So, how’d we get to this point, Otaki? Or is it Robina now? I’m never really sure. How’d we come to be facing in just a few days time? I guess those on the outside would assume that it’s because you spat some vile ass shit in my girlfriends eyes, and nearly blinded her. And while that would be a pretty damn good excuse to get my hands on you – We both know that this was in the works well before any red mist was spat at Maggie.

Long story short, I made a challenge on Twitter.

I was angry that so many people were hating my girl for having an opinion. You know what those are, right Miss FSW? It’s something everyone is allowed to have, unless it conflicts with someone else’s – then all hell breaks loose.

Well, you don’t know much about me, Rotaki.. But I’m not one to just sit around and watch someone I care about be ridiculed and ganged up upon but the uninformed and unintelligent masses. So I said some shit. Maybe it didn’t get me the exact result that I wanted, but apparently I got your attention.

Lucky me, right?

But then… then you nearly blinded her. If we didn’t have a problem before, we sure as hell do now.

 

Date February 13th 2018 / Time 5:22AM / Status Not Recording
Location The Lockheart Residence – Inwood, New York

“We’re almost to the stairs, just take it slow..”

“I can see it, Luce.”

She says quietly as we move into the narrow doorway that separates the tattoo parlor from the downstairs entrance to Maggie’s apartment. My hand is firmly around her arm, do my damndest to lead her as carefully as I can up the steep stairs and get her to her bed.

It’s been a rough night. Not the night I expected, that’s for sure.

Everything was going to plan, well I mean there never really was much of a plan heading into any match or show. Rampage on Friday night went well. She went out there and she showed ‘The struggling green brand’, as she’s been calling it, that she’s the best thing to have happened to their roster since the likes of Ace King…

He’s a pretty big deal over there, apparently. Admittedly, though, I’m more focused on Maggie when we’re at these EWC things. Can’t really blame me though.

Anyway, we made the trek from Green Bay to Phoenix, for her FSW show – going up against the woman she beat for the FSW championship and the man who apparently once wanted Otaki’s head on a platter. But Maggie was teamed up with one of her stablemates and that should have been all she wrote. That was until that purple haired bitch spit that red shit in Maggie’s eyes. It’s obvious, she didn’t want to be beaten… again, and she was still bitter over losing her precious belt after two hundred some-odd days to ‘some rookie’.

“Careful.. Careful.”

We continue up the stairs. Much to her chagrin, I’ve yet to loosen my hold on her.

“I’m okay, really.”

I don’t relinquish my hold on her, I just keep moving up the stairs. My eyes stay focused in front of us, it’s too scary to look to my side and at those dark sunglasses she’s got on over her injured eyes. Sure, it’s childish to think that way, but I can’t stop thinking about that moment that I made it into the trainers room to see her writhing in pain on the table, her screams were deafening as she clawed at her mangled eyes.

It was in that moment I felt my heart truly stop. That was until the anger took over and I took it out on the trainer that was in there with her. The trainer that was supposed to help her. I know I shouldn’t have laid my hands on him, and hell, I might even face repercussions down the road for it – but I don’t care. I wasn’t just going to sit out there in the hallway and twiddle my thumbs like her new manager.

It’s great to be handsome and well-spoken, but that shit don’t mean nothing when the real shit is going down.

That’s exactly why I pushed my way in there and I forced them to get her to the hospital. Good thing I did too – or else she might be totally blind right now. Good thing Bradley wasn’t the one calling the shots….

“Mags, you gotta take it easy…”

“I know, I know.”

She grumbles as we make it to the top of the stairs and to the second entrance to her apartment. I fumble with the keys, still not releasing her arm out of an unrealistic fear of her losing her balance and falling backwards down the stairs. It takes me a little longer than usual, but I get the door open and I guide her into the apartment.

She finally pulls free of my grasp and moves slowly across the room.

I know she doesn’t mean to be like this, but it’s frustrating. She’s in so much pain, and rightfully so. Her eyes were swollen up like balloons as we made our way to the hospital. The doctors weren’t sure what happened exactly, but their guess at the moment is some kind of allergic reaction to whatever was in that red mist.

