MELISSA KILLGRAVES VERSUS ANNABELLE BURCHARD - TAIPEI DEATHMATCH

[thisisemerge]

DEADLINE ONE - 3250 ROLEPLAY 31ST JULY 2020 2359 EST
DEADLINE TWO - SHOOT / SEGMENT 2ND AUGUST 2020 2359 EST

[The Atoner]

Authors Note: Special guest via permission. Been fun Rupp. Lets close this chapter in style. 

What a main event...


Annabelle Burchard had been slowly making waves in Emerge. What was becoming overlooked due to her ongoing issues with Melissa Killgraves was her not often talked about unpinned streak. The last time she was pinned was in her second match against Yuyo. Since then she has either won matches by pinfall or disqualification. Lost one match via disqualification thanks to The Unforgiven getting involved in her affairs. Invasion: Europe, a strap match wound up being thrown out due to constant interference from Seraglio, Benjamin Flynn and a masked assailant EMERGE staff has yet to learn the identity of. 


Annabelle standing toe to toe against the Emerge RUSH champion wasn’t destined to be an easy feat. Wasley had survived two brutal defenses of the RUSH Championship in South Africa and Europe respectively. Beating the current EMERGE Champion, Jennifer Helms, was a huge feather in his cap. She didn’t need Benjamin to tell how big the stakes were in what she hopes to be many more main event matches. To the shock of many, partially to her, she managed to pull off what many in the audience viewed as an upset. 


How does one celebrate a monumental victory?


The first thing Annabelle did was hop in the shower.


She allowed the steaming hot water to assault her face. 


The white face paint with black eye shadow began further peeling.


She worked up quite a sweet during the match with Wasley. The facepaint was chipping away. The hot steaming shower would finish the job. She wanted to feel her own pure face again without the war paint, leaving her alter ego aside for another day. Once out the shower, she walked back into the locker room with her clothes already prepared by Ben. Same attire she entered the arena in. Blue denim jeans, a short sleeve AC/DC “Back in Black” UK tour t-shirt and black jeans. 


Didn’t take her long to get herself ready. 


There was no one to talk to. 


No post match interview. 


No friends to check in on. 


Annabelle’s path to exit the Motorpoint arena was distraction free. 


Walking down the hallway, an instinctual pull came over her. 


She stopped in front of the general men’s locker room. 


Annabelle thought about it for a moment. Should she walk in there? Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the door. 


No one answered. 


She knocks again.


No one answered. 


Sighing, she pushes open the locker room door. The room appeared empty except for one indistinguishable item...


The Emerge ANARCHY Championship propped up on a steel chair. 


Annabelle smiles. She allowed the allure of Emerge’s brand new championship to seduce her into walking over to get a closer look. 


Standing directly in front of the belt she extends her hand to touch it. 


At the last minute she pulls away. 


“Go ahead, touch it!” a jovial voice calls out to Annabelle. 


Her attention then goes to the owner of the jovial voice, belonging to no other than The Chucke. He is dressed modestly. 


“I shouldn’t have come in here.” Annabelle said. “I’ll leave”


“Don’t worry about it.” The Chucke chuckles. “You don’t need to be modest, Annabelle. The Chucke is no stranger to the ladies lining up outside the locker room after every show wanting to know what The Chucke is baking.”  


He slyly winks. 


Annabelle tilts her head to the side, confused where The Chucke was leading with this.


“Baking?” Annabelle asked. She sniffs the air. “What am I supposed to be smelling? Cookies? Bagels? ”


The Chucke closes the gap between himself and Annabelle. Standing next to each other they are the same height. He just happened to be more portly than she is. Nevertheless he unleashed a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Annabelle; The Chucke understands.”


Annabelle steals a glance at the Emerge Anarchy Championship. The day Dani announced the inception of the championship, she has done nothing but fantasize about wrapping the belt around her slim waist. She was paying close attention at Invasion: Europe to see who would walk out the very first champion. To her amazement The Chucke became champion. She silently asked herself in the moment how could this over the top guy be the champion of a chaotic division with no boundaries? 


Turning back to The Chucke, she smiles. “Chuck... or do I need to add the... The.”


“The Chucke says you can call him whatever you want.” he says unable to resist winking 


“Ok... Mr. Chuck.” Annabelle half smirks. “Don’t know how to explain it. I felt God telling me to come in here. Are you a believer?”


The Chucke places his hand over his heart. “Damn right I believe in God, without the man upstairs creating the bountiful of beautiful women to admire The Chucke, The Chucke says he would be so damn lonely. The Chuck says the only balls he plays with are his own.” 




Annabelle’s eyes widen. A small part of her felt like vomiting. And then... she started laughing. She laughed at The Chucke? Had to still be on a high after the victory over Thomas Wasley. Had to be the only plausible explanation for Annabelle laughing at The Chucke behaving like women actually dropped their panties at the sight of him. 


“I’ll take your work for it.” Annabelle continued to laugh, not in a mocking way, she somehow finds The Chucke funny? Who would have known. 


“Can The Chucke ask you a question?” 


Annabelle nods. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”



The Chucke clears his throat. “The face paint... The Chucke wants to know if you ever paint yourself up when you are doing the wild thing if ya know what I mean.”



Annabelle looks off to the side. There was no grey area to The Chucke’s pretty direct question. Running her hands through her hair, Annabelle looks directly into The Chucke’s eyes. She responds, “No. Does nothing for me.” 


“The Chucke says he loves the aesthetic you got going.” Giving Annabelle two thumbs way up Siskel and Ebert style, The Chucke continues, “You should think about it.”


Annabelle rubs her forehead. “Noted.” 


“Before The Chucke forgets, congratulations on the huge win out there. The Chucke wishes he was a great wrestler like you and Thomas Wasley. The Chucke doesn’t see himself main eventing an Emerge or a pay per view for that matter. The day The Chucke main events anything is the day Emerge goes out of business.” he says with a hearty laughter. 


Annabelle tilts her head to the side. “Hey, don’t talk like that, you pushed me to my limit in our match back in Exeter. I’ll never forget it. God placed you in my path for a reason, Mr. Chuck. Can’t promise the next time we met will be as... sportsmen like. Next time you’ll see my true face.”


The Chucke pinches Annabelle’s cheek. “The Chucke like this one.”


Annabelle raises her eyebrow. She smiles. Taking a deep breath, Annabelle says. “I should get going. Benjamin is probably wondering where the hell I am.” 


“Anytime you want to see what The Chucke is baking, He isn’t a hard guy to find.” 


Annabelle nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”


She walks towards the door, taking one last glance at the Anarchy Championship, she waves goodbye to The Chucke and leaves the room. 



It took roughly five minutes to exit the building. Annabelle makes a beeline to the rental car.  She sees Benjamin Flynn leaning up against the drivers side door. 


With his hands tucked into his pocket, he sighs at her. “What took you so long?”


“I had a... unique conversation with The Chucke.” Annabelle confessed. 


“Come again?” Benjamin asked, wanting confirmation of what he just heard. 


“I said--” Annabelle began to say. Her train of thought is broken at the sight of  Benjamin smiling. A rare sight.  


Her confidant pats Annabelle on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you. You are already thinking three steps ahead. Lull that fat bastard into a false sense of security, just like that..” Ben snaps his fingers “--you will take his Anarchy Championship when he least expects.” Benjamin continues to beam with pride. “His known weakness is the power of an attractive woman. Grant it, most men’s weakness is an attractive woman, that is besides the point. No way he will go the extra mile to seriously hurt a potential conquest. Come on, like you would drop your pants for that loser.” 


Benjamin can’t help but laugh. 


Annabelle glares at him.


This doesn’t stop Benjamin from getting carried away. “Tomorrow we should go shopping, pick out some clothes that will get The Chucke’s attention.”


“Ben--” Annabelle tries to interject. 


His excitement is too strong. “I knew you had it in you, Anna. He won’t see his destruction coming. So--”


“BEN!!!” Annabelle screams. 


Benjamin finally shuts up. 


Annabelle shakes her head. “I am not manipulating The Chucke, ok?”


Benjamin blinks twice. “I don’t get it.”


Annabelle sighs in frustration. “He’s not a mark, ok? I don’t know why I walked into the men’s locker room. Seeing the Anarchy Championship did give me chills. I did imagine how good it’ll be to wrap that belt around my waist. Mr. Chuck is... quite funny in an odd way. I appreciate that.”


Benjamin raises an eyebrow. “Please tell me you don’t legit like that guy!!”


“The only thing I know Ben is Mr. Chuck is one of the good ones.” Annabelle says confidently. 


She opens the passenger's side door. She gets in the car.


Ben opens the drivers side door and steps inside. 


Reaching into his pocket to pull out the car keys, he sticks the key into the ignition. 


