02-15-2020, 03:15 PM
02-15-2020, 03:21 PM
2015...
Annabelle sat in the far corner, blood covering the caked up face paint she applied to her skin before every match. Her female opponent for the evening laid on her stomach, her head in prime position for Annabelle to strike if she could summon the strength to pull herself up. The gymnasium full of fans buzzing over what has been a hard fought content between two women who were being paid to entertain them. Annabelle grabbed hold of the middle ropes on each side to slowly steady herself back to a standing position. Her opponent uses her hands to push her body off the mat. Annabelle couldn’t take her eyes on her. She licked her lips, eyeing her prey, knowing if she could nail this one move she would win the match, a message would be sent, her bloodlust would be satiated. She is a Burchard after all. Hurting people is the reputation her family had gained, no sense in denying what she was born to do. As long as she didn’t take a life, that was her only rule.
Fully to a standing position, Annabelle used the last bit of stamina she had left to charge at her opponent, prepping her right leg as she always did, her wrestling boot smashed perfectly into the temple of her opponent. With the punt kick complete, she stood still. The crowd in the gymnasium joined in combined shock, her devastating punt was a move that sent shivers through small venues across the local NY indy scene. Once she connected, game over. Licking her lips once more, Annabelle turned around, the referee checking on her opponent. When Annabelle went to go for the pin, the referee protested.
This didn’t make Annabelle happy. She grabbed the referee by the shirt color.
“Get out my way!!” Annabelle snarled.
Not intimidated, the male referee said with full authority, “She’s out!! She can’t move!”
To further drive the point home, the referee crosses his arms. The “X” is the universal signal for something went wrong that was not supposed to. Annabelle’s eyes widen. She let go of the referee, retreated the corner she was in, dropped back down to the mat. Her eyes don’t leave the referee as he checks on her fallen opponent. He throws up the “X” one more time. Medical personnel rush to the ring as fast they can with a stretcher in toe. Annabelle was able to block out the visceral response from the capacity crowd. Deciding there was nothing she could do, she rolled under the bottom rope. She walked to the back. A fan tossed crumpled up paper that connected. She didn’t mind that. One fan thought it was a bright idea to toss his beer in her direction. Without thinking she grabbed that male fan, yanked him over the guard rail and pounced on him. She jammed two of her fingers, mandible claw style, down his throat.
“I’m going to kill you!! Annabelle screamed.
Before she could follow through on her threat, security was quick on their feet. They grabbed her off the fan. Dragging her to the back with her kicking her legs trying to get free, she screamed out, “LET ME GO!”
Having been dragged to the back, she was greeted by an elder gentleman in a grey suit. Stuby beard. He clearly wasn’t amused.“What happened out there?”
With the security still holding Annabelle at bay, she said, “It was an accident. I swear.”
“Are you sure?” the older gentleman asked.
“Tell these nice men to let me go!” Annabelle said.
The older gentleman looked at the two muscle bound members of the security force he hires to ensure the events he promotes don’t get out of hand. He shakes his head.
Annabelle sighs. She can’t believe it has come to this. “Afraid of me?”
“Well--” the older gentleman hesitates to answer.
Annabelle doesn’t need him too. “I swear. What happened in the ring was an accident. I never intended to knock her out. The fan--” she licks her lips. “He should have known better. I won’t apologize for that.”
The older gentleman rubs his temple. “Reggie. Paul. Take her outside.”
“Seriously, Mick?! So it’s like that! I am your top draw! Your promotion would be dead in the water without me!” Annabelle snapped back.
“And you are also the daughter of a serial killer. I can’t afford the liability of having you on the roster anymore. Not after that. I’m sorry Anna--”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. A wad of spit connects with his face. “FUCK YOU!”
Mick motions to Reggie and Paul to escort Annabelle out of the building. She isn’t given the chance to retrieve her clothes. Like trash, Reggie and Paul toss her out the building in the cold winter. They close the door behind him. The last thing on Annabelle’s mind was the 20 degree weather. She sat down on the cold pavement. The only real thought on her mind was whether the woman she punted in the forhead was going to be ok.
She needed to be ok...
--
Annabelle did manage to get back inside the building. Retrieving her belongings as fast she could without getting noticed, she got in her used up BMW and drove back home. She contemplated going to the hospital to check on the woman she knocked out. She had no faith anyone would allow a well meaning gesture to happen. The promoter reminded her she is the daughter of a serial killer. She made no apologies in the past about using her family's inner demons as part of her wrestling presentation. How many people would actually care she thought to herself, this is wrestling, it is a violent sport, fans are all about watching the sideshow in the ring to distract themselves from their lives or to make themselves feel better. The day something went wrong, it is no longer wrestling. So Annabelle convinced herself there was nothing she could do. She laid on the couch comforted by a dark room.
Darkness. Would she continue to live her life in darkness...
--
Annabelle, without the face paint, sat down in front of bullet proof glass. She stared at the prison guard standing beside the door on the other side. He opened it. Coming into the room is a caucasan male. Tall. Black hair. Handsome. He walks straight to where Annabelle is sitting, the glass the only thing keeping from physical contact. She reaches for the telephone. So does he. With a stale smile on his face he utters the words, “Hey sweet pea!”