I’ve seen CJ sick and hurting enough to understand that the anger and the wall that she’s putting up are totally normal, and I have to force myself to believe that this is different, that she’ll eventually pull that wall back down when she’s feeling better. All I can do right now is take care of her. All I can do is grin and bear it, for her sake… for ours.

“Let’s get you to bed… Do you want some water?”

I walk behind her as she makes her way through the apartment. Of course, now that we’re here and she’s safe and sound at home – although truth be told, she should still be back in Phoenix in that hospital, but she insisted she was fine to go home. Just like she insisted she was fine to take the gauze off of her eyes once we got back to New York… Even though I can tell any amount of light is excruciating to her.

But now that we’re here, I find myself wanting to ask her why she hired herself a manager. Especially one that she’d called me out for coffee about, wanting my advice. Feeling ‘weird’ about the situation, and unsure of how she should proceed. I found it odd too that a handsome stranger somehow found his way into her tattoo parlor with far too much information about her and her friends… and wanted to become her manager. I advised that she be careful…

I’ve dealt with people like that before. Gabriel….

But she hired him anyway.

I want to know why. I mean, I can’t deny that I’m a bit peeved that she did – not only because of what she told me, but in the few moments I spent alone with the man, something just didn’t feel right about him. What kind of man smirks when his client is in agonizing pain in the next room?

I don’t know.

But maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe he does give a shit. He did tell me to take good care of her when I dismissed him from the hospital. As if I were going to do anything less? Of course I’m going to take care of her.

Ugh.

But I can’t worry about that now. I’ve got to worry about her, and getting her taken care of – or rather, keeping her from doing anything that’s going to fuck up her recovery.

“I just want to sit–”

Before she can finish her sentence, a strong knock comes to her door and the both of us turn towards it, alarmed. It’s nearly six in the morning, who in the hell could that be?

“Who is it?”

I shout towards the door, taking a few steps forward – preparing myself to fuck up whoever or whatever is out there.

“It is me!”

“Shit, it’s Nadette.. Let her in.”

I sigh and shake my head, moving towards the door and pulling it open, only for Maggies best friend and manager of the tattoo shop practically busts into the apartment, a frantic look on her face. I suppose she saw what happened. I’m not shocked.

“Are you okay?!”

She brushes past me and rushes across the room towards Maggie, who’s now sitting on her chair in the living room.

“Dette, I’m fine. Stop freaking out.”

“You are kidding, no? This is exactly what I talk about! Look what all this fighting get you!”

I shut the door behind her and step back across the room, listening to Nadette talk to Maggie like a child. I don’t like it. Like, I really don’t like it. Maggie’s got enough to worry about right now, without being accosted by her supposed ‘best friend’. Who in the hell does this bitch think she is anyway?

“Dette, I–”

But Maggie can’t even finish the sentence before Nadette is again laying into her.

“What if you cannot do art again? What if this foolishness cost you everything?!”

I step in beside Maggie, trying to keep my cool. I move my eyes anywhere but into the enraged ones of the strong brunette standing in front of us. Nadette isn’t exactly my biggest fan, that much has been apparent since she learned that Maggie and I were dating. Told me that I was just another ‘Sam Tolson’. Good lord, no one could be as loose as Sam. No one be as selfish and as uncaring as her either.

But I digress, again.

“And you!”

I turn back, realizing that she’s talking to me now. My eyes widen and I shrug my shoulders. What did I do now? Am I breathing too loud?

“Where were you when all of this happen? Were you with… how do they say it… Next flavor of the week?”

My jaw drops and my blood instantly starts boiling. I don’t need this shit. Not with everything going on. Not with my fucking parents breathing down my neck, not with my ex husband sending me packages filled with shit I left behind, or how about my best friend trying to take matters into his own hands? Add on top of that, the woman I love being hurt, her career threatened… Yeah, I’m not in the mood to be called a slut… again.

I open my mouth to speak, but Maggie beats me to it.

“Dette!”

“It is true, is it not?!”

I take a deep breath. Deep breaths Lucy… Adding more kindling to the fire isn’t going to help anyone, especially Maggie.

