The Witches of Alden
”Distance”
Atlanta Marriot Marquis Hotel
Atlanta, Georgia
November 13th, 2023
5:41am
As her eyes opened within the dark room, her body unable to really respond to anything as she awakened, Deanna couldn’t remember a single thing. Her body was like a computer rebooting, incapable of performing any of its routine functions or access any of its data/memory. All she could see was the ceiling of the room, dimly illuminated by the nightlight coming from the bathroom of the one bed hotel apartment.
In that moment, a second that seemed to span out in her mind for a solid half-minute, Deanna was happy. She only felt the comfort of the bed supporting her frame – the bed itself much bigger than her, being a King-size and all. She could see the shadows on the wall and ceiling, the shapes they were making over the slightest flicker within the filament of the small lightbulb in the next room. She could feel the softness of the pillow against the back of her head… and the small puddle of drool that was on the pillowcase. Shifting her head allowed her to feel the tangles in her hair, but also a little stiffness from some of the strands due to the dry blood-
Blood…
As if that was the login password to her ‘system reboot’, her eyes suddenly slammed shut as she felt the tidal wave of pain crash into her. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out as every part of her, now awake as she was, sounded off! Her back, her legs, her head, her arms, her knees, there wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t in pain somehow. Some of it was dull and throbbing while other parts were sharp and intense!
For a moment, all she could do was breath, inhaling and exhaling as the pain slowly settled back down, her body doing its best to subdue it. She felt her body relax, if only a little, after the initial onslaught, but not enough to allow her to settle back into sleep. She wasn’t even sure how she managed to get to sleep at this point… or how any of this happened. Her mind was still groggy in terms of the details – barely waking up before being assailed with aches and pains.
Still, she tried to process things as she pulled herself up to sit on her bed, he eyes scanning the dimly lit room. She immediately recognized that she as in a hotel. She didn’t have the “Believe it!” bus at her disposal – her choice, she knew – so, she had chosen to spend the night in the city rather than trudge home. Okay, that made sense, her mind processed.
The details slowly leaked through her awakening mind in a similar manner.
Needing a hotel because she didn’t have the limo bus.
Because she was up late into the night. Because she had a pay-per-view match.
Under Attack. A pay-per-match that was her defending her United States title in the Elimination Chamber.
She breathed, inhaling and exhaling through every fact that rebooted in her mind. She didn’t go much further right away; only what was important. Why she was in this hotel room and why she was in pain. That was enough right now.
“Okay…” she breathed in a whisper. “You can do this… up.”
With as much ‘gusto’ as she could manage, the redhead pushed herself up to her feet, her whole body protesting as she did, but she ignored it. It was only when she was standing that she realized how strange her body felt, and not just from the aches and pains. There was something weighted on her skin. Her neck too sore to really look, she settled on running her hands over her body. Instead of feeling the silkiness of her green nightgown (which she knew she had packed) or even the feel of skin and underwear (which was also an option some nights), she felt the rough fabric of her jeans and the slightly damp-from-sweat fabric of her t-shirt.
She had fallen asleep on the bed, still in her street clothes.
The sound, meant to be a laugh, that escaped her was more of a breathy huff-puff that she choked out at her own situation. Why was she surprised by this? She didn’t know but she knew what it meant.
“Come on…” she groaned as she painfully wrestled out of her shirt, jeans and underwear and socks as best as she could, letting the garments drop wherever they did to the floor. In the dark, her hand, once free, ran across the nightstand to grab her phone, though she did not look at it. Instead, she followed the light coming from the bathroom until she was standing on the tiles. Without a word and a not caring how early it was (who else was in the room but her?), the redhead set up the towels and curtains before turning the water on in the tub, pumping it to nearly the hottest it could go. She kept her eyes barely open, just enough to see what she was doing, but that was all she allowed. Casting her eyes on the counter top, she spied the toiletries she had set up when she checked in. Her toothbrush and toothpaste – she still did not pack any advil or ibuprofen… mostly because of her wife.
Old habits.
Turning back around, she placed her hand in the water, flinching a little at the heat but refusing to turn it down. She wanted that level of discomfort in terms of how ‘hot’ the water was. Slowly, grimacing as her body ached, the redhead lowered herself into the tub, feeling her whole body flinch as she sank into the waters, feeling the porcelain support her small frame. She placed her phone on the toilet lid to ensure it didn’t get wet before letting her eyes closed as she leaned against the downward slope of the tub-wall. The hot water continued to rise and soak her legs and ribs, dulling quite a bit of the pain, or at least distracting her from it.
It was enough to allow her thoughts to resume coming back to her. The chamber…
“Gods how many finishers did I take?” she asked out loud, her voice little more than a whisper in the dimly lit room. She couldn’t even remember all of last night. She remembered Gavin’s lariat. She remembered being rammed into steel and pods and plexiglass. Flashes of memory – that was it. And pain. So much pain. She could easily recall moments in the match that she had found herself regretting making this challenge, if only for a moment, like ‘What the hell was I thinking?!’ moments that she had to snap herself out of – assuming she was conscious enough to do that at the time, which wasn’t always the case. She was sure there were moments she had been knocked out. Positive. How else could she explain the gaps in her memory?
She just let what memories still existed in her mind come to her. Starting the match, taking the damage, dealing some good shots, pinning Polly and hearing the bell. Being helped backstage. This was where it started to get more and more fuzzy, so much so that Deanna struggled to remember anything past it. She DID recall holding up the title, hearing her name and getting backstage and she had a vague recollection of being seen with the on-site SCW medical staff to deal with the cut and blood on her face. But how she managed to get home? How she managed to get into her room? Total blank.
Had someone helped her? She didn’t recall that. But how had she driven home? She had been so banged up that walking was difficult. Had she taken an Uