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Post by Lissie Hope ♥ on Jan 9, 2022 11:27:39 GMT -5
I’ve been through the ringer.
Thirty-minutes with Corey Black.
A neverending duel with Carter Shaw where neither of us surrendered.
And it’s a release, a satisfying catharsis to trade fists with the woman - a sponsor, a friend - who ruined my life under the persuasive guise of saving it - even if I came up short.
But these stories are maddeningly incomplete. No resolution, just a series of unresolved questions without any answers. I gave it my all, but I didn’t bury the demons that have been chasing me, pulling me into hell itself. They’re still there - watching, waiting - until they smell blood. I felt the serpent squeezing my neck for too long, but I feel like I’ve escaped the grip Philidor Holdings had over me, finally - for now - for my own safety, my own agency - even in defeat.
I’ve accepted that I may have consequences.
But I’m not afraid of them anymore, either.
I left the labyrinth scorched, polluting the air until the building collapsed into molten metal and crushed rubble.
But from the smoke.
And from the Ash.
I will rise.
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I’ve come this far.
Now? I’m facing a challenge that will determine the course of Lissie Hope in 2022. But I’m prepared, I’ve run through a fuckin’ gauntlet - far beyond the Trials of Despair could ever be.
I’ve survived it all - the sabotage, the betrayal - because I’m determined to return to the spot I left empty, sullied by the vapid snakes who benefitted from my fall from grace.
But I’m free.
And I’m ready to win my second United States Championship.
Action Wrestling wants to see me at the top again, and the proof is in this tournament. Is there a better way to regain your confidence than facing Max Daemon?
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“Baby, are you okay? I’m worried.”
“I’m… better.”
“Honey, I saw your post, and Addy called me and told me you didn’t answer her back. Are you sure everything’s fine?”
“Yeah… I’m gonna be alright. Thank you, though…”
Lissie observed her quiet surroundings. Smelling the aroma of fresh leaves, she kicked the gravel underneath, the creaking rusty swingset threatening to collapse. But she felt buoyant, floating - that despite failure and anguish, her fractured wing had finally began to heal. And she knew with little bit of help, and empathy - she’d soar through the sky again.
“...y’know, for calling. For caring.”
“Baby, of course I care. So many people care. Let them.”
“...yeah…”
She sounded unsure.
“Ma? Can I come home?”
Lissie’s voice cracked with desperation. After a lengthy pause, her prayer was answered.
“I’ll pick you up when you get in.”
I’ve hired a new therapist, Max.
While I sit, I imagine a magazine piquing my curiosity. And I’ll read an article that wrecks me - about new, excited parents embarking on a new, exciting life. Then disaster strikes, they get a devastating update that their unborn child is mentally-stunted. Deficient. Defective. And they have to decide whether to continue - but curiously, you see an uptick in orphanage take-ins. Or worse. Those that survive? Caged, like animals, like those Trudy used to ‘shelter,’ right? And it made me sad - until I realized how much I respected your parents for bringing such an unwanted burden into this world.
Sorry, this dimension.
You have a face any mother would love to abort, but instead, we’re stuck with you.
Now why am I telling you this, Max? It’s simple. You’ve always had such an intense, burning fascination with my life so I decided to throw you a bone - y’know, without you following me into the showers to get a whiff of my underwear.
That’s what this has been for you, right?
You’ve been manufacturing this completely one-sided feud for a year, and you’ll finally get your hands on me! And you want to be one of few who could wreck Lissie Hope’s spirit so badly that she dies in her own misery.
But you’re forgetting something important, Max.
You’ll never be a checkmark on my redemption tour. A moment like this could make you; but me never acknowledging you again, no matter how much you crave my attention, is the reality. This is a product of circumstance; I’m literally contractually-obligated to stroke your toxic male fragility. But this is a business trip for me; I’ve got a title to win. I don’t have time to humor you trying to build a career at my expense.
I won’t bury you, Max, because - in all honesty - I’m afraid that you think me laying down on you for three seconds is foreplay. What I will do for you is prepare you for the beating that Conor McGregor will undoubtedly give you - you continually punch above your weight-class with all this bluster even though you’re consistently outclassed by everyone you’ll never measure up against to begin with.
Your intentions were clear last week.
“The only thing I care about is that fight.”
“Everything in between is just filler.”
Good job, you mangy troll - you discredit every opportunity Action Wrestling throws at your feet. You get your shows, you get put into every trophy cup and every tournament and you get a platform to get the shit kicked out of you on the biggest, most violent stages - and for what?
Do you think it’s because Action Wrestling believes in you?
I dont. They fed you to me.
They’re ready for the not-so-Handsome Half-Wit - sorry, Breed - who follows advice from r/niceguys and has the sex appeal of Elliot Rodger to shit down his leg again. They provide a microphone to talk with that stupid, dopey accent until, of course, fate catches up and we’re reading about how you tied some poor woman who rejected you to a set of train-tracks.
And it’s sad, and frustrating - I feel like we have a lot in common. We probably could’ve empathized with each other, and come to an understanding. We probably could’ve respected one another, and congratulated one another on our sobriety - even if we have alternative motivations.
