“Ain’t that just what the fuck I needed?!”

I shout to no one in particular, storming through the backstage on my way back to my locker room after Donovan decided to stick his nose where it didn’t belong… again. I get to the door and throw it open, nearly knocking Rogan off of his seat in surprise.

“Lucy!”

I don’t even acknowledge him, ripping my gloves off my hands and throwing them across the room.

“Fucking Hastings!”

Finally, I turn around and glare at him, to find him nodding his head – his face showing the disgust we both probably feel.

“I know, I don’t know what business he had out there.”

“That’s fucking simple. None.”

I spit, bringing myself down to sit beside him.

“I’m getting sick of people taking me out just to further their own worthless careers.”

It’s frustrating. It’s more than frustrating. Tony and I were having a great match. To be fair, it felt like he was handing me my ass out there, and everytime he targeted my arm… I felt like my shoulder was going to pop out again. It didn’t. But God damn, he made me believe more than once that I wasn’t ready to come back. Not by a long shot.

And for Donovan to pop in and ruin it when I was trying to come back?

“It just pisses me off.”

“I know..”

Rogan replies quietly, I can see him move his hand towards mine, but at the last second, he pulls it away and lays his hand in his own lap.

“It doesn’t feel like it right now, but it’ll be okay.”

I sigh and shake my head.

“Yeah.”

I say bitterly. I don’t have anything else to say. He’s always trying to show me the positives in everything. But sometimes there aren’t any positives to see.

I bring myself back up to my feet and I can feel his eyes watching me intently as I begin to gather my things.

“I just want to go.. Because if I see Donovan… I might fucking kill him.”

Rogan whispers something under his breath as he grabs a few things and heads for the door. When I turn around and hoist my bag up onto my shoulder, wincing as I do so – I see that concern in his eyes.. The same concern I’ve seen for the last two weeks.

“I’m fine.”

I cut him off before he can say anything, but as I’m trying to move out the door, he stops me, gently.

“Lucy.. I’ve kept quiet for a while now..”

He begins, those soft green eyes of his settling on mine.

“But I think you’d really oughta see a doctor about that shoulder..”

I don’t want to, but he may be right. And right now, I don’t know if I have the strength to dismiss him.

“Fine.  Yeah.. Let’s go.”

Rogan pulls my bag off of my shoulder and places it upon his, before he moves aside and lets me move past him. I force a smile onto my lips and thank him quietly – even though all I can think about is why… Why is he doing this.. And how can he even look at me anymore?

It makes me feel helpless..

And pathetic.

It makes me feel… Disgusting.

Like I deserve to suffer for failing him.

 

We came back from the hospital with a few medications and instructions for me to take it easy on my shoulder for a few weeks. Little did they know that there wasn’t much chance of that actually happening. But we came back and went straight to bed.

No fire.

No talking.

We haven’t really done much of that lately, which is probably my fault too. But I’ve already accepted that.

It took Rogan a while to doze off, so I closed my eyes to make it look like I’d already fallen asleep. Finally I heard his breathing slow after he laid his arm over my midsection, and I knew he was out. But no matter how hard I tried to relax.. Here I am, staring at the darkened ceiling. Making out all the little details of the boring, yet functional architecture of this room.

I can’t move too much, I don’t want to wake him.

I hope that staring at an empty ceiling will bore me into slumber, but I know from past experience that it’s not going to happen. My mind just won’t quiet down enough to allow that. I let out a quiet sigh, and turn my head just enough to stare at Rogan’s face as it’s shrouded in shadows.

My heart hurts when I look at him. What the hell have I done in my life to deserve him, and everything he’s done to try to keep my head above water? All I ever do is fail you.. I think to myself as I take in the lines of his face, one by one until I feel the corners of my eyes stinging with tears.

I turn my focus back onto the ceiling just as he moves around in his sleep, pulling his arm away as he rolls over. Part of me wants to roll over and cuddle up close to him, but the part of me that ends up winning out is the part that wants me to get up and go outside.

And that’s exactly what I do – I gently push the blankets off of my body and slide off the bed, careful to not rock the RV while making my way towards the door. I stop and look back at him once more before leaving – and grabbing a bottle of something on my way out.

 

The wind has picked up, and it immediately sends a chill coursing down my spine. Momentarily I consider going back in for a blanket, or a sweatshirt, but then I remember that I’ve got something in my hand that’ll warm me up just fine – even if I don’t restart the fire. Although I do toss a log into the fire ring, figuring it’ll be there if I decide to later.

I take a seat and unscrew the lid of the bottle, taking a healthy swig of whatever dark liquid lies within. I close my eyes and lean back, letting it burn the entire way down… It hurts, but it takes away from the aches and pains I feel elsewhere.

If only it could stop my mind, though.

With enough drinks.. It would…

So I take another drink. This one doesn’t taste as good as the first, though. It doesn’t burn the same way, it doesn’t distract me the same way..

“That’s because deep down, you don’t want to forget.”

