Supreme Championship Wrestling

OOC: Posted this for Amy in VWA this past weekend, just realized I forgot to share it here. The scene in the middle was an RP here, I sort of bookended it for them. Hope you enjoy!

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“Are you ready?” Velvet Reed, Amy's new sponsor, asks as she sits across from Amy in the living room of Amy's rehab condo.
“Explain to me again what exactly we're doing here?”
The brunette woman smiles as she nods, agreeing. “Okay. We're going to do a guided meditation, which you've done before.”  Amy nods, there had been a few during the three weeks she'd been here. “This one will be a little different, though. I'm not going to tell you who or what you're seeing. The idea is to let your subconscious speak to you. Tell you things maybe you've forgotten, or that you know, but don't want to acknowledge consciously. Many times these meditations help people find the root cause of their issues, and it makes it that much easier to face the demon and dismiss it, rather than trying to drown it.”
“I'm not sure this is really necessary. I'm well aware of what's caused my problems.”
“Maybe so. Or maybe you only think you know, but you've just scratched the surface."
Amy looks away for a moment. She likes this woman Velvet. Not only is she a sponsor working with Avenues, she's also in recovery herself, five years sober. Most importantly to Amy, is that she's also open to new age and holistic treatments, and has certifications in meditation techniques. It makes her a good fit to work with Avenues, and especially so to work with Amy. The way Velvet is describing this jiggles something in Amy's memory, and she looks up again.
“You know, this almost sounds like a.... self-meditation, I used to do years ago. It was almost trance-like, where the object was to speak with a sort of spirit guide, or deity, if you believe in that.”
“I've heard of that ritual.” Amy's eyes widen. “Or, one like it. I am well acquainted with a handful of pagans in the area.”
Amy grins. “Yet another reason I was paired with you, I imagine.”
“More than likely. So, if you'd like to think of this meditation as something like that ritual, if you think that will help you get your mind into the right space, feel free to do so.”
In that context, Amy feels a lot better about this process. “That's a good idea, thank you.”
Velvet smiles, and pulls out a notebook with a heavy black cover. She flips to a page somewhere in the middle, and lays the book in her lap. “Alright, get yourself into a comfortable position. If you want to lay back on the couch, you can.”
“No, I'm fine sitting up.”  Amy was afraid that if she laid down, she would fall asleep instead of experience what she was meant to.
“Okay then. Go ahead and lean back, start to relax all your muscles.”  Amy tilts her head backwards to rest on the back of the couch. “Start from your head and neck, and work your way down all the way to your toes, acknowledging all of your muscles, and releasing the tension.”  Amy's arms drop to her sides, hands resting on the cushion. “Good. Now take a deep breath.”  Amy inhales deeply, filling her lungs as much as she can, before exhaling slow. “And another one...... and one more. Good, now just breathe normally and we'll begin.”

Amy lets her breath become steady, as she feels fully relaxed and open to what she's about to experience.

“You're walking in deep woods, thick with tall grass, vines and Spanish moss dripping from the trees. The air is thick with the smell of vegetation, the sounds of wildlife... birds, insects. A breeze passes through, rustling the leaves. Can you feel yourself there?”  Amy nods her conformation, and Velvet continues. “Sunlight streaks through the tall branches, illuminating a path in front of you, that you didn't notice before. You realize that you're meant to walk down this path. As you go, leaves and twigs crunch under your feet. The sun streaks in front of you lead you down the path, deeper into the woods. You follow the path until you come to a clearing, an almost circular space in the middle of the woods, where no trees grow. Very little grass covers the ground... the space appears well used. You look around, and see a large stone that looks just the right size to sit on. So you do. Listen to the sounds of the woods. The leaves in the breeze, the birds in the branches. In this space you will meet and speak with faces from your life, who represent a certain event, or time period. Thoughts and emotions you once thought were buried may come to the surface. The faces you speak to may remind you of events you've worked hard to forget. Let them speak. Listen to their words. They all share an important message. I will now step back, and let you focus on the space, and await those who wish to speak to you from the deep corners of your mind.”

