Post by priscilla on Nov 12, 2023 17:13:14 GMT -6
He loved me. Deeply. But, I couldn’t love him. Or, rather, I couldn’t let him love me. Since she died, I couldn’t love myself. So, how could I let someone else love me? He couldn’t understand, couldn’t fathom what was rolling through my weed-soaked mind. How could he?
When Z finally walked away, it hit me.
I had lost them all, honestly.
I didn’t have anyone, anymore. Not really. I had no one to turn to when the thoughts began to creep in. No one to tell me I shouldn’t try and find the one who caused this. No one to fucking stop me!
Would I have listened? Probably not. Would I have let them steer me off the path of what would have most certainly been my death? Most certainly not. I wouldn’t be her daughter if I listened. That was what Mom was known for. Doing her own thing; fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. How else do you think the Prophet got her name?
Think she chucked a dart at a fucking dictionary?
No. She listened to a higher power when it spoke, and she acted accordingly. Something, honestly, Aunt Widow couldn’t understand. They all thought Mom was crazy, hell, I did sometimes too. But, that never stopped her from doing what needed to be done.
Now, it was my turn.
I had spent the last year searching. Researching his movements. Tracking down as much information as humanly possible on where this fucker had vanished. Granted, he didn’t kill Mom, but he threw her down the road to her bullshit redemption. He triggered a domino effect that was more catastrophic to me, than I could even begin to describe.
When Dad died, Mom started down the road for revenge, and in the process, saved me. But then, Mom ate pavement, Mama and Papa flew the coop, followed by J.J. and Diesel. How could I not feel absolutely abandoned? Hell, I felt utterly crushed. Cold and fucking alone.
Krew towers hadn’t been the same since Mom ceased to exist, Cela did her best, but let’s be real; she wasn’t Dru White. Who was?
No one.
The penthouse was too lonely, since I’d packed up all of Mom’s things. We’d framed her cut, and it stayed over the Altar, but everywhere I looked, I saw her. I could feel her. Hell, I smelled her cigarettes all over the damned apartment. Reaper was gone, but I kept his cat tower by Mom’s wrestling stuff. I kept Mama and Papa’s photos all over the place, but they were a constant reminder of what I’d lost. What I had, briefly, was a family.
That was why he left me. I couldn’t talk to him about it, I couldn’t explain it all to him. He knew about the rage, and he dealt with it as best he could but he was only human. I, however, dealt with it poorly. I lashed out at anyone close. Including him. Especially him. I snarled at Cela. I barked at Widow. I even snapped at Zion, when she checked in on me. Did I regret it?
Yes… And no…
I hurt on such a metaphysical level, that even I wasn’t safe from the storm. I had done many things in the year since Mom died, and not a single person knew.
I left a wake of destruction in my path.
I was a Judge, Jury and Executioner.
I slaughtered any one who stepped against me, and I left their broken bodies for anyone to see. I didn’t care anymore. Maybe, I never really did to begin with. Maybe I was made for this, or maybe, I was made because of this. I knew what Mom did outside of wrestling and the club, but it never bothered me. She never scared me. Maybe she should have. If she had, maybe I wouldn’t have fallen down into this place of absolute butchery.
Now, when I say I went dark, I don’t mean “Oh look, she’s goth… Boo hoo…” No… I went violent. Bloodlust. I could taste the copper in my mouth, when I fought someone. And, as loath as I am to admit it; I liked it.
A few weeks later….
I was sitting in Moms office, reading through some of her journals when the phone began to ring. I didn’t recognize the number, so I lit a cigarette and went back to reading.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
Four rings.
The machine clicked on, rousing me from my daydream, but the voice on the other end was one I didn’t recognize.
“Ohhh MiSS DRuSCiLLa, it’s ya boy, Johnny Stylez! Lemme run you somethin! I got this idea, you, me, N.E.W. Heard of it? Naaaah, bet. Ya did. If not, lissen’ere. This fed is MADE fo’ ya girl. The Prophet….”
As he droned on and on about a place called O.P.W., and her accolades, it hurt. I never really got to see her in the ring. Sure, I saw videos, photos, but never really her go blow for blow. She always either made me stay home, or watch from backstage.