Annabelle places her free hand on the glass. She feintly smiles. “Hi Daddy.”
He rested his free hand on the glass too. His hand visibly bigger than hers.
A single tear drops down her face. As best she tried to put on a mask for this meeting with her serial killer father, after last night, the mask easily shattered. She drops her head unable to look directly at him. “What’s troubling you?” she can hear him saying in an attempt to calm her down. She kept sobbing. Removing her hand from the glass, she covered her eyes, too late to hide the fact she is now overcome by a wave of emotions. She instinctively covered her face anyway. Finally able to compose herself, still unable to look at her father Annabelle managed to get the worlds she wanted to express. “I-- can’t do this anymore.”
In a calm, soothing voice, her father said. “Don’t let the world get to you, sweet pea. They are weak minded mice afraid of their own shadow. What do those people know about the real world? Behind the cute smiles we are all just the same. Flesh and bone. Stay strong.”
Finally, Annabele had the strength to look at her father. His face was blank. Expressionless. Without a clear, definiable emotion. His sheer coldness did make her nervous at times. Not today. “I somehow convinced myself everything was going to be alright. No one cares. It’s pro wrestling. So what I am your daughter, the community will accept me. I can do whatever I want. All part of the show, until it isn’t. I hurt Jane last night. I assaulted a fan for throwing a drink at me--”
“That’s my girl.” her father cut in flashing a wicked smile.
Ignoring him she pushed on. “All I wanted to do was see if Jane was ok. I hope she is. I didn’t mean to kick her that hard. What’s wrong with me? Using our family name to make a living didn’t feel wrong. Last night, I finally understood what mom was trying to tell me.”
Her father snapped back. “Your mother is weak. Don’t listen to her.”
“No, you are, dad” she snapped back. “If you controlled your impulses you wouldn’t be here.”
He rolls his eyes. “You're better than this, Annabelle. Don’t start sounding like the them.”
Fired up, she screamed, “I could have killed her!”
“Good!” her father creepy smirks.
This isn’t the first time his lack of empathy towards her plight jerked her back into a more neutral state. Wouldn’t be the last. She came to see him for a reason. Time to push forward. “I know what I need to do, Daddy. You’ll be disappointed. I’m sorry, I truly am sorry. The only way I can make this up to Jane is to quit wrestling.”
His eyes widened. He banged on the glass. “NO YOU CAN’T!!”
Doing her best to show she was unfazed by his outburst, she pushed continued “This is the right thing to do. No more blood. No one else gets hurt. Pro wrestling is a dangerous sport, Daddy; there will always be temptations. I can’t expose myself to them. This is for the best. Sorry Daddy. I’m so sorry.”
Annabelle hangs up the phone. She rises to her feet, turns around, and walks towards the exit as fast as she can. She ignored her father banging the glass. He more than likely had a few choice words to scream in her direction. None she was interested in hearing. She made up her mind, this is the end. Needed to be. No more wrestling, no more face paint, no one else gets hurt. Onward to as normal of a life someone can live being the daughter of a famed serial killer.
--
<PROMO TIME>
The scene opens with Annabelle Burchard sitting alone on a bench inside a confined space. She is wearing a purple shirt, black slacks, black shoes. Her black hair flows down her back. Not looking into the camera, yet, she is looking down at the ground.
“I owe the world an apology.”
She crosses her heart. Opening her eyes, Annabelle gazes lightly into the camera.
“Emerge 33, myself and YUYO engaged in a hard fought competitive contest. There was a point in the match I almost took her head off with a Lariat. Sensing victory was in my grasp, I went straight for the pinfall. To my shock, YUYO kicked out. Looking back I should not have been surprised YUYO survived. When you are in the heat of the moment, you want victory so badly, my fault for arriving at the assumption I had the match won. Frustration overcame me. Without thinking I resorted to trying to punt YUYO’s head off, thank God I missed. Imagining what could have happened if I connected breaks my heart.”
Annabelle pauses, giving the viewing audience a chance to digest what she’s saying. “YUYO didn’t deserve the damage I could have caused IF I was successful in knocking her lights out. I can imagine everyone asking, why Annabelle, why does almost punting YUYO’s head off bother you so much. That move, the punt, I used as a weapon back in my more nefarious days. I gave men and women alike concussions. Possible CTE. I ended careers. Compromised the well being of my opponents. I only used the punt with my face paint on, trying to kick YUYO’s head off without my mask? Troubles me more than you’ll ever know.”
“Have I regressed after two performances?”
“Am I showing my true colors?”
“Was Sallie Graham spot on by calling me out in EmergeExtra?”
“Am I fooling myself to believe I am better than the last name I was born into?”
“Should I give into my vices?”
Annabelle shakes her head. “I can’t allow myself to slip like that again. Chuck? Is it Chuck with the, The? You are a good person, I won’t have the same lapse in judgement I did against YUYO, win or lose I will not kick your head off. I couldn’t live with myself knowing what could happen if my boot connects with your forehead. I promise not to hurt you. Hurting my opponents is not my path, not anymore. ”
“Sorry YUYO.”
“Sorry Emerge fans.”
“I promise I’ll do better.”
Annabelle closes her eyes, lowers her head. Crossing her heart once more time, the scene fades to back.