Amy takes a deep breath, and with the exhale, she finds herself no longer in the condo living room, but in the woods, in the circular clearing described. She's seated on the large stone, and doesn't like it. She tries to stand, but something prevents her from doing so. Oh well. Amy relaxes, and looks around the clearing. She was expecting literal faces to float out of the woods and speak, like a specter or spirit. Instead, Amy sees a full human figure start to walk out from behind a tree. The woman looks corporeal, not ghost-like as Amy expected. Then she recognizes the young woman.
color=steelblue]“Annie...”[/color]  Annie smiles as Amy says her name. The young woman Amy met through the shelter, and tried to keep safe from her abusive boyfriend.... but failed. Annie is dead, at the man's hands.
“Hi, Amy. You might be surprised to see me, but I'm here for a reason. Everyone here is here for a reason.”
“I know. To talk to me.”
“Not just talk. But to tell you the truth. You might not want to hear some of it, but you need to. You need to recognize the truth so you can heal.”
Amy blinks away tears, she had been so affected by this woman's death; it was the last thread to snap that made her reach for the liquid comfort. The poison.
“My truth for you is... you're not responsible for my death.”
“But-”
“No buts. You're not. You did everything right. You warned me. You tried to stop me. As soon as I saw him, the look on his face, I knew you were right. But it was too late. I couldn't get away. There are only two people responsible for my end. Myself, for ignoring you. And him, for killing me. With my last breath I wanted to apologize to you for not listening. I don't blame you, Amy. You shouldn't blame yourself.”
Amy nods, and as she accepts Annie's words, her chest feels lighter, as if someone removed a brick from it. She takes a deep breath, and the tears she was blinking through a minute ago are gone.
“Okay. Okay.”
Annie smiles, the beautiful wide smile of a young woman full of life and with a promising future. Amy knows Annie no longer has that, but she also let's go of the burden of feeling responsible for it.
“Thank you. I have to go now. The others are waiting.”
Annie walks across the clearing and disappears into the trees.

Amy takes a deep breath and looks towards the spot Annie had come out from. She senses movement, and then a figure appears through the shadows. Amy blinks and when her eyes open, she gasps.
“Jason?”  Jason Helms, the man who was Amy's second partner for around five years, before ending their relationship earlier this year. Amy is momentarily terrified. If she's seeing him here, does that mean he's-
“No, I'm not dead. Although I might as well be, am I right? The way you've ignored me.”  Amy just stares. “Come on, don't look at me like that. It took me a week or two to figure out what happened, when I tried to text or call you and got nothing. You've clearly blocked me on literally everything. I thought we left things on good terms, but I guess not.”
Amy finally pulls herself together enough to react. “I... I'm sorry. It was just easier that way.”
“I get it. Complete abstinence. Like you're supposed to do when you quit drinking, right? Because one sip can lead to two, and that leads to trouble. So you couldn't talk to me.”
“Why would I torture myself keeping something I can't have in arms reach?”
“Yes! Exactly! Now you get it. You're not upset about losing me as a person. Oh don't give me that look, I know you loved me. But it's more than that. You were newly sober when you and I hooked up. The entire time we were together, you remained that way, most of the time. I leave, under duress by the way, and just a few weeks later you're drowning in the bottle. Do you get it yet?”
Amy shakes her head. “Get what? Am I not supposed to be upset that you left me?”
“Nah, I told you. It's more than that. I wasn't just a secondary lover or partner. I was an addiction. You replaced the liquor with me. Once I was gone.. well, you had a space to fill, a buzz to get, didn't you?”
Amy just stares at Jason, her jaw slack. Could that be true? In therapy her counselor suggested something similar, that Amy had two addictions – alcohol and sex. It hits Amy like a brick – maybe the same one that was taken off her chest earlier – that Jason is right. The way she reacted when he left her wasn't the way someone reacts when their partner leaves them. It was the way an addict reacts when their drug is taken away. Withdrawals, depression, looking for something – or in Amy's case, someone – else to take the place.
“I... I'm sorry.”
Jason shakes his head. “No. I am. I never should have gotten you into the lifestyle. I had no idea I was feeding an addiction. You're right to ignore me. Its better for you to keep moving on.”
Jason walks away, the same way Annie went. Amy opens her mouth to say something to stop him... but stops. In that moment she decides to let him go. For good.