“Dru, lissen up, for you, let’s make a deal. You come back on over to the DuB and own the ring, I’ll buy stock in DruBrew. It’s LiTeRaLLy too PeRFecT TO PaSS UP, hit me up. My digits are…”
I scrambled for a pen, jotting the address and number down on moms desk pad. This was it! This was how I let loose some of my rage.
I was going to sign up.
I, Priscilla La Roux - White, was going to be a wrestler!
I bolted from her office to my room, grabbed her old duffle and started filling it. Anything I’d need. Clothes. Makeup. Toiletries. Reaper’s urn. Photos of Mom, Mama and Henry. But, the one thing I didn’t take, was Moms cut. I left that above the mantle.
I stood in the foyer for a bit, overlooking what I was leaving behind, not permanently, but for a while. I wrote a note for Cela and taped it to the frame holding Moms cut. I loved my Aunt and Uncle and baby cousins but.. I needed to do this. I needed to prove who I was outside of work and helping run Moms businesses with Cela. This opened up more doors than one would realize.
This opened the door for me to paint the world red. To spill the blood of anyone who wronged my family.
To slit the throats of those who snubbed their nose at me.
Once the door shut behind me, everything was a blur.
A few weeks later….
I had signed a contract with New Edge Wrestling. Found a nice loft apartment, and even ended up adopting a couple friends. Turns out, Moms breeder was in Chicago and needed a hand. Cela was very upset with me, but what could she do? I wasn’t part of the MC, never patched in. I couldn’t after Mom… She came up to Chicago shortly after I’d left, with Diesel in tow, and both tried to make me come home. Of course, I refused. I was in the middle of training. NEW had a royal rumble coming up, and while I wasn’t technically booked, that wasn’t going to stop me from showing up and breaking tradition.
I had two bottle-baby kittens I was caring for, a wrestling company that welcomed me with open arms, and even a new stomping ground. What more could I want? Well, the blood of the fucker who sent me mother to the grave, but that wasn’t exactly a possibility.
“Cela, I can’t. I can’t go back.” I looked across the table at her, pushing my hair out of my face. Diesel stood behind her. He hadn’t been the same since she died, and I doubt ever would be. None of us would be. Even Cela was different. She growled at me, but I hardened my gaze. I wasn’t going to buckle. “Go home, Cela. This isn’t your decision. I’m not a child anymore. That shit sailed a long time ago.” Diesel scoffed. “Ship…” He added. I rolled my eyes. Cela stood up, at the end of the table, waggled a finger at me and began her lecture. “I promised her I would watch out for you. I cannot do that if you’re in Chicago, doing something foolish, and I’m in New York. I do not have a charter here, Priscilla!” Her voice was barely above a growl.
I sucked in a hard breath, growling low. “I don’t care if there’s not a fucking charter here, it’s not my club! I wasn’t born for that life, Cela, I wasn’t born to be watched or pampered or be like you!” I snarled, standing up, I knocked the chair backwards behind me. “I AM NOT HER!” Little did I know…
Cela jumped slightly at my outburst, narrowed her eyes at me. “Little girl, you are more like her than you realize! But FINE! Stay.” She sighed. But it was Diesel who raised his voice. “Do your little wrestling thing… Just like Dru. Run away from your family and strike out on your own… Just like Dru. Scream into the void and hate everything around you… Just like Dru.” He was angry, and I suppose for good reason, but he wasn’t finished. He pulled a file out of his cut and slammed it on the table, causing me to jump just slightly. “Read this. And if you still think you are nothing like her, I’ll send the rest of your shit. Make sure you’re comfy in this… shithole and You won’t ever have to worry about coming back. Got it? Kid? I’m not going to fucking sit by and watch you kill yourself over this shit.” I could see the tears in his eyes. “What would Shanna fucking say Priscilla?” He snapped.
I cringed, briefly. Sure, we’d bonded over this. And I cared about her, but deep down, it was her mothers fault mine was dead. Had Robi not run off into the night, Mom wouldn’t have followed. As much as I cared for Shanna… I held her partly to blame, on behalf of her own dead mother. I went silent for a moment, closed my eyes and sighed. Before… “SHE’S DOING THE EXACT SAME THING, D!” I lit a cigarette and growled, a little louder now. I saw the disgust in their faces as I lit the thing and took a drag, but let’s be real; I didn’t care. “She’s throwing herself in the same fucking ring. Breaking herself for the same fucking reason. Are you staging an intervention there, too?” Before Cela or Diesel could speak, I held my hand up. “Forget it. Fuck. IF she were here, she’d be cheering me on, not tearing me fucking down. I signed my contract with New Edge Wrestling, and there isn’t a fucking thing any one, not even YOU, DIESEL can do about it. I did it because I WANTED TO!” I grabbed the file off the table and shook my head. “Lock the door behind you.” I bit the inside of my cheek and walked into my bedroom. I didn’t slam the door, but I did flip the lock. I could hear him sigh. “Forget it Cels, she doesn’t get it.” “D… We can’t leave her. We promised Dru…”
“What can we do, babe? She doesn’t want to listen. She’s so stuck in this fucking world of wrestling, legacy and shiny fucking belt buckles… She can’t see the truth in front of her Godsdamned face!” He hugged his wife close, I couldn’t hear what was said next, but I did hear shuffling around. “You gave her the file. Maybe she’ll come home… Maybe she’ll see…” Cela took a deep breath and sighed, looking at her husband. “She’ll snap out of this, she’s more like her mother than even You see….”
As the two left, they made sure someone stayed behind. I had no idea he was with them, let alone trusted to be around. Jack wasn’t someone I knew well, vaguely, but he was one Mom trusted implicitly. He’d taken up the apartment across from me. He’d been there the day I signed on with N.E.W. He’d even been there the day I did the promotional piece for N.E.W.
I had no clue.
The kittens mewled and hollered as I came into the room. At least they cared. I snagged them from the little pen I had set up and tucked them in my hoodie. They were almost weaned, but still loved being cuddled. Their purring was soothing. Almost like a drug. It calmed me down, from which I had been fuming. They come into MY home and say shit I didn’t want to hear. Sure, I probably needed to hear it, but that doesn't mean I wanted to. I flopped on the bed, cradling the two kittens as I did, and looked at the file in my hands. From the desk of Druscilla White. Lovely.
Opening it slowly, I ashed my cigarette in the ashtray beside me and sighed heavily. As I read the pages, my jaw dropped. These were photo copies of letters between Mom, my father and the Lacroix family…
One read:
“Andre,
She’s my daughter. Mine and Dru’s. She doesn’t know, hell, I’m not sure anyone did. If you’ve received this; I’m dead. My wish is that you keep her safe. Enclosed are the personal accounts, and the paperwork making you the executor of what estate I had. Do with it as you wish. Spoil your girls. Benefit the needy. Store in the warchest; whatever you choose. All I ask is that you make sure Priscilla is taken care of.
Dru and I did the best we could, with what we had then. And the choices we made, I’m sure, have made you angry. I’m sorry. Time was not on our side. We kept a watchful eye on her, as I’m sure you will, but we were only able to do so much.
She doesn’t know she’s Lacroix. I doubt she even knew who I was.
Her life….”
I stopped reading then, flabbergasted at what I had just learned. Was everything a lie?? Had NOTHING she told me been true? I grabbed my cell phone and pulled up her number and stopped. I gasped. Tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t even call her. I couldn’t ask if this was true. I covered my mouth, hiding my sobs, as I wasn’t sure Diesel and Cela had left. The kittens, now worried, fought to climb out of my hoodie and bumped their tiny heads against my face.
I shattered. I kicked my new ring gear off the other side of my bed and buried my face in a pillow. The kittens mewling beside me.
I had training sessions for N.E.W., another photo shoot and interview and even a show I’d planned on crashing. I had too much on my plate for this shit. Gods have mercy on the people at Ignite…
When Z finally walked away, it hit me.
I had lost them all, honestly.
Mom.
Dad.
Mama.
Papa.