“Listen, Nadette.. I don’t really think we need to be talking about this right now. Maggie needs to rest. Come on babe..”

Maggie nods and stands up. As we’re walking towards the bedroom, I turn to Nadette.

“I’m sorry you feel that way though.. I’m not anything like her.”

Maggie moves through the threshold of the bedroom and out of my view. Nadette sighs, running her hand through her long, brown locks. I know she cares about Maggie, that much is obvious. I just don’t think she knows how to handle her fear or her sadness. I don’t have much room to talk though.

“You do not understand. Every time she go out there, I worry that she come back like this. I only tell her these things to make her understand what we feel.”

“What we feel?”

“Me, the other girls in shop. We all worry about her… She push herself to do too much.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“But what she does isn’t your choice. It’s hers. She knows the risks. She doesn’t need to hear all of this shit right now, it doesn’t help.”

I can tell she doesn’t like what I’m saying. That’s too damn bad.

“You do not know–”

“No, I don’t know, Nadette. I don’t fucking know anything apparently. But what I do know is that if you’re not here to support her then I’d rather you just leave. You can have this mother daughter talk some other time.”

Her eyes widened as she stares at me in shock. I turn to walk away, but I stop myself again. There’s just one more thing I need to say, and maybe it’ll get me into trouble with Maggie, but I can’t hold it in. Not right now.

“One more thing, stop comparing me to Tolson. Have a good night, Nadette. I’m sure we’ll see you later today when she’s feeling better.”

This time I turn and I actually walk away, heading into the bedroom with her. I walk in to find her sitting on the bed, her head in her hands. I hear the door of her apartment close, and I heave a sigh of relief.

“You okay, babe?”

She doesn’t bring her head up, but I hear her breathing pick up as I move closer. I bring myself down onto the bed beside her, lightly touching her back and running my hand up and down. I hate seeing her in so much pain.

“I’m sorry that she said that. I can’t believe that she… I’ll talk to her about it later.”

I shake my head.

“Don’t worry about it. You need to focus on you.”

“It hurts. What if Dette is right though? What if I can’t draw or do tattoos anymore?”

I sigh softly and lay my chin on her shoulder, wrapping my arms around her.

“You will. It’s just going to take time. You can’t worry about that now. She shouldn’t have come busting in here like that.”

“She was just worried.”

I nod my head.

“I know, but…”

I don’t even know what to say. Nadette was wrong. In my heart of hearts I know that she cares, but there’s a right way and a wrong way to handle situations like this. If Maggie had lost both of her legs, would she have come in and told her that she should still be able to walk? There’s a time and a place for everything and Maggie puts enough shit on her shoulders as is.

I know that she started with UGWC in between her EWC commitments, and I know it was because of me. But what can I do? I can’t change her mind. She’s stubborn.

“Hey, why don’t you lay down? Try and get some rest.”

I honestly think that she’s going to put up a fight, but she nods her head and pulls her blanket over her body and lays back on the bed. I stand up and smooth out the blanket.

“Yeah.. I’m tired…”

I don’t say anything, I just pull her glasses off of her eyes and lay them on the nightstand beside the bed. I lean down over her and kiss her on the forehead. But as I’m pulling away, to stand up – she opens her eyes, and I can see the pain in them as she looks around, and then at me.

“Lay down with me?”

I wasn’t going to. I was going to give her some space and let her rest.. But I can’t just leave with her looking at me like that, in so much pain.

“If you don’t want me to. I won’t go.”

 

Date February 21st 2018 / Time 11:13AM / Status Not Recording
Location The Wylde Residence – New York City, New York

I’ve been at Maggie’s far more in the last week then I’ve been here. I’ve had a hard time prying myself away from her, and I guess it’s just another case of me caring too much. Maybe that’s too harsh.

I don’t know.

It’s been a rough week. She’s been hurting. She’s been angry. All totally understandable. There’s only so much I can do though. Take her where she needs to go, where she wants to go… help her, keep her in the shade as much as possible.. Make doctors appointments… Whatever I can.

So I understand her snapping at me. I guess I have been a little overprotective, or whatever the word is that I’m thinking of. Overbearing? Clingy? Jesus… Whatever it is, I figure that giving her some space away from me is probably the best thing. She’s feeling better, her eyes are doing a bit better, but she still can’t go without the glasses. The light is still excruciating.