Amy leans over, burying her face into her hands. This is so much harder than she expected, and she wants out. Amy looks up, up into the sky, trying to figure out how to get out of this mindfuck.
“You can't escape mindfucks, Amy. You know that first hand from me.”
Amy's head snaps back down and towards the treeline at that voice.
“Dustin.”  Amy is starting to realize what's going on here, what exactly is crawling out of the corners of her mind in this little exercise, ritual, whatever Velvet called it. Everyone that did anything that contributed to her drinking. Amy's second dead ex-husband smirks at her.
“The one and only. I'd say in the flesh, but... that's not really the case here, is it?”
“I don't know what you're doing here. I've been past all of your bullshit for a long time.”
“If you were, I wouldn't be here, would I? So let's dig, shall we? I'll play shrink for a moment, why do you think I'm still here, hm?”
Amy had no idea, until all of a sudden she was certain. “Loki.”
Dustin smirks again, shaking his head. “Ah yes. The son who disowned me and sent me to a gun shop to make the last purchase I ever made, roughly an hour before putting it to good use in repainting that dreadful hotel room in a lovely bright red color.”  Amy just stares. She remembers clearly the day she got the phone call from her lawyer that Dustin had been found dead in a hotel room, by a self-inflicted gunshot under his chin. “Yes, Loki. Our son, regardless what your witless husband thinks.”
Amy glares. “Wyatt is a better father than you-”
“That I could have ever been, yeah yeah. You know what? You're probably right. But the fact remains Amy, that Loki is my son. He's my blood. And that... that's what terrifies you, isn't it? That's why you haven't evicted me from your mind, because the older Loki gets, the more afraid you are that he'll become me.”
“Not if we can help it.”
Dustin laughs, the low, slow, menacing one he usually saved for threatening his enemies. “We? You mean you and the husband you might not have for much longer? The one you're terrified of watching him leave, not only you, but Loki, too? He was already abandoned by one father, wasn't he? Whatever will be do if another one walks out? My oh my... I think he'd probably break and.... become who and what he was born to be, a devil like me.”
Amy finds the strength to force herself through whatever had been keeping her seated and leaps to her feet.
“Loki is never going to turn into you! Do you hear me? Never!”
“Maybe, maybe not. Time will tell, won't it? What will Wyatt do? What will Loki do? Tick, tock, Amy.

Tick.

Tock.”

Dustin laughs menacingly again and walks away. Amy sits back down, trying to understand what the truth she was meant to accept was out of that. Was she trying so hard to save her marriage only for Loki's sake? To keep him from being abandoned by a father a second time and becoming something terrible? Is that a healthy motivation, to be fixated on a dead man's influence rather than all of the immediate issues piled up at her feet?

Holy shit.

Amy shakes her head at herself. Of course she wanted to repair the broken trust between herself and Wyatt. And it wasn't a bad thing to want her son to still have the only man who ever treated him as a son in his life. But Amy had been basing it all on fear, something negative, when it should be based on love. Positive motivation will always be more effective.

Amy wipes her face dry as she hears more leaves rustling. There's more? She looks up to the tree line, and her heart leaps at the man stepping out and smiling at her. He's been in her dreams several times before but her reaction is always the same.
“Hey you.”
“Heath. What... what are you doing here?”
“You tell me, hon. We're all here because of you. Something you haven't let go of. I know its not me, in a general sense. We've been over that. I was never the right Lancaster for you.”  He grins.
“We have, and I know that. That's why I don't know why you're here. You were gone before I picked up the bad habit that led me here.”
“Oh, you mean the drinking? Yeah, I don't remember you being much of one when I was down here. I've seen some things from up there, though. The night Kayla was born. Some random January when a bottle got shattered against my headstone. Among others. I never understood it, Amy. How you could do it.”
“I don't know. Maybe you're here because.... I think I wouldn't have got so bad if you were here? Some freak accident took you from us, and-”
“It wasn't a freak accident, hon. It was a drunk driver. I saw the headlights on the wrong side of the road, a split second before everything went black. There was nothing I could have done, because that man decided to get behind a wheel. Drunk.”  Amy feels like Heath's stare is burning straight through her, and it's clear why he's still here, why she's being faced with him. The silent, calm tears return, slowly falling.
“I get it. Why you're here. Every time I take a drink, I'm disrespecting you. The more I have, the worse it is. And when I'm out of it... oh, fuck. Sometimes it's like you're there. Just standing over me, judging. Angry. Disa...”  Her breath catches with a sob she couldn't control. “Disappointed. And I hate it. I hate myself for it. How could I do that to you?”  Another sob escapes, and Amy doesn't try to silence it this time. Heath steps forward, closer than any of the others had come, and Amy notices that they are not corporeal like she thought; there's a shimmer.
“You're not doing it to me, though. I'm already dead. You're doing it to yourself. And that, honestly, is far more disappointing than anything insulting me. Listen carefully to what I say next, and trust it's coming from a place of knowledge.”  Amy nods, taking his meaning – he's giving her a warning. “If you don't get control of yourself? You're going to end up like me, only from the other end.”
“What?”  The word comes out a whisper.
“I said what I said. But, you're strong. I have faith in you. Always.”  Heath gives another warm grin, and walks off across the clearing, not looking back. Amy watches him until he disappears into the tree line.

That was a warning. One that Amy knows from previous experiences that spirits are not supposed to give. Amy wonders if any of this was real, if she was talking to the actual spirits of the departed, or just figments of her mind. Well, Jason isn't dead, so it had to be her mind. Right? If that's true, then Heath's words weren't a warning, but a reflection of her own deep fear. I didn't survive and overcome everything I've been through just to die like that, Amy thinks.

Amy takes a deep breath, trying to clear her mind, or her inner mind, since she was inside her mind to begin with... what a mindfuck, right? And to settle her emotions. Thinking Heath was the last  'visit' of this exercise, Amy starts to regulate her breathing to take herself out of this trance-like state. But...

“Where the fuck do you think you're going? Get back here!”
Amy feels herself plink back down to the stone she was sitting on. The voice yelling at her is one she hasn't heard in over twenty years, but could never forget. She slowly looks up towards the sound, and the piercing blue eyes of her first dead ex-husband glares at her from across the clearing. Blane. Amy can't make herself call him by name.
“No. No! I'm past you, you shouldn't be here!”
Blane spreads his arms wide, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Apparently not! Here I am, front and center. Definitely center. But you know that. I'm at the center of alllll of this, right? It's all my fault! That's what you tell everyone, isn't it?”
“Because it's true! You started all of this because you couldn't keep your fucking hands to yourself!”
Blane lays one hand over his heart. “Okay, you got me there. Look, I'm dead, I have no problem admitting the truth in this state. Yeah, I fucked you up. I'd apologize, but it wouldn't change anything so I won't bother.”
“Damn right it wouldn't. It never changed anything when you were still breathing.”
“Exactly! So, instead I'm gonna say this. All of this shit you're dealing with? Fighting against? You can beat it.”  Amy blinks in surprise. A compliment, from this motherfucker? “Wait, bad choice of words. What I meant was, you can overcome it.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“Because you overcame me. Well, to an extent. You escaped. You fought back and you escaped, all on your own.”
“That's not true. I had help.”  Wait. Why is she debating him?
“I know you did. Kay. Those fucking Lancaster boys. The younger one especially. What was his name....”  Blane makes a show of trying to remember, then snaps his fingers. “Oh right. Wyatt. That guy. I know all about that. I knew it at the time. He helped you in more ways than one, am I right?”  Blane winks.
“You're disgusting.”
“But I'm right. The man taught you how to fight back, and you did. You got away from me. I know, I was a shit for a few years, especially after my daughter turned out to not actually be my daughter. But then some asshole ran me off a road and here I am. No longer your problem. Except... here I am. Still in your head. You can't kick me out of here because blaming me and hating me is your entire identity. Who are you if you're not the woman Blane Keller smacked around?”
“I'm always going to be that woman, the past doesn't change.”
“No, but it doesn't have to be an anchor, either. You can cut it loose.”
Amy sits back down, deflated. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“Easy. The same guy who helped you escape me before is still around, trying to help you now. Let him.”
“I thought I was.”
“Nah, not really. This is one of those things where standing beside you isn't enough. You gotta let him in. All the way. Drop the front, fuck your pride. Let him see everything, even the ugliest parts. That's how you escape this time. Escape your addictions... escape me. For good.”
Instead of walking away like everyone else, Blane simply fades away, like a wisp of smoke dissipating.

Can I really do that? Amy thinks. Be rid of that weight?






Amy notices her breathing begin to deepen and slow, and she hears a distant voice. The trees and clearing around her start to fade, not away, but to darkness. She closes her eyes, and the distant voice becomes louder.

“Amy... keep your breath steady as you come back to consciousness. Focus on the sound of my voice.”
It's Velvet. As soon as Amy names the voice in her head, she's back. On the couch, in the condo.
“Amy, are you back?”
Amy opens her eyes slowly, to keep the light from blinding her. “Yeah... yeah I'm here.”
“Good, good. I was starting to worry about you for a moment. You seemed very distressed.”
“I was...”  Amy rubs her eyes, trying to clear her vision. There, that's better. “But I'm okay now.”
“Are you sure?”  Amy nods. “How do you feel?”
Amy think a moment, then laughs. “Don't take this the wrong way, but... like I need a drink.”
Velvet laughs.  “I completely understand. You should have some chamomile tea to ground yourself. Do you have some here?”
“Yeah, I always have that on hand.”
“Great. I'll make us a cup while you process. I suggest you write in your journal before you start to forget details.”
“Aren't you going to ask me what happened?”
“No. It's between you and your shadow.”
What a pagan thing to say. Amy raises an eyebrow. “My shadow? Who are you?”
Velvet smiles. “I'm someone who knows your beliefs and was put into your path to help you, in a way only another witch could.”  Velvet stands up and points to the kitchen. “Now tell me, where do you keep the tea?”

Amy smiles, and points to the first cabinet on the left. She wondered how this woman came to be her sponsor, but decides it's better not to ask. Some things aren't meant to be questioned, just accepted.










Amy looks around the now-familiar counseling room, for what might be the last time. Today is her last day at Avenues, and she's waiting for her exit session. She has to continue outpatient sessions starting next week, but she isn't sure if those will be in this room, or another office. She'll find out today. Glancing sideways, Amy thinks Wyatt looks uncomfortable seated next to her. On coming here, Amy was told that at least one of her sessions would include Wyatt. During her treatment the last two weeks, Amy's counselors decided to hold that off until today, the last session before she signs out. Amy knew why that was the decision, and she didn't think Wyatt was going to like it. When he arrived for this, Amy met him in the lobby, to lead him to the counselor's room. He'd greeted her with a hug, but to Amy it felt... off. She wondered if he still had those papers.

Amy and Wyatt sat in silence for about five minutes before the counselor , Dr. Patrick Donnelly, came into the room. The men introduce themselves to each other, and Patrick (as he prefers to be called) settles into his chair, his notes in hand. He's the first therapist/counselor Amy had ever seen using an electronic tablet to take notes instead of a paper notebook.
“Alright, with the formalities out of the way, I'll just jump right in. First of all, Wyatt, you should be aware that in my talks with Amy over her stay here, she's discussed your history, in depth, including the recent events that led her here.”
“I assumed that would be the case. I'm prepared for anything that comes up.”
“Great. I don't want any awkwardness or surprises. If you're not sure if Amy would have mentioned a certain incident or issue, just assume she has. If not, we'll deal with that if necessary.”
“Understood.”
Patrick smiles. “Perfect. Firstly, Amy. Given that this is your last session here as part of your inpatient stay, what I'd like to do is go over your progress, and what the expectations are for your continued treatment.”
“Alright.”
“I'll be honest, I don't think you've come as far as I would have liked to see so far. But, I also wasn't anticipating some of the issues that we uncovered. Taking that into consideration, you've actually done well.”
“I feel like there's a lot that hasn't been unpacked yet.”
“I agree. And we will get to that during your continued outpatient treatment. In the case of your sobriety, I'm optimistic you'll handle that well. The combination of your medication, your new sponsor, and your personal dedication to keeping sober I think will work for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Wait, new sponsor?”  Wyatt seems wary. Amy isn't surprised, given that her previous sponsor had failed so dramatically.
“Yes. Amy has met with one of our volunteers, Velvet Reed. She went through our program several years ago and recently celebrated her five year sobriety anniversary.”
“Oh.”  Wyatt's wariness waning didn't go unnoticed by Amy, and given the look on Patrick's face, she assumes he saw it, too. She had been partnered with a female sponsor deliberately.
“Yeah, she's really sweet. Around my age, married, grown daughter.”
“Sounds good.”
“I'm sure you'll get to meet her soon.”
“Sure, I'd like to.”
“Great. She can be a resource for you as well, if you have any questions or concerns.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
“Alright. So, after today Amy, we'll be seeing you two or three times a week, here, schedule permitting... we know you're usually fairly busy and booked up.”
“I am, but I can rearrange some things to make sure this stays a priority.”
“Good. As for you, Wyatt, I really feel your help will be needed, and we'd like to accomplish that by having you in with Amy once a week.”
“Yeah, I have no problem with that. I pretty much make my own schedule, so just give me dates and times and I'll make it work.”
Patrick smiles, glancing at Amy. Here it comes, she thinks. “Good to hear, you'll have to be an integral part of Amy's continued recovery. During her individual sessions here, it became apparent that you've played a role in what led to Amy being here today.”
Wyatt frowns a bit. “You think?” He doesn't sound upset, just thoughtful, which surprises Amy.
“I do. Part of Amy's diagnoses along with alcoholism, is hypersexuality.” Amy inwardly cringes at the word. It sounds better than the term pop culture likes – sex addict – but she still doesn't like it, no matter how accurate it may be. Wyatt gives no reaction to the word, and Patrick continues. “Now, she doesn't have the compulsion that people usually think of when they hear that term, it's actually fairly controlled in that regard. But other signs. Spending a lot of time planning activities, reckless behavior, feeling the need to continue despite threats to emotions and/or relationships. So-”
“Hold on, hold on.” Wyatt interrupts, sitting up straighter, waving one hand in the air. “If you're talking about the open marriage agreement we had for several years, you should know that I was the one who first brought it up as an option.”
Yeah, after she'd been told about how it works from Jason and mentioned it, Amy thinks. But she says nothing.
“Yes, exactly, and that's where your role comes into play as an enabler. Not necessarily in the alcoholism, although I could make a case for that as well. But definitely in this aspect.”
Amy holds her breath, waiting for the blow up. There isn't one. Wyatt looks down at the floor a moment, then back up, running a hand over his face. “I have to admit I've wondered if I could be to blame for any of this.”  Amy stares, stunned. Wyatt seems to be pointedly not looking at her.
“In my professional opinion, I believe so. We'll get deeper into that, and why, in later sessions.”  Both Wyatt and Amy nod. “For now, given that the nature of your previous open relationship has indirectly – or maybe directly – contributed to Amy's drinking, I strongly suggest that you refrain from any intimacy until some of these things get sorted out.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“It does. Okay.”  Amy feels like Wyatt agreed to that a little too quickly, and she wonders again if those papers still exist. But, she had to admit that she hadn't exactly been looking forward to anything of the sort lately herself, so maybe she was being oversensitive.
“That went over easier than I thought, I admit. I'm glad you both agree. I'd even go as far as to say not until not only do you both feel its the right time, but that I, as a professional, believe it would be healthy for you.”
Amy glances at Wyatt and finds him also looking at her. She turns away.
“I think that's fair.”
“Yeah, I'm okay with that.”
Patrick smiles again, as if they'd all just agreed to meet for dinner rather than bluntly discussing martial sex. “Okay. I'll note everything we've discussed today down, and we'll work out a schedule next week, Amy, after you're home from your Toronto obligation.”
“That works. I'll let you know when I'm back.”
“I'll give you both my card with my cell number, you can text me. I believe that's all here, unless either of you have any questions?”
Amy shakes her head no, and looks at her husband.
“Nothing I can think of at the moment.”
“Alright. Well, as I said you'll have my number.”  Patrick stands, and both Amy and Wyatt take the cue and get to their feet as well. “You ready to go home?”
“Absolutely.”
Patrick pulls a single sheet of paper out of a folder Amy just noticed was on the side table. He signs it, and hands it to Amy with a smile. His card is attached with a paper clip. “Here's your discharge.”