J.J.
Uncle Diesel.
Zachariah.
Dad.
Mama.
Papa.
J.J.
Uncle Diesel.
Zachariah.
I didn’t have anyone, anymore. Not really. I had no one to turn to when the thoughts began to creep in. No one to tell me I shouldn’t try and find the one who caused this. No one to fucking stop me!
Would I have listened? Probably not. Would I have let them steer me off the path of what would have most certainly been my death? Most certainly not. I wouldn’t be her daughter if I listened. That was what Mom was known for. Doing her own thing; fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. How else do you think the Prophet got her name?
Think she chucked a dart at a fucking dictionary?
No. She listened to a higher power when it spoke, and she acted accordingly. Something, honestly, Aunt Widow couldn’t understand. They all thought Mom was crazy, hell, I did sometimes too. But, that never stopped her from doing what needed to be done.
Now, it was my turn.
I had spent the last year searching. Researching his movements. Tracking down as much information as humanly possible on where this fucker had vanished. Granted, he didn’t kill Mom, but he threw her down the road to her bullshit redemption. He triggered a domino effect that was more catastrophic to me, than I could even begin to describe.
He.
Took.
EVERYONE.
Took.
EVERYONE.
When Dad died, Mom started down the road for revenge, and in the process, saved me. But then, Mom ate pavement, Mama and Papa flew the coop, followed by J.J. and Diesel. How could I not feel absolutely abandoned? Hell, I felt utterly crushed. Cold and fucking alone.
Krew towers hadn’t been the same since Mom ceased to exist, Cela did her best, but let’s be real; she wasn’t Dru White. Who was?
No one.
The penthouse was too lonely, since I’d packed up all of Mom’s things. We’d framed her cut, and it stayed over the Altar, but everywhere I looked, I saw her. I could feel her. Hell, I smelled her cigarettes all over the damned apartment. Reaper was gone, but I kept his cat tower by Mom’s wrestling stuff. I kept Mama and Papa’s photos all over the place, but they were a constant reminder of what I’d lost. What I had, briefly, was a family.
That was why he left me. I couldn’t talk to him about it, I couldn’t explain it all to him. He knew about the rage, and he dealt with it as best he could but he was only human. I, however, dealt with it poorly. I lashed out at anyone close. Including him. Especially him. I snarled at Cela. I barked at Widow. I even snapped at Zion, when she checked in on me. Did I regret it?
Yes… And no…
I hurt on such a metaphysical level, that even I wasn’t safe from the storm. I had done many things in the year since Mom died, and not a single person knew.
I went dark.
Vicious.
Crazed.
Rabid.
Feral.
Dark.
Vicious.
Crazed.
Rabid.
Feral.
Dark.
I left a wake of destruction in my path.
I was a Judge, Jury and Executioner.
I slaughtered any one who stepped against me, and I left their broken bodies for anyone to see. I didn’t care anymore. Maybe, I never really did to begin with. Maybe I was made for this, or maybe, I was made because of this. I knew what Mom did outside of wrestling and the club, but it never bothered me. She never scared me. Maybe she should have. If she had, maybe I wouldn’t have fallen down into this place of absolute butchery.
Now, when I say I went dark, I don’t mean “Oh look, she’s goth… Boo hoo…” No… I went violent. Bloodlust. I could taste the copper in my mouth, when I fought someone. And, as loath as I am to admit it; I liked it.
A few weeks later….
I was sitting in Moms office, reading through some of her journals when the phone began to ring. I didn’t recognize the number, so I lit a cigarette and went back to reading.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
Four rings.
The machine clicked on, rousing me from my daydream, but the voice on the other end was one I didn’t recognize.
“Ohhh MiSS DRuSCiLLa, it’s ya boy, Johnny Stylez! Lemme run you somethin! I got this idea, you, me, N.E.W. Heard of it? Naaaah, bet. Ya did. If not, lissen’ere. This fed is MADE fo’ ya girl. The Prophet….”
As he droned on and on about a place called O.P.W., and her accolades, it hurt. I never really got to see her in the ring. Sure, I saw videos, photos, but never really her go blow for blow. She always either made me stay home, or watch from backstage.
