Post by Dionysus on Oct 23, 2022 12:08:13 GMT -5
| My hand hovered at Elbrook's door. It is 2:04 PM. My appointment was four minutes ago. No doubt he would attempt to call. But I am here, filled with dread over what this appointment may bring. 2:05. And my hand is still frozen in place. Thankfully the door opened before I needed to do anything. On impulse, I shuffled out of the doorway, just in case another patient was on their way out. But there was Elbrook, his blank, analytical expression unwavering as he held the door open, gesturing for me to come into his office. Nodding in acknowledgement, I walked past him into the office, immediately taking a seat in the patient's chair. Elbrook had a pitcher of water and a set of glasses set on the coffee table between us, and while he took his seat, I helped myself to a glass. I took a drink as he pulled out his notepad. The water was stale, as though it had been sitting out for hours. Still, given how dry my mouth was feeling, it would do for refreshment. "I was about to offer you a glass," Elbrook began, "but I see you helped yourself. I understand that this is outside of our normal arrangement of meetings." "Yes," I replied, setting my glass down, "And I will make sure you are compensated for the extra session." Elbrook waved his hand dismissively. "I build in emergency sessions as part of my services. It will be part of your regular billing. Now then, I want to ensure I am understanding the reason for this session. You wish to confide something in me...something that may have been illegal to do?" I nodded. My voicemail was not particularly detailed; it had been a 3 AM call, after all. Elbrook nodded, continuing, "In that case, I would remind you that while I will need to document what is said as part of the session, I am also bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. You are free to speak without the worry of what is said being used against you, should anything happen." There was a certain comfort in those words, though whether or not I wanted to actually believe him remained undecided. "So...what brings you into my office today?" I looked down at my hands as they were gripped tightly together. "Qualis Artifex Pereo," I muttered under my breath. When I looked up, I saw Elbrook raise an eyebrow, quizzically. "Sorry. When I'm feeling distressed, I tend to lapse into whatever Latin I can remember offhand." "I had not taken you for a man who knew Latin." "There is plenty of Latin in our history. I took a course or two in college and kept up with it since." "And what is the significance of that phrase?" I absent-mindedly cracked my knuckles. "The translation is 'What artist dies within me.' It was something the Roman emperor Nero had said before he took his life." A hollow chuckle escaped my lips. "Its something I have been thinking a lot about. That phrase, I mean. Nero said it as a means to absolve himself of the atrocities he committed, but to me, it has a different meaning...as if a part of me has been ripped away." There was a long pause as I collected my thoughts. Then, "You remember me talking about the man who bought my mother's debt along with my own and made our lives hell, right? I decided to meet with him to discuss that debt, and how I would not be paying that scumbag of a loan shark anymore. Not one cent more." My hands trembled on their own, the anger was burning up in me again. "He threatened me. Threatened my family. He told me he knew where my mother was...and that he would go pay her a visit." I swallowed hard. "I don't think I even realized I had hit him until he was lying on the ground." Elbrook looked up from his notepad, observing my distress and anger at what I had just said. "So you struck this man out of anger in-" "I struck him out of compassion," I snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Elbrook. "I would have killed him if it wasn't for my mercy. That was what I thought after that first blow." "First? You mean to tell me there were more?" "...Yes," I admitted, calming down. "He had this satisfied look on his face, finally finding a way to crack the armor. And I let him have it. I paid off my debt that night. With each punch, I paid every dollar. With each kick, I reminded him of the damage he had done to us all these years. I needed him to not just win this fight, but every other fight we would have." "And how did it feel?" "That's just it, doctor. It was...cathartic. It felt really good...at first. Once the adrenaline wore off, I realized what I had done. I let the calm, cool and calculating part of me die on that parking ramp. I let the artist die within me. Qualis Artifex Pereo." "But unlike Nero, you are not choosing to..." I nodded my head. "Right, I'm not going that route. But that moment has made me reevaluate what I have been doing with my life. Just coasting from moment to moment, allowing the tides of chaos to take me where it wants to lead me. And this is where it has left me; broken, confused, not knowing what to do next." I placed my hands in my lap, looking back up at the good doctor, his pen swiftly noting what I had just told