Amy smiles back as she takes it.

This piece of paper signifies the end of her stay at Avenues, but Amy knows it's just the beginning of fixing the mess she'd created.








When Amy walks through the door of her home, she recalls the dream she had the first day at Avenues and for a half-second, is afraid she'd see what she saw in the dream – everything family related gone. The living room looks perfectly normal though, and Amy chides herself for being silly. Obviously her family hadn't left her, Wyatt brought her home for gods' sake. Loki however, was not home. Wyatt explained on the drive home that he'd asked Loki to spend the day with a friend, or maybe his sister, so that he and Amy could have some time alone when Amy got home. This was a different situation than years ago when Loki was younger and Amy came back from her first rehab stay, and the kids were home and everyone welcomed her back. They needed time to talk alone this time. Loki had agreed, and arranged to spend the day with Jaina. Amy was grateful for that, she had been low-key dreading getting home and having everyone all over her, when she just wanted to decompress.
Amy sets her bag near the bottom of the stairs, to be taken up later, and sits on the couch. Kicking her shoes off, she pulls her legs up comfortably under her. Wyatt takes the armchair, and Amy thinks he's much less comfortable than she is. That concerns her, but she's glad to be on her own couch instead of the hard one in her rehab condo, so she can't bring herself to sit up straight.
“Did you know he was going to say that stuff about me being at fault?”
Shit. She didn't want to do this right now. She had hoped for more than five minutes of relaxing before this conversation started. But she didn't have much leverage, if any at all.
“Yes.”
“Do you agree with him?”
“I don't know.”
“Amy...”
“I don't. I mean... I can see why he would think it. But... I don't know. You seemed to agree.”
“Maybe. Maybe I let some things go too far.”
“Maybe I talked you into it.”
“Maybe.”  Silent moments pass. “Do you agree with his... treatment plan? Having me involved, the... everything?”
“Yeah. I do. Can't say I like it... but I'll do whatever is necessary.”
Wyatt nods. “Okay. As long as you're in agreement, then I'll go along with it, keep up the sessions.”
“Thank you.”
Wyatt clears his throat quietly, as he tends to do when changing the subject. “So, you still planning on opening the academy on the twenty-first?”
“I am. I thought about pushing it back, I even mentioned that to Patrick. He suggested that sticking to the plan would help more than postponing it. Keeping as much normal as possible, keeping a routine. Especially given the other changes.”  Such as her not drinking, and the relationship no longer being open, and the abstaining.
“Right. Okay, I just didn't want you to be pushing yourself.”
“I need to.”
“Okay.”  Wyatt pauses a breath or two. “What about your staff?'
Amy eyes him sharply. “What do you mean?”
Wyatt gives her a pointed look. Amy shakes her head. She knows what he's getting at, but she wants him to say it. This beating around the bush thing he's doing isn't normal for him and it's unnerving her.
“Alright, I'll be blunt. Is Simon still working at the academy?”
“Oh... Yes.”
“You're going to allow that, and work with him, despite everything he's done?”
“I can't fire him. It's not fair to take something away from my students because of my personal problems.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “I don't know how you can do that.”
“I don't know either. But I'm not going to punish them for what would look like no reason. And there is no way I would explain.”
Wyatt sighs, but nods reluctantly. “That I get at least. This mess doesn't need to go public.”
“I'm glad there's something we agree on.”
“I'm only going to say this once, and you can do what you will with it. If it was my call, he would be gone. Already. But, the academy is yours and it's not my place to tell you what to do with it.”
“I know that's what you want. Honestly, so do I. But I can't only think about myself, I have to do what's best for everyone. Those students signed up expecting to be training with certain people. I can't take that away from them. It's just.... part of my penance, I guess.”
“Fine. Do what you must. Don't expect me to speak to him.”
“I don't. In fact, I prefer that you don't. We don't need another fistfight and you can't afford getting caught in that. You're lucky he didn't push the issue last time.”  An assault charge on someone with a felony record would be serious.
“I'm aware. It was still worth it.”
Amy looks away and sighs. “I'm sorry if my decision upsets you. But it's what's best for the academy.”
“Noted.”
That tone was rare, but familiar. Wyatt is pissed, and trying very hard to contain it. This conversation needs to be over. Amy sits up. “I should probably go unpack. Do laundry.” She gets up, and Wyatt stands too.
“I'll follow you. Speaking of those changes... I'll go move things to the guest room.”
Amy stops mid-step. “Do you think that's necessary?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Don't you?”
Amy sighs. She hadn't thought about it at all. “I guess now that you mention it, it would make sense, given our instructions. But... what about Loki? He's gonna notice. He'll think we're separated or something.”
Wyatt looks at her with a squint, head tilted slightly. “What exactly do you think this is, Amy? We are.”
Oh. Amy back-steps once, folding her arms. She nods once, keeping her head down and eyes towards the floor. Of course. How silly of her. She can't make herself respond. She is now convinced the papers still exist.
“Don't worry about Loki, I'll talk to him.”
Amy just nods, keeping her head down. After a few seconds she hears Wyatt go up the stairs.