“Dru, lissen up, for you, let’s make a deal. You come back on over to the DuB and own the ring, I’ll buy stock in DruBrew. It’s LiTeRaLLy too PeRFecT TO PaSS UP, hit me up. My digits are…”
I scrambled for a pen, jotting the address and number down on moms desk pad. This was it! This was how I let loose some of my rage.
I was going to sign up.
I, Priscilla La Roux - White, was going to be a wrestler!
I bolted from her office to my room, grabbed her old duffle and started filling it. Anything I’d need. Clothes. Makeup. Toiletries. Reaper’s urn. Photos of Mom, Mama and Henry. But, the one thing I didn’t take, was Moms cut. I left that above the mantle.
I stood in the foyer for a bit, overlooking what I was leaving behind, not permanently, but for a while. I wrote a note for Cela and taped it to the frame holding Moms cut. I loved my Aunt and Uncle and baby cousins but.. I needed to do this. I needed to prove who I was outside of work and helping run Moms businesses with Cela. This opened up more doors than one would realize.
This opened the door for me to paint the world red. To spill the blood of anyone who wronged my family.
To slit the throats of those who snubbed their nose at me.
Once the door shut behind me, everything was a blur.
A few weeks later….
I had signed a contract with New Edge Wrestling. Found a nice loft apartment, and even ended up adopting a couple friends. Turns out, Moms breeder was in Chicago and needed a hand. Cela was very upset with me, but what could she do? I wasn’t part of the MC, never patched in. I couldn’t after Mom… She came up to Chicago shortly after I’d left, with Diesel in tow, and both tried to make me come home. Of course, I refused. I was in the middle of training. NEW had a royal rumble coming up, and while I wasn’t technically booked, that wasn’t going to stop me from showing up and breaking tradition.
I had two bottle-baby kittens I was caring for, a wrestling company that welcomed me with open arms, and even a new stomping ground. What more could I want? Well, the blood of the fucker who sent me mother to the grave, but that wasn’t exactly a possibility.
“Cela, I can’t. I can’t go back.” I looked across the table at her, pushing my hair out of my face. Diesel stood behind her. He hadn’t been the same since she died, and I doubt ever would be. None of us would be. Even Cela was different. She growled at me, but I hardened my gaze. I wasn’t going to buckle. “Go home, Cela. This isn’t your decision. I’m not a child anymore. That shit sailed a long time ago.” Diesel scoffed. “Ship…” He added. I rolled my eyes. Cela stood up, at the end of the table, waggled a finger at me and began her lecture. “I promised her I would watch out for you. I cannot do that if you’re in Chicago, doing something foolish, and I’m in New York. I do not have a charter here, Priscilla!” Her voice was barely above a growl.
I sucked in a hard breath, growling low. “I don’t care if there’s not a fucking charter here, it’s not my club! I wasn’t born for that life, Cela, I wasn’t born to be watched or pampered or be like you!” I snarled, standing up, I knocked the chair backwards behind me. “I AM NOT HER!” Little did I know…
Cela jumped slightly at my outburst, narrowed her eyes at me. “Little girl, you are more like her than you realize! But FINE! Stay.” She sighed. But it was Diesel who raised his voice. “Do your little wrestling thing… Just like Dru. Run away from your family and strike out on your own… Just like Dru. Scream into the void and hate everything around you… Just like Dru.” He was angry, and I suppose for good reason, but he wasn’t finished. He pulled a file out of his cut and slammed it on the table, causing me to jump just slightly. “Read this. And if you still think you are nothing like her, I’ll send the rest of your shit. Make sure you’re comfy in this… shithole and You won’t ever have to worry about coming back. Got it? Kid? I’m not going to fucking sit by and watch you kill yourself over this shit.” I could see the tears in his eyes. “What would Shanna fucking say Priscilla?” He snapped.
