpting my body because I didn’t have anything else. But when I looked in the mirror, I saw the defects, and my brain couldn’t process it. My body, my masterpiece - was imperfect. So I began cutting it. But that wasn’t it.” I couldn’t maintain my composure anymore. “In order to cope with the mental struggle and embarrassment, I would hide the pain with drugs and alcohol - and today, after accepting encouragement and empathy from my sponsors in Philidor Holdings - the hope and the escape from this labyrinth of self-hatred and self-destructiveness I’d been praying for - I’m finally ready to say goodbye to my addictions. I’m saying goodbye to you because I’m finished with you owning me. You did nothing but manipulate me - and backstab me - you tricked me into believing I could turn to you, Ash. I thought you were my friend. Instead, you nearly cost me everything - my sanity, my money, my friends and family, my self-esteem and independence - I could’ve died because of you, Ash. But I’m not ready to go. You are a cruel, sick, selfish bastard, Ash - you took my identity, you robbed me of the pride and hopefulness I wanted to represent, and you turned me into a dog unleashed - you pointed, and I attacked. I did your dirty work, I accepted my Initiation, I led my friend to your doorstep - But I’m better than that now, Ash. You can’t fucking control me anymore. And I don’t seek your penance, Ash. I don’t know if you’re sorry, and I don’t give a shit if you are - but you will be. You are goddamned lucky that this isn’t for your strap, that this isn’t anything goes - that you’ll still have a fucking leg to stand on after this is over. This might be the last chapter. The war might finally be over. But this is going to destroy you - because I know you, Ash. You didn’t want me to, you wanted to hide behind the Philidor mask, but I know exactly what you are. And though your body might not break on Monday Night… your soul will. You aren’t as tough as you think you are - not in here. Lissie points to her temple. Or here. Her heart. That’s what you really wanted from me, Ash. You wanted to learn what it’s like to be Lissie fuckin’ Hope - I’ve been a champion, a pillar, a cornerstone of Action Wrestling. And you wanted to adopt this identity for your role in Philidor Holdings - until you failed them. I’m everything you’re not, Ash, and everything you’ll never be. And that’s why not only am I done with you, but why you’ve seen the last time you’ll ever manipulate anyone like you did me. I don’t need you to admit your culpability and accept your failures, I just want you to know that for the rest of your miserable fucking life, your days of conning people are over. Lissie reaches down and lifts a Molotov cocktail. I’m starting my new life today. She ignites the rag, and tosses it in the middle of the PHITGYM, watching the flames slowly build. Isn't that what you wanted? I slowly traverse through the twisting corridor of my gym, escaping the burning, smokey, and ashed labyrinth - exiting the front door, I feel the cold, winter air on my skin, for the first time in a long time. I’m free. |