Instead of following, Amy goes to her office, telling herself she'd just unpack later. She wasn't going to subject herself to watching her husband move out of their bedroom.











Crisis of Faith is over. For the first time in seven years, Amy can no longer refer to herself as the VWA World Champion. A title she once thought she would hold forever. But the company resurrected once more, and Amy agreed to return and defend the championship. Why? Did she think she owed it to VWA? Or to Jude Lawson? Or was it just pride, that she couldn't let them create a new World Championship, because then hers wouldn't be the same?

Pride comes before the fall, as they say. And how Amy has fallen.

After coming out of retirement in March, going back to SCW, and then to VWA, Amy has won a grand total of one match out of... she can't even remember how many. Too many. And now, a few days removed from losing the biggest match of her career, to one of her biggest rivals, a woman she may respect for her talent but will never like as a person... Amy lays in bed feeling like she's lost everything that means anything to her.

She's making a fool of herself in SCW.

She lost the VWA World Championship.

She lost one of her best friends, due to his betrayal of her trust.

And now, she's on the brink of losing her husband, too. She's already lost his trust. If she can't get it back... she'd lose him. And then have nothing.

Nothing.

In this hopeless and helpless state, Amy can only think of one thing that might make her feel better, that could stop the painful emotions, make the hurt in her chest numb. The problem is.... its also the one thing that got her into this mess in the first place.

Home alone, unable to go to the gym and work on getting the academy ready to reopen, due to her minor knee injury at Faith Lockheart's hands... it would be easy for Amy to fall back into the familiar. Get in her car and drive to the store. Easy... but it would also easily ruin the new shaky foundation she's started to rebuild. Instead, Amy knows what she needs to do.

Grabbing her phone, Amy hesitates a moment before tapping the screen. Two rings later, she gets an answer.
“Velvet Reed speaking.”
Oh. She must not have saved Amy's number yet. “Hi Velvet. It's Amy. We-”
“Yes, Amy! Of course. I was just wondering about you. How are you? Did you have your wrestling show?”
“I did.... it didn't go well.”
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”
“My knee needs a little TLC, but other than that, I'm....”  Amy stops herself and sighs. Sometimes being brave is knowing when to stop fighting so hard to keep the mask on. “Actually, no. I'm not okay at all. That's why I called.”
“Oh... I see. Thank you for calling me. How can I help you right now?”
“Well, I'm home by myself, and... I don't think I should be. Can I meet you somewhere, or...”
“We can do that. Or I can come to your house. Whatever you're comfortable with.”
“I would love it if you'd just come over. Driving is hard with my bruised knee.”
“Done. Text me your address, and I'll be there as soon as I can.”
“I hope I'm not interrupting you from something.”
“Even if you were, it doesn't matter. This is what I'm here for. I'll see you soon.”
“Thanks.”