I cringed, briefly. Sure, we’d bonded over this. And I cared about her, but deep down, it was her mothers fault mine was dead. Had Robi not run off into the night, Mom wouldn’t have followed. As much as I cared for Shanna… I held her partly to blame, on behalf of her own dead mother. I went silent for a moment, closed my eyes and sighed. Before… “SHE’S DOING THE EXACT SAME THING, D!” I lit a cigarette and growled, a little louder now. I saw the disgust in their faces as I lit the thing and took a drag, but let’s be real; I didn’t care. “She’s throwing herself in the same fucking ring. Breaking herself for the same fucking reason. Are you staging an intervention there, too?” Before Cela or Diesel could speak, I held my hand up. “Forget it. Fuck. IF she were here, she’d be cheering me on, not tearing me fucking down. I signed my contract with New Edge Wrestling, and there isn’t a fucking thing any one, not even YOU, DIESEL can do about it. I did it because I WANTED TO!” I grabbed the file off the table and shook my head. “Lock the door behind you.” I bit the inside of my cheek and walked into my bedroom. I didn’t slam the door, but I did flip the lock. I could hear him sigh. “Forget it Cels, she doesn’t get it.” “D… We can’t leave her. We promised Dru…”
“What can we do, babe? She doesn’t want to listen. She’s so stuck in this fucking world of wrestling, legacy and shiny fucking belt buckles… She can’t see the truth in front of her Godsdamned face!” He hugged his wife close, I couldn’t hear what was said next, but I did hear shuffling around. “You gave her the file. Maybe she’ll come home… Maybe she’ll see…” Cela took a deep breath and sighed, looking at her husband. “She’ll snap out of this, she’s more like her mother than even You see….”
As the two left, they made sure someone stayed behind. I had no idea he was with them, let alone trusted to be around. Jack wasn’t someone I knew well, vaguely, but he was one Mom trusted implicitly. He’d taken up the apartment across from me. He’d been there the day I signed on with N.E.W. He’d even been there the day I did the promotional piece for N.E.W.
I had no clue.
The kittens mewled and hollered as I came into the room. At least they cared. I snagged them from the little pen I had set up and tucked them in my hoodie. They were almost weaned, but still loved being cuddled. Their purring was soothing. Almost like a drug. It calmed me down, from which I had been fuming. They come into MY home and say shit I didn’t want to hear. Sure, I probably needed to hear it, but that doesn't mean I wanted to. I flopped on the bed, cradling the two kittens as I did, and looked at the file in my hands. From the desk of Druscilla White. Lovely.
Opening it slowly, I ashed my cigarette in the ashtray beside me and sighed heavily. As I read the pages, my jaw dropped. These were photo copies of letters between Mom, my father and the Lacroix family…
One read:
“Andre,
She’s my daughter. Mine and Dru’s. She doesn’t know, hell, I’m not sure anyone did. If you’ve received this; I’m dead. My wish is that you keep her safe. Enclosed are the personal accounts, and the paperwork making you the executor of what estate I had. Do with it as you wish. Spoil your girls. Benefit the needy. Store in the warchest; whatever you choose. All I ask is that you make sure Priscilla is taken care of.
Dru and I did the best we could, with what we had then. And the choices we made, I’m sure, have made you angry. I’m sorry. Time was not on our side. We kept a watchful eye on her, as I’m sure you will, but we were only able to do so much.
She doesn’t know she’s Lacroix. I doubt she even knew who I was.
Her life….”
I stopped reading then, flabbergasted at what I had just learned. Was everything a lie?? Had NOTHING she told me been true? I grabbed my cell phone and pulled up her number and stopped. I gasped. Tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t even call her. I couldn’t ask if this was true. I covered my mouth, hiding my sobs, as I wasn’t sure Diesel and Cela had left. The kittens, now worried, fought to climb out of my hoodie and bumped their tiny heads against my face.
I shattered. I kicked my new ring gear off the other side of my bed and buried my face in a pillow. The kittens mewling beside me.
What the fuck else?
Any more fucking shoes?
Any more fucking shoes?
I had training sessions for N.E.W., another photo shoot and interview and even a show I’d planned on crashing. I had too much on my plate for this shit. Gods have mercy on the people at Ignite…
My phone began to ring…
There was the other fucking shoe…
There was the other fucking shoe…