I sit up in an instant, looking around to figure out where the strange voice came from. But unsurprisingly, there’s no one there.

“You’re wrong.”

I whisper into the air, as I take another swig defiantly, while reclining in my seat.

“Am I, though? You don’t believe a word you’re saying.”

I move to look around again, but when I glance back at the fire ring, I see a dark, shadowy figure standing on the other side of it – its hands on its hips. I close my eyes and shake my head but when I open them – it’s still standing there.

“Who in the fuck are you supposed to be?”

I hiss, trying not to wake Rogan. This ain’t the first time I’ve seen some weird shit, and it probably won’t be the last, so I just stare at it.. Awaiting an answer.

“Who I am, doesn’t matter. Just look at you. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

I scoff.

“Why am I doing what?”

A disembodied sigh comes from the direction where the shadow is standing.

“You know…”

I shake my head.

Why am I even having this conversation? In what world do I need to explain myself to something that isn’t even there?

“I’m here… You just can’t accept it because you don’t know who I am.”

I don’t reply straight away. Instead I just stare at the bottle resting on my lap. Drinking has always been my go-to when I want to forget something, or if I want to dull physical or emotional pain. But now? I don’t even want to take another drink.. I just let it fall to the ground at my feet and sigh.

“I failed him.”

“And?”

“And, what? Isn’t that enough? All the shit he does for me and I fuck it all up.”

Saying those words out loud makes my chest tighten and again, I feel the pressure pushing against the corners of my eyes, but I blink it away.

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re doing this. Don’t you understand?”

“The hell it doesn’t. Rogan’s a good man and he doesn’t need me dragging him down.”

I hear the door to the RV open, and I turn around to see Rogan standing in the doorway – but when I turn back, the shadow is gone.

“Are you okay, Lass?”

I nod my head, my eyes never leaving the spot where it stood.

“Yeah.. I’m okay.”

I know Rogan is going through some shit too, losing to Tempest.. It put a real sour taste in his mouth. I can’t say I blame him. But it was never supposed to be Tempest standing in front of him in that match – not because I think Rogan can’t beat him.. But because it was supposed to be me God dammit.

It was supposed to be me… It was supposed to be win or lose… we’d both be happy at the end of it, and now? Neither one of us are…

And he just refuses to cut out the dead flesh and move on with his life.. And do the things I know he can do.

But you’re not rushing to get the scalpel either, are you?

I hear the voice in my mind and I shake my head, glancing back at Rogan – shaking my head.

“Just.. Just couldn’t sleep…”

 

The Dark Lady sat alone on the ground, amid what seemed to be a forest of trees.  The sun shone between the branches as leaves fell, raining Autumn all around her.  For a while, she sat quietly, contemplatively.. the battle wounds of the last month still showing – from the bandages still wrapped around her left arm, to the singed part of her hair still showing through when she turned her head a certain way.

Lucy winces as she stretches out her bad shoulder as she finally brings her eyes up to look at the viewing audience.

“Seems like we’ve been here before, Ezra.  Except now, the roles are reversed.”

She shrugs and continues.

“Last time, you were talking to a world champ, and you were looking to make an impression at my expense.  And while you didn’t beat me, look at you now.”

She motions towards the lens.

“Conquest Champ.  Seems like you’ve got your wish.  We see you now, and now.. You’re the one with the target on your back.”

Looking up at the sky momentarily, she lets out a soft sigh.

“I’m sure you already know what lies ahead for you, if you’re lucky enough to make it to five successful defenses.  You’re not an idiot, I’m sure.   And while in some fucked up universe, beating Konrad in your first defense would be considered impressive.. You’ll forgive me if I don’t clap you on the back for a job well done.   You got a bye in the first round, Ezra.. Take that for what you will.  But now you’re heading into dangerous territory, boy… And while I know you’re looking at me as someone who just lost the world title, someone who you might just be able to slip by and make it to the next…”

She turns her gaze back down into the camera, her eyes narrowing.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.   Unless you’re packing a crane… You don’t have a good chance at getting as lucky as Tempest and Travis Pierce did.   The Conquest title is the only one that’s eluded me and the way I see it, now is as good a time as any to make my way back where I belong.. And relieve you of the pressure that I ain’t so sure you can handle.”

“Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe you’ve got Eziekel in your ear telling you everything you need to hear… hyping you up so that you believe you can accomplish the impossible.  Good for him, and good for you.  But be careful… they’re only words, Ezra.  They can’t win matches for you.  They can’t make you better than what you really are.. I learned that one the hard way.”

She shakes her head.

“All I’m saying is.. be realistic.  About yourself, about your chances… About where you believe you belong.  And most importantly.. about what you’re capable of.   I know.. through a lot of trial and error.. what I’m capable of, and right now.. I’m more than capable of knocking you on your ass and taking that belt off of you.  I’m more than capable of teaching you a lesson that no one else around here could.. That you ain’t as good as you think you are.”

She spits into the grass at her feet.

“None of us are.  See you on Monday.”