But there’s a major difference between us.
It’s kind of a deal-breaker, Max.
I never fucked my brother.
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Lissie Hope landed in Houston at half-past-ten.
Filing out of the aircraft and white-knuckling a carry-on, her emotions were raw, unsure if she packed enough. She didn’t know how long she would stay - a homecoming far overdue, as she’d spent several months living out of suitcases and hotels. But there was something satisfying about breathing the Texas air.
She felt weightless again when she stepped out of the terminal and found ‘ma waiting for her. ‘Ma opened her arms, letting her only daughter collapse into them.
“Honey, it’s so good to see you.”
“Thank you for coming for me,” Lissie choked out tearfully. “For always being here for me.”
“Nothing you could ever do,” ‘Ma assured. “Would ever make me give up on you.”
“I’ve been such a burden,” Lissie said, unbuckling her seat belt and resting her head on Ma’s shoulder as they embarked on the half-hour ride. “On everyone.”
“Honey, the cross you bear,” Lissie squeezed her crucifix until her flesh burned. “I will always help you carry it. You aren’t alone, not while I’m here.”
The scenic route. The towering trees. The open roads. The familiarity, and the simplicity, of home.
But that’s not the only tale of our tape.
Against our instincts, we’ve both transformed into exactly what our enemies wanted us to be. I believed in evil, and allowed it to mold me, and shape me. And you - Bozo baited you. He wanted you to dismiss him, to take him for granted. And while I was fighting World Champions to their fucking limit - you needed an opportunistic roll-up to beat a clown.
This doesn’t put you on my level, Max.
This just shows just how far apart we really are.
It’s simple, really.
This tournament means nothing to you.
I anticipate you’ll try to convince us otherwise, but you’ve already established your goal for the year - and it certainly doesn’t hold a fucking candle to mine.
I’m repairing what so many deem irreparable.
What even I considered a lost cause.
But I’m taking this new lease on my career like I’ve taken my new lease on life, and I won’t let you - of all the goofy imps who’ve ever tried to pull me under - to stand in my way.
This is my championship to win.
My time to flourish.
You can hope this’ll be your bright, shining moment - this crowning achievement - a prime opportunity to put a nail in my fucking coffin. But what you’re failing to realize is that every time I’ve had one foot underground, I come back fucking swinging.
I don’t stay down.
I never have.
Action Wrestling can thank you for awakening the beast.
I know you’ve always wanted Lissie fuckin’ Hope.
Try and fucking get her.
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“I just want you to surround yourself with people who love you - appreciate you,” ‘ma said. “Settle down, get your priorities right. Find yourself a boy you love.”
“I do love someone,” Lissie admitted, regretfully. “But he doesn’t love me.”
“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re still seeing him…”
“Cass?” Lissie replied with a smirk. “Oh mama, nooo.”
“I always found him a little… what’s the word?” A pause. “Dumb?”
“‘Ma!” Lissie laughed, nodding her head in acquiescence. “He’s actually a lot smarter than he seems. But yeah, he was a jerk.”
“He used you… influenced you…” she said quietly. “It was heartbreaking to watch you go back to that… behavior.”
“Yeah,” Lissie answered, resigned. “He was a mistake. But he’s gone now… I don’t have to worry about him anymore. I'm done being conned.”
“Are you sure?”
Lissie nervously fidgeted with her sobriety pendant.
“That whorehouse you’ve been to. Those girls you’re hanging out with,” ‘Ma said, sternly. “You need to be careful.”
“It’s not like that, ‘ma.”
“Cut the enablers loose. Get rid of the jerks who just want something from you. What are they called — clout chasers?”
“Yeah.”
“Jock riders?”
“Ma.”
“Dick suckers?”
“Jesus, ‘ma!”
“Like that Max guy. Could never stop talking about you. You need to do what that weird red-head guy told you to do. Cut them off.”
“You really do know everything.”
“What else a lonely old hag like me gonna do by myself? Puttin’ that ten-dollar subscription to Paramount to good use.”
“That’s sweet, ‘ma, that you still care for me this much,” Lissie squeezed her hand.
“Besides… there’s only so much MTV I can watch.”
“…MTV?”
“There’s a show with this girl who looks exactly like you.”
“Ma… seriously. I don’t want to worry you anymore.”
“I’m always gonna worry for you, baby,” she said lovingly. “I signed up for it when I made you.”
Lissie felt the love. She felt the purity and the innocence of being her mother’s child. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the clock, watching it hit 11:09 - but finally - she wasn’t scared. She didn’t feel the paranoia rumbling in her stomach, or her heart pounding in her chest. She finally felt optimistic - like she’d moved beyond the curse.
They turned the long-winding road towards the childhood home. Past the train-tracks that woke her. Past the pond she and Robbie would skip stones in. Past the ranches and the primitive downtown filled with antique shops and family businesses and her old church. She was home.
“Oh-n,” her mother gasped. Lissie’s eyes turned from the clock to the plot where the home was rebuilt. But in the smoldering rubble, only one thing remained, from the smoke, from the ash - the painting, the gift, from the Dark Man.
And she felt the tentacle slither around her throat.
The Beast had risen.
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