Him and Annabelle lock eyes. “Now is not the time to fraternize with anyone. Especially someone who has something you want. All business. Do you understand?”


She turns to look straight out the windshield. 


Ben continues to stare. “Are we clear, Annabelle?”


Annabelle folds her arms into her chest. “Can we go back to the hotel?”


Ben sighs. “Fine. We’re not done talking about this.” 


He turns on the engine. 


She shrugs her shoulders. “Has it occurred to you Ben that I am tired of keeping myself isolated from the rest of the roster?” Annabelle shifts her attention to look at Ben who has his attention fixated on the Rav 4 not too far away. 


Annabelle continues. “Talking to Mr. Chuck was... fun. He was a little extra... I could sense that he was coming from a good place. I doubt he has a line of women lining up every night outside the locker room to smell the donuts that he’s cooking, you have been in Emerge from the beginning. How many people in the company are afraid to step into the light? The men and women who choose to do the right thing, how many of them are self righteously overbearing? I miss some form of camaraderie. Ben, I appreciate that you took time out of your busy schedule to have my back, more than you’ll ever know I am eternally grateful, you are only one person. I need someone to remind me that I am not a complete monster. Something tells me Mr. Chuck can be that person. Don’t overreact. I won’t marry the man. He isn’t that bad, just eccentric. Who am I to judge, I wear face paint.”


“And--” Ben dramatically pauses. “-- the daughter of a serial killer.”


“Thanks for the reminder.” Annabelle sharply says. 


Ben turns to look at Annabelle. “I’m just reminding you of your reality. Never lose sight of that. I want the best for you, I swear. Can’t spend unneeded time trying to make friends in Emerge. Once The Unforgiven threat is neutralized, they will turn on you. The self righteous always need a demon to bring down. Remember that. The Chuke is not your friend. No one in Emerge is. Only a matter of time before the jackals paint you as the villain.” 


He shifts his attention to look out of the windshield. 


Annabelle does the same. 


She’s tired. 


She is done talking.


Leaning back in her seat, she relaxes as Ben finally pulls out the parking lot. 


==


<PROMO TIME>


The scene opens with Benjamin Flynn standing in a dingy alleyway. A chain link fence is behind him. One orange bucket is situated to his right. Another orange bucket is situated to his left. He gets down on both knees. Maintaining his focus on the camera he starts to speak.   



“Ladies and gentlemen, imagine taping up your fist like a boxer does before slipping on a thick pair of boxing gloves.” 


Benjamin reaches into his pocket, pulls out a spool of thick tape. At a moderate pace he demonstrates the action of taping up both his hands. Holding his hands up to show they are properly taped up he continues. 


“Next, imagine submerging those same hands in a bucket of glue.” 


He sticks his hands in the orange bucket to his right.  


“Don’t stop there. Remove your taped up hands from the glue bucket, submerge those same glue soaked, taped up hands into a bucket of broken glass.” 


He removes his hands from the bucket with the glue. Immediately he sticks his hands in the other orange bucket. 


“Now, remove them from the bucket. Look at your glue soaked hands with shards of glass melded to the tape.” 


He removes his hands from the bucket of broken glass. He marvels at the sight of his hand. 


“Do you salivate at the level of carnage you can inflict on another human being?”


He shakes his head. Benjamin stands up. He gazes blankly into the camera. 


“In fairness, Dani can’t phantom the decision she just made.”


“Dani comes across like a sweet girl. A little naive. Wet between the ears. Her soul ambition is to prove beyond a shadow of a reasonable doubt that she is capable of holding a job no other General Manager before her, including me, could withstand for any length of time.”


“The post of General Manager broke Vanilla Skky.”


“Led to Dexter becoming a gimp for The Unforgiven.”


“The GM post forced me out of the company I would lay down for.”


“Decisions like this are the reason why Dani will ultimately become a victim of the seat she was chosen for.”


“Heavy Is The Crown is a bit of a self profiling phoprocey.”


Benjamin winks. 


“The fans will be entertained by Melissa and Annabelle tearing each other limb from limb. Dani, have you bothered to ask yourself what are the possible consequences of the brutal, life changing match you recklessly signed off on? How can you honestly believe this Taipei Deathmatch will solve anything?”


“Silly girl.” Benjamin shakes his head.  “What you have done is open up a literal Pandora’s Box I no longer have control over. The more Annabelle bludgeons Melissa Killgraves into submission the more Anna feeds into her bloodlust. With each blow that cuts Melissa up like a butcher cutting through steak, the more Anna is reminded of the darkness she chose a life of solitude for five years to protect the world from.”