Amy ends the call, and texts her address to Velvet. That was easy. Maybe Velvet can help her find the strength to ask Wyatt for help, too.













Hello once again, Dear Readers, and welcome to this VWA edition of my blog. I don't usually write about VWA here, but I find myself in a position right now where I feel more comfortable with the written word than getting in front of a camera and speaking. Truth be told, I don't trust myself to speak clearly, to get my thoughts out in the way I mean them to come across. There's a lot I've been unsure of for a long time, and at least this way, I can read over myself and make sure I'm sounding the way I want.

Firstly, I want to say congratulations to Black Rose for her victory over me at Primrose Path. If you've followed me for any length of time, you know I am not one to make excuses. She was simply the better woman that night.

It seems though that lately, in both places I work, the better fighter on any given night is not me. I admit I'm starting to wonder if coming out of retirement was a mistake. All I've done since getting back into the ring is lose. Matches, championships, friendships, relationships... and maybe myself in the process. I know that most of you here in VWA know about my personal issues. To speak plainly, my alcoholism. What many of you may not know, is that I recently went through another stay in rehab. I was released days before Crisis of Faith. I'm not telling you this to try to draw pity, or make any excuses for Faith beating me... as I said,, I don't do that. I've just always been an open book and I'm telling you where I am right now.

Yes, I am clean.

Yes, I am physically healthy.

Am I mentally healthy? That depends on who you ask. My therapist would say I'm getting there. My husband would say almost. My kids... well, I won't go there. What do I think?

No. Better than I was, but not ideal, not by a long shot.

The time around my rehab stay and immediately following Crisis of Faith was one of the lowest points of my life, second only to my first husband putting me in the hospital. I felt on the brink of losing everything that means anything to me, and I'll admit it... I almost broke. I almost reached for the poison that was to blame for the position I was in.

But, I didn't. I don't know how, but I found it in me to reach for the phone instead, and make a call. That call... probably saved everything. From there, it's been a slow, slow, tedious, almost torturous climb up out of the pit I'd dug for myself. I'm not out of it yet, but I'm closer to seeing the surface than I have been in months. I can feel the tide turning, the wheel spinning, whatever cliché you want to use.

I'm making my way back up to where I want to be, personally... and professionally. With my head clear it's easier to focus on upcoming matches, and that's been proven in SCW, as I've started to do better. Picking up wins. Getting some momentum. Feeling better about coming back for one last run. One more run is all I have left in me, and I don't know how long this run will be. I just know I have a lot of ground to cover, to make up for the mess I've made of everything this year.

It seems that at least in VWA, I'm not the only one who's  been struggling, and that brings me to Unholy Night and Erick Kennylz. Erick hasn't had a great time since VWA returned, either, has he? Granted, he started off better than I did, but since then we've had the same luck.. or rather lack of. Is it really luck though? Is it a mental block? Is it just that we've been placed against superior fighters?

Those questions don't matter, they can never be answered. One question that will be answered though is one that's, somehow, never been posed before. Amy Chastaine versus Erick Kennylz – who wins? Amazingly, despite the fact he and I have both been doing this for decades, December 24th is the very first time we will stand across the ring from each other and be put to the test.

There was a time, earlier in my career, when the idea of getting into the ring with Erick Kennylz would have terrified me. We didn't work together but I'd heard of him. Everyone had. Almost unbeatable for the longest time. Tough, brutal, violent. Everything I was not, not back then. These days, there are very few people I would be scared of in the ring, and I can be all three of those things when need be, and here in VWA? It's almost always required. But, I'm hoping... that on Christmas Eve, it won't be. Erick and I have no animosity towards each other, not that I know of anyway. Unless you count the rude interruption of my interview at Primrose Path.... but hey, maybe he was having a bad day. It happens to the best of us.

I'm not going to make a bunch of threats, or promises, or talk myself up trying to put some intimidate into Erick's head. From what I can tell, he's much like me in that he's very hard to intimidate. I'm not looking to take this 'first ever' match and turn it into a blood feud just because Erick brushed by me as I was talking and I need to make an example. That's not me.

What I am going to do, is promise that when I get to the ring, I'm giving everything I have, which is much, much more than I've been working with for most of the year. I'm clear headed, I'm on my way up, and this match? I need it to go my way. I know there's a damn good chance it won't, Erick is one of the best there has ever been in this business. But, at the risk of putting a little ego out there... there are a lot of people who would say the same thing about me. On my better days, I actually believe them.

So, I'm looking forward to Unholy Night. I'm ready to be tested by one of the best, to bring out my best, and find out who's best... is the best. The way I've been feeling lately... I like my chances.