Either way, I know that I have things to handle with my own affairs… namely the stack of papers sitting in front of me on my dining room table right now, that summons sitting neatly on top, taunting me.

“Fuck…”

It feels like a boulder is sitting on my chest, and I haven’t even began leafing through all the papers that I’ve gathered. I don’t know what good any of it’s going to do anyway. I feel like I’m fucked all the way around this time..

March 28th.

I’ve got to wait until the end of March to even try to figure any of this out. Hell, I might have to sell this place by then, just to make ends meet. It’s funny. I left CJ, and the life we had there and I was so happy to be free. I bought this place knowing, fucking knowing that my life was going to get better. And it did.

And then everything started turning to shit all over again.

Now I’m fitting to lose it all, all over again – and I’m sitting here thinking that maybe I should prepare myself to lose Maggie too. Maybe everyone else was right and I’m meant to be alone and miserable. I sure as hell am right now.

I miss her.

It’s been a few hours and I’ve not accomplished anything. I’ve sat here and cried. I’ve sat here and contemplated burning everything in this pile. I’ve considered throwing myself off the balcony a couple of times. I’ve even thought about letting JC and Maggie do whatever it is they wanted to do to my father.

As quickly as I thought it though, I put it right the fuck back away in my brain – in the furthest recesses of my mind. It’s bad enough my life is falling to shit. I don’t need to drag anyone else along with me.

I pull myself up from the chair and drag myself into the kitchen.

You shouldn’t be doing this Lucy…

“I know, I know.”

I reach into the cabinet and come back out with old faithful… Jack Daniels. I take the bottle back over to the table with me and open the cap, taking a healthy swig. Now I think I can manage to rummage through all of this bullshit…

 

I’ve seen your type before.

That smug little attitude, those subtle insults thrown in the middle of what appears to be a compliment. Shit doesn’t fly, honey. It’s childish. For example, the day you accepted my challenge, you kept trying to get me to explain myself – please tell me you’re not that fucking stupid. You must know how to read, right?

Either way, Robina – I don’t like you. I don’t like the way you handle your business, and I don’t like the way you treat my girl. Now don’t get me wrong, Maggie is more than capable of taking care of herself, I think she’s proven that quite a few times in the ring with you.

So don’t think that the ass whooping you’re about to get from me is anything other than me wanting to hurt something. Just me releasing a lot of pent up anger, and you’re just the unlucky soul that reaps that particular consequence this week.

So what’s with the spinning wheel of personalities, Megan?

What’s Megan got that Otaki and Robina don’t?

What’s Otaki good at that Robina and Megan suck at?

Is Robina even good at anything?

She’s the bitch that lost you your championship, ain’t she? Two hundred days, plus a couple. Forgive me, I’m not going to go ask Maggie how long your historic reign was. It’s honestly not worth it. I’m a former champion in my own right, but I suppose you know that if you’ve watched anything that has to do with UGWC… or did you really just come here to ‘get your ass kicked’?

I mean I’m totally cool with it if you did. I’m fine with showing you a good time and then sending you packing. You probably don’t want to stick around anyway, French Bitch will probably call you a slut a couple of times and try to find your missing family members too.

BY THE WAY, how’s that kid of yours?

You got her back, right? I mean I wasn’t sure, considering it didn’t really seem like you gave that much of a shit that someone fucking stole her. Kept right on wrestling matches, like nothing was missing.

I used to have a son. I use that term loosely because CJ adopted him without me knowing. He died. He died a day after the adoption was finalized. It hurt. Jesus Christ it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever experienced, and trust me – I’ve felt a lot of fucking hurt over my lifetime. Over a kid I didn’t even know. Over a kid that idolized my ex-husband…

Why am I telling you this?

Because I cannot possibly fathom the concept of… You know what? Nevermind. You obviously did what you did for a reason and if I’m being totally honest with myself – I have no room to judge you.

We’re not here to bash each other’s personal lives.

We’re here to bash each others faces in.

Shall we?

 

OOC: Maggie used with permission!