“Giving an addict a means to fulfill their addiction is not a smart play. Win or lose, Annabelle Burchard will never be the same again, is that your end goal, Dani? To give Annabelle the means to explore some of the dark fantasies that float in her mind on a weekly basis? Fantasies she doesn’t act on outside of wrestling, thank goodness. But you need to understand Dani, if you believe the more aggressive primitive side of Annabelle is not who she is, handing her the means to ensure the humiliation of Melissa Killgraves is not a great long term play.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you, The Unforgiven are a menace to this company. They need to be dealt with once and for all. Without Melissa, who else is left to pick up the slack with Willow all but ex-communicated from their ranks. I caution you Dani... be careful what you wish for. Bloodsports like the match that will happen on the 3rd of August can define your legacy.”


Ben takes a deep breath. 


“August 3rd could be the day you regret for the rest of your tenure. Bet you are surely aware of the adage, He who fights with monsters is sure to become one. I have a maxim of my own, don’t tempt a monster to do bad things. Nature versus nurture is a curious beast. Nurture usually wins out. Annabelle’s nature will be the reason Melissa finally learns she bit off more than she can chew.”


“You’ve been warned.”


“All of you have.”


Benjamin Flynn walks away as the scene fades to black.

[Ruppy]

Ignore the pain… sleep it off…

Ever since she’d joined The Unforgiven, this had almost become a mantra of sorts for Melissa Killgraves. Whatever pain she endured either through actual competition or the rigorous training she was subjected to at the hands of Cindy Todd, she just mentally blocked it out until it was time to turn in from the day, at which point she would just let the pain lull her to sleep so her body could rest and heal until the next day. Some might believe she was subjecting herself to a sense of torture through this, but being taken under Cindy’s wing was arguably the first time she’d willingly embraced this work ethic.

Once upon a time, it would just be the natural way of things forcibly ingrained into her by her father’s attempts to make her follow in his footsteps, and as much as she used to hate this routine, it became second nature to her a long time ago.

Melissa could only scowl as her father crossed her mind once more as she laid down on the couch in the hotel room she was sharing with Claire and Jennifer, knowing they were both out cold by now together in bed since her training had gone a bit late. The man had been quite a conflicting topic on her mind for the past several weeks because while he was always a great ignition point for the inferno that was Melissa’s anger so she could weaponize it, she couldn’t get her mind off the absolute breakdown she witnessed from someone she would begrudgingly admit was probably the strongest person she knew and pondered if the caring father he had buried beneath the military discipline was finally fighting to reveal itself, far too late.

Deep down, the little girl who never felt like she truly had any parents to guide her in life was touched by the prospect that she might finally get her wish after all these years, but Melissa wanted to keep herself planted firmly in the reality that Cindy and The Unforgiven had, despite what others think of them, been more of a family to her than she’d ever had before, and she was more than happy with fighting for them against those who tried to force her to pick a side and wouldn’t simply let her go about her own business.

Despite the darkness of the room, Melissa couldn’t resist looking down at her knuckles, which had been bruised and scarred from abuse day after day in preparation for this Taipei Death Match that she hoped would finally settle things once and for all with Annabelle Burchard. Even if it wasn’t for her ability to fuel herself with rage from the thought that this issue had still not been settled because of some guy who was also under this delusional belief of seeking redemption at her expense, she had to wonder what was truly going through Annabelle’s mind about this match. After all, it was no secret at this point that being able to engage in a bare-knuckle fight was among the military training she’d been forced to receive growing up ‘in the event she was disarmed in combat’ and one of the biggest weapons in her arsenal that people tended to forget about was a violent haymaker punch that could and would knock out just about anybody. Asking her to tape up these fists and glue broken glass to them was effectively telling the ‘lost little lamb of God’ that she was fighting on Melissa’s terms now, which only ever meant bad things.

A low growl escaped the military maiden’s throat as her father briefly resurfaced in her thoughts, forcing her to try and get as comfortable as possible despite the throbbing agony her hands were in before squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to simply knock her out so she could begin this process all over again. It wasn’t like she could see the man even if she wanted to, considering that even without Emerge in the equation he was either sitting in a prison cell or a straightjacket, and she seriously doubted she’d get visitation rights considering she was the trigger to his present instability. He’d be a puzzle to figure out at a later point in time… right now all she needed to focus on was literally beating Annabelle to a bloody pulp, and that was the thought she settled on as sleep finally began to overtake her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The roar of the crowd…

That was the only thing Melissa could register in her adrenaline rush, and it was all she needed to keep her going.