him. "I am about to give you your biggest project yet." His expression never changed. He simply brought his pen down to his pad, and said to me, "Then let us continue." ------------------------------- No wine. No roses. No ridiculous stories or apt comparisons. I am not in the mood for those things. Not now, anyway. Perhaps I was too naive in my proclamation that this year would be the year that I flourish. Perhaps holding my accolades too prominently caused me to become complacent, to slip, to end up in the trenches once more in an effort to prove myself once again. At a time like this, there are two routes that I could take. The first, accept and acknowledge that my goal was missed and focus on myself more. The second, find every possible excuse in the book that would explain why I am not where I want to be today. I let others carry me to the top when I don't really belong. The referees are out to get me. "Insert flavor-of-the-week superstar here" keeps getting handed chances while I have to work all the time. The funny thing is, I'm pretty sure these are all phrases out of the Tatiana Playbook of Mediocre Excuses For Why I'm Bad At My Job. I really wish the publishers would fix that title; its much too long, much like her presumed staying power. You can throw out every possible excuse from the playbook you want when you inevitably lose this; you have already admitted to the world you can't compete with the top level talent. I had to do a double-take when I realized you've had the Television Championship three times, not because you are a surprising talent, but because I've held my piss longer than your reigns have been. And like holding piss, those runs have been about as enjoyable; sitting through the pain knowing that relief is quickly in sight. But maybe what you need is a lesson, and I'll even improvise from your own playbook. As much as people hate Dandy DiVito for the type of slimy brand of scumbag he is, this is also a guy who went a solid year taking Ls back to back and still managed to find a way to be a fixture in Action Wrestling. Did he bitch and moan about other people getting in his way? No. Did he complain about the referees being out to get him? No. Did he make excuses after each loss in that year? Maybe, but does anyone remember what they were? Hell no. They know Dandy as a winner, like him or hate him. Find some blank space in that notebook and make some notes on losing with grace. You'll be doing a lot more of it on this level. Believe me, I have been there. I AM there. There was a time where I felt I had not earned my place at the top of the mountain. That I was only stepping on toes and was an inconvenience to those with greater ambition. That mentality is for suckers. It is only in hindsight that I am reminded of how foolish it was to think I was not worthy. And its that same hindsight that has me particularly annoyed with the man who would rather guzzle down an old vintage without acknowledging its positive notes. Singh, let me be frank; Napa Valley was a disaster. Not because I had to do the job rallying two of the most impossible teammates to even agree on a place to sit, let alone what to do about our match last week. But because you continue to astound me in how much you want to underestimate what I know. Normally I wouldn't even bother to indulge in my past exploits, but I had to fight through hell against a group of people that would rather see me broken than even win, to the point they had manipulated their way into the Trilogy Cup tournament. And it wasn't enough to put me down. I was the underdog, the upset winner of that tournament. And it led me to my first world title. One that, as a result of a very quick pin early on, I lost too soon. You did that, Singh. You were that pin. Now I know you're thinking that I'm being hypocritical by saying I lost the belt because of you after chastising Tatiana with that same logic, but this is a statement of fact, not an excuse. It was what happened; I was pinned, by you, and as a result I lost that belt. You ended up winning that title in the end. And since then, we had barely crossed paths; it was only at the wine mixer when we first talked again. And while the conversation was about cooperation and teamwork, I also took careful note of what was said about me. "You have a certain confidence and sense of self that wasn't always there in the dub." Your exact words, along with "old friend." Singh, when have we ever spoken to one another, either in WCF or in Action Wrestling? When have we even had a chat outside of our work, aside from the mixer? The confidence and sense of self is something I have always carried. You chose to notice it in order to butter me up, I'm sure, but save your hollow compliments for someone who is in dire need of a boost. Maybe you and Tatiana can have a chat while you watch me in the tournament. Let me make this clear, to the both of you. This is my match to lose. No longer will I pull punches. No longer will I accept my weakness. The Lord of the Vine is on hiatus. The Crimson Gladiator now rises. This is no longer about sport. This is war. |
