Feels Like We Only Go Backwards...

[chaos lite]

it feels like I only go backwards, babe
every part of me says go ahead
i've got my hopes up again oh no, not again.
it feels like we only go backwards, darlin'

dec.24.twelve5:30am

I was quickly jolted awake by my iPhone’s built-in alarm clock. The theme song from Happy Days played, serving as a reminder to wake up... and I swear, every morning that theme song becomes just a little bit less appealing. Every time.

I rolled out of the bed and glanced over at Cassandra, grinning just slightly. She was curled up like a child. She’d always slept that way, as long as I could remember. I guess it became kind of endearing over the years.

Over the next few moments, I found myself tip-toeing around our hotel suite at the Plaza in NYC, purposely stepping on the many strewn-about articles of clothing so the naked skin on my feet wouldn’t make more noise on the hardwood floor. I groaned, cursing aloud to myself as I bumped into potentially every single sharp edge and corner between my bed and the bathroom of the suite...

Finally, I pushed open the door of the bathroom and stepped inside, squealing a little as the overwhelming bright lights completely violated my poor, defenseless eyes at this ungodly hour. I closed the door behind me, and turned, staring into the mirror.

”Geez, Aubrey...”

I guess it was the first time I’d really looked at myself since the Tag Team Title match. I ran fingers over my shoulder and my arm, over the welts... cuts sustained from the night before. I allowed my fingers to travel down to the brace around my wrist, which had been assaulted the night before that. Finally, I let my hand come up to my face, to my hair, where I pulled several strands away from my ear, and the skin around it.

Gnashes. Scrapes. I winced and retracted my hand, the hair falling back into place over the scars consequently.

”Aubs?”

Cassandra’s voice was muffled, but I sighed and turned to pull the door open, looking up at her. I must’ve looked like I was about to cry because she ran to me, throwing her arms around me.

”What’s wrong?!”

”...I don’t know.”

She took a step back and held onto my shoulders to give me an inquisitive look.

”What do you mean, I don’t know? What’s wrong with you?”

I said the only thing that really came to mind.

”Everything just fucking hurts.”

”Well...”

She shifted her arms uncomfortably and looked up at me as she took a step back, giving me a little shrug.

”Don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to do anything about it. I just-”

A sharp pain in my head cut me off. I winced in pain and groaned.

”I’m just gonna take some Tylenol and go back to sleep.”

So I moved past Cassandra and I did just that. There was more she wanted to say, and I knew that, but this wasn’t something I could talk about with her. There was only one person I could talk to about something like that, and I was fully aware of that. Cass was too.

You know something though?

If I knew then what I know now about the first Asylum of 2013... then those cuts and bruises probably would’ve hurt a whole lot worse.



jan.5.twelve10:11am

Anybody that knows me knows how I feel about participating in interviews.

I don’t.

So bear with me here nearly two weeks in the future as I approach a woman that’s endeared herself to you guys before, Rose Alwell. Here we are, days removed from the parking lot attack, and the journey from the top of a ladder through a couple of tables fifteen feet below... and I’m still walking a little funny. Yes, yes.. I can hear the inappropriate jokes from the guys backstage already.

Ugh. There she was. Those glasses pushed over her eyes, her hair pulled back in a bun, that sickening smile which always drips with this sarcastic shade of sweetness. She extended her hand and I was almost robotic in shaking it.

”Hey, Aubrey! It’s nice to see you again.”

She hugged a folder to her chest. I eyed it, and evidently she saw, because she glanced down at it and gave me a coy smile.

”I hope we have a lot to talk about today.”

I nodded at her.

”Trust me, there’s a lot.”



jan.5.twelve10:30am

”You didn’t win the World Championship.”

I hate this bitch.

”You didn’t win the Tag Team Championships either.”

Seriously! I barely had time to look at my surroundings before the cameras snapped on and this interview started. It was unconventional to say the least. She didn’t introduce me, nor herself when the cameras began production. She was going for attention-grabbers... at my expense. Great.