Her vision was blurry and she couldn’t make out the details, but all she needed to know was that she was fighting someone in the ring and she had knocked them back into the ropes with enough force that their arms were trapped. Like a shark smelling blood, she quickly closed the distance and began leveling the defenseless soul with brutal haymaker after brutal haymaker, feeling their blood spattering against her skin with every blow that only seemed to further entice the bloodthirsty sea of humanity around her. Maybe this was an omen of what awaited Annabelle? Maybe this was actually happening and she was on the verge of leaving the woman questioning once and for all if this had been a good idea at any point in time? Maybe it was someone else that was on the receiving end of this treatment that deserved it, considering there were plenty of names on that list?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. All she knew was that by this point the coat of blood had to be so thick that nobody could make out the identity of the person beneath the crimson mask. Even then, there was no hint of remorse or restraint as she kept hammering away, almost like she was in a trance and violence was the only thing she could comprehend at that moment. The life of the person on the other end of her fists was irrelevant… all that mattered to her was making a statement that no one would ever forget.

A statement that would soon be stopped when she was finally pried off the trapped individual and dragged away, her vision briefly clearing just enough to see a limp carcass trapped like a prisoner in a dungeon as blood trailed down their body like a waterfall into a disturbingly large pool at their feet. She tried to return to her onslaught, but whatever was holding her was determined to keep her away from her prey at all costs. The idea of an official risking himself to try and stop her was the first thought that came to mind, and she immediately latched onto it as it was the only thing that made sense to her.

“Let me go, ref! I don’t care if she can’t continue, I want to make sure she understands that this is over!”

“You’re right Melissa… it’s over. But was going too far to prove a point really worth it?”

That voice… the chill that went down her spine introduced the first moment of clarity she’d had in this moment. Her vision almost immediately cleared up and whatever pain and fatigue had been coursing through her veins was suddenly gone. She didn’t want to believe it, but when she saw a referee actually move in to check on the person she’d been bludgeoning, she knew there was no other possibility. Finding her anger once more, she violently twisted around and tried to slam the point of her elbow into the face of the man she expected to be standing behind her, only to find nothing there as the force holding her back was inexplicably gone.

As was everything that had been around her just a second ago.

It took a moment for her to get her bearings, but Melissa didn’t seem fazed by the idea of standing in a seemingly vacant space. She was more concerned about the voice she’d heard and trying to find it, leading her to take a few steps forward as she looked all around her. Growling in frustration that she was seemingly still being haunted by him even when he was an ocean away, she slowed to a stop when something seemed to appear before her out of thin air, resting on the ground in an open gold jewelry box. She leaned down and retrieved it, her grip on it tightening once she got a closer look at it.

In her hand was a photo she hadn’t seen in years… a photo of her after an elementary school play while she was still in costume, sitting on the broad soldier of her father, beaming with the kind of pride she could barely recall him ever showing her despite recognizing the facial expression.

“Do you remember that night Melissa? I remember how proud I was of my little girl being a leading lady at such a young age.”

Melissa turned around and immediately found herself locking eyes with her father. It didn’t take long for her anger to begin boiling over again, but when she tried to march towards him she found her body refusing to cooperate, almost as if she’d been petrified. No amount of grunting or angry yelling or brute force could cause a single muscle to even so much as flex, and it only served to piss her off more. Looking back at her old man since that seemed to be the only thing she was actually able to do, she found her anger starting to ebb away like a wave after crashing into a cliff. Standing before her was not the beloved military hero in full Army regalia or the police chief that busted his ass to uphold the law the way it should be upheld in today’s world. No… he stood before her with no sense of sternness or expectation, dressed in the same semi-casual outfit he’d worn on the night the photo was taken, staring at her not with anger or hatred or even a hidden demand for her to give up what she’d built for herself. It was a look she hadn’t seen in so long she could barely recall it, a look she truly believed no longer existed.

Sgt. Brett Killgraves was giving his daughter a look that told her how proud he was of her.

“Look at you, young lady. You’ve forged your own path, made a name for yourself separate from anything you could’ve ever gained just by serving our country just as I did. You’ve proven yourself to be a champion… I want to be proud of you, but it’s hard to show that pride when we’ve both made mistakes.”

“Mistakes!? You want to talk about mistakes? The only mistake I’ve ever truly made was not getting the hell away from you sooner! I made it no secret that I was miserable living under your roof because all you ever did was treat me like just another soldier who needed to be convinced they should be willing to die for their country!”

“I can’t fault you for being upset Melissa. I’ve had a lot of time to think on it and… I finally realize that I haven’t truly been a father to you. I was so caught up in what I’d accomplish that I stopped seeing you as your own person and instead-”

“Will you shut the hell up and spare me the speech!? You aren’t fooling me… whatever this is, I know it’s all some ploy to get me to abandon wrestling and-”

Melissa’s mouth immediately snapped shut when she felt his hand on her shoulder. It was nothing like when he’d tried to arrest her near the end of 2019 that ultimately led to what should be his present incarceration. It was the kind of touch a father gives to their child when trying to calm them down and show them that they are not alone in whatever struggle is bothering them. She tried to resume her counter rant, but now her lips betrayed her and acted as though they were sewn shut, leaving her with no choice but to hear her father speak once more.

“I’ve made mistakes Melissa… I’m only human, just like you. I have no one to blame but myself for the way I tried to raise you, the path I tried to make you walk even when you told me it wasn’t what you wanted. I let my stubbornness get the better of me, just like you have. You were so desperate to try and sever all ties with me that you allowed yourself to be led astray.”

“I-”

“Can you honestly tell me that things are any different under Cindy than they were with me? You work yourself to the bone preparing to fight in a war and you’ve never shown any true appreciation for it. When you succeed, it’s just one step forward. When you fail, you’re treated as though you’re worthless. Was becoming a monster really worth it just to show me what kind of monster I’ve been?”

Even if she had the ability to truly speak, Melissa would be at a loss for words right now, especially when her father fully embraced her, the photo in her hand of that rare happy childhood memory between them falling from her grasp and fading away. It was the kind of warm, loving hug that seemed nonexistent from this man even in his kindest of moments, and here she was, finding herself in it as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She was listening to her father admit to all of his faults, something he would never do, and in the process, he was making her question the choices she had made. In The Unforgiven, she had finally found a family, and yet her actual birth father was causing her to wonder if things truly were any different between her old life and her new one. She could hear a voice screaming at the top of its lungs in the back of her head, demanding that he let her go and shut his mouth, but he only hugged her tighter, causing her entire body to feel like an inferno was engulfing it. She could feel her senses fading, the confusing feeling consuming her, and when he spoke one more time, it was almost as though she could finally feel something shatter, decimating her perception of whatever was going on right now.

“All I want is a second chance, Melissa. Everyone deserves at least that… even you…”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With an audible gasp, Melissa suddenly shot up, taking several deep breaths as she took a moment to get her bearings. The darkness was a familiar feeling surrounding her, but after her ears caught the quiet breathing of her best friends in their slumber, it finally hit her that she’d been dreaming. Groaning, she pulled herself off the couch and made her way into the bathroom, turning on both the light and the faucet so she could splash some water on her face, hoping to snap herself out of whatever daze she was in so she could forget about the thoughts running through her head and try to get some more sleep. After all, Cindy wasn’t going to accept a lack of sleep as an excuse to keep her from being ready to put an end to this Annabelle situation once and for all.

As she shifted her focus to the mirror in front of her, she found her eyes widening as what looked like her father was hugging her from behind in the kind of embrace that was meant to show her that he was still there for her and not giving up on her. She could swear she still heard him trying to tell her that it wasn’t too late to leave this all behind… that he loved her and wanted a second chance to be her father and let her live her life her way. To her, it was reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard, and she couldn’t take it anymore as she let out a scream of pure, unadulterated fury.

The smashing of glass… a searing pain coursing through her hand… that was all that registered to her after that.

She could hear the panicked cries of Claire and Jennifer, having been awoken by the sound and standing in the doorway in shock at what they saw before trying to pull her away to fix her up. She could feel the blood pouring from her hand as her training wounds were reopened along with a few new areas of torn open flesh. Even as she blankly stared down at the mess, all she could focus on was the sudden silence that finally embraced her thoughts. She didn’t know if it was one last desperate attempt to force the situation with her father behind a barrier so she could compete unhindered, or if she was finding acceptance in the idea that sometimes, when you go too far, there is no such thing as redemption.

The only thing that brought a disturbing smile to her face that would have made even Cindy Todd feel unashamedly proud was the feeling of glass puncturing her flesh, and how she would soon be able to use that to prove to Annabelle that in losing her chance to seek redemption, she had already lost this war and just didn’t know it yet.