”No, I didn’t. But-”

”But tomorrow night on Asylum, you go up against the new Suicidal Champion, Jason Kash for the title. Is the third time the charm for AJP?”

I angled my head upward to look at her for a little bit, trying to detect any air of sarcasm.

”Maybe.”

”Maybe? Ha, two weeks ago you were tearing your opponents to shreds. What happened?”

”What can I say?”

I might’ve glared at her-- you’ll have to review the tapes and let me know.

”Guess I got humbled.”

”That isn’t the kind of attitude befitting of a Suicidal Champion. If you go back and look at the long list of APW Suic-”

”I’m not doubting myself. I’m not saying that I can’t do it. I know I’m capable of beating Jason Kash... just like I knew I was capable of beating Sally Talfourd.

And I did defeat Sally Talfourd in a World Heavyweight Title match. However, because I didn’t walk out of the match with the title... due to interference that I accurately predicted and failed to prevent... people write it off as a loss. People don’t see me with the big gold belt so they assume that I choke under pressure or that I can’t win the big one.

So when Jason Kash associates with a woman that is notorious for getting involved in my matches, Kaylyn James Evans, it becomes hard for me to argue with the patterns. I’m Aubrey J. Parker so I don’t get a clean shot here. Apparently, I’m not allowed to just go out there and wrestle. There’s always some kind of catch. There’s always some sort of... asterisks.”

To emphasize, I held the bruised and swollen wrist that had been nearly broken at Kaylyn’s hands.

Rose looked at the heavy duty black brace that protected my wrist and hand for a little while and then transitioned her gaze back to me.

”So you’re expecting to be ‘screwed’ out of this match?”

”I’ve learned not to expect anything from anybody except myself and my tag team partner... but I’m prepared for the worst. Yeah.”

”And you think Jason Kash has a lot of incentive to do that.”

I looked at her for a moment, contemplating. Considering.

”No.”

”No?”

”Jason’s issues with me are shallow. He made a pass, he got shot down, and in typical male fashion, he’s now demonizing me for it. We could say that this match is happening because I ripped up some of Jason’s clothing and wrestling attire, or because we had a spat on Twitter, but it’s not.

This match is happening because Reginald Schmidt is throwing a giant Band-Aid over his mistake. By granting me a shot at the Suicidal Title, I’m supposed to ignore the fact that Michael Callahan is getting my World Title shot... a shot that I rightfully earned and will probably never see.”

My cheeks burned with anger but I continued before Rose could utter another word.

”I could bitch and moan about how I deserve more, but I don’t think I have to... if I don’t get my World Title opportunity, then I’ll gladly take the Suicidal Championship and make life absolutely miserable for everybody that challenges me for it. If they won’t give me my World Title, then I’ll make the Suicidal Championship more important.

I’ll make my own World Title.”

”But in order to do that, you have to beat-”

”Kash.”

”Yes... and I’ve looked at some of the things you’ve said to him on Twitter. You poke a lot of fun at his accomplishments and credibility. No disrespect meant to you, but this man is a Grand Slam Champion. He won the World Heavyweight and Suicide Titles twice. Shouldn’t you give him a little more respect than you do?”

”He...”

Pride-swallowing time. I never liked the taste.

”He’s had the kind of career that some people only dream of. I’m not ignorant. I mean... I don’t think that Jason's a bad performer and I think he’s one of the most dangerous guys in APW. You HAVE to be to hold that championship. But a week or so ago, Jason raised a good question. He asked how I could hate somebody that has given so much of himself to this company and bled and shed tears for this business.

To be honest, I find it really quite easy.

I can’t pinpoint the exact time and place that it happened, but sometime over the past few months, Jason Kash stopped doing this for the love of the business and started wrestling for the love of... Jason Kash.

Jason came to the realization that wrestling is his lifeline. You think that he would be accepted outside of this business, or even this company? He has no front teeth, he barely has a grasp on the English language, and he poops on everything.”

”He... He poo-”

”On everything. It’s disgusting.”

”That is a little unsettling...”

”Jason is good, but there’s one thing that’s become really obvious during my time in APW and it’s that Jason needs attention from these fans and from these people backstage. Jason NEEDS APW more than APW needs Jason. As a wrestler, that’s something that you’ll never accept... that the business you gave your everything to is able to swiftly move on without you. Like you never existed.

As a champion, one of your biggest fears isn’t losing the title, but realizing that it’s possible that your title reign might not be remembered. You could fight your ass off and have an entire arena in awe... in standing ovation only to have it FORCED away from you a couple of weeks later. The wheel keeps turning and eventually, everybody forgets that you even had it. It’s unfair. It fucking sucks.”

She wanted to say something, but she didn’t. I was fuming... I glared at Rose Alwell as if she were the one who had wronged me.

“I know how it feels. So why shouldn’t he?”

”So... you wanna beat Jason Kash out of spite?”

”Yes”

”Is that good motivation for a championship match? I mean, you talked about Jason Kash’s ideals being shallow and-”

I raised my pointer finger and she immediately fell silent.

”What motivation would you like me to have going into a match with essentially no rules, when I have to compete with this?”

I pulled back strands of hair on the right side of my head, revealing those same scrapes and cuts that I’d been admiring in the mirror every single night and morning. Even healing, the story of war was still written across my flesh.

I let my hair fall back into place, and once more displayed the nearly shattered wrist.

”I’m not going there to play by the rules and I’m not there to impress somebody. At this point, all I can do is fight to survive, and that’s the life of a Suicidal Champion. The nature of that title isn’t to beat your opponent.

It’s to hurt him.

It’s all a game... of survive... and conquer.”

There were a few moments of silence between us, and my next few words cut so crisply through the dead silent air that it nearly startled even me.

”I’ve survived everything that’s been thrown at me so far. Tables, ladders, chairs, everything. But the one thing I’ve never had to endure is a one on one match with a Grand Slam Champion.

And the one thing Kash has never had to endure is a one on one match with... me.”

I chuckled softly and leaned back in the chair to look at Rose, who was watching me curiously.

”If there’s anybody that knows how to survive, adapt, and conquer, it’s me. That’s what Asylum is supposed to be about. It’s that uncertainty and unpredictability. The Suicidal Title is the perfect representation of all of that... and I want it. I want to take it to heights that even Michael Callahan couldn’t take it.”

Rose watched me steadily as I got up to my feet.

”Career suicide.”

I laughed a little and looked down at my injured wrist, shaking my head with a bittersweet half smile.

”That’s what this is, Rose.”

”...It’s not a match you’ve got to go through with.”

”Sure it is. This is how I prove to everybody that I don’t intend on being trampled over and used as a pawn to the people that Schmidt and Bambi consider the real stars of this show. The Suicidal Championship and I will become the real stars of this show... of this company.”

I glanced in the direction of the door and then turned back to Rose with a sigh.

”We’re finished, right? You’re out of time.”

Rose smiled, knowingly.

”I’m sure you would know better than I, Ms. Parker.”

I looked at her for a few more seconds, maybe a little awkwardly, because I didn’t know what else to say. I just gave her a nod and collected my belongings, which consisted solely of a handbag. I prepared to make my way to the door, but-

”Wait.”

I turned my head once and looked at Rose as she approached me with her arms crossed, and an invasive leer cast in my direction.

”What’s Kaylyn’s role in this match?”

”If she’s smart, she won’t have one.”

I started to turn away again and make my way to the door, but yet again-

”What about Logan Alexander?”

”He won’t either. We have an understanding.”

Inches. Mere inches. My foot was literally in the damn doorway...

”What about Michael Callahan?”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned and looked at Rose Alwell with my hands gripping the sides of the door frame. After a few seconds, I laughed quietly and shook my head.

”Nobody likes a gossip queen, do they?”

With a wink, I turned and and left. Rose watched for a moment, unbeknownst to me, but once I disappeared around the corner she turned and nodded to the camera, signaling for him to end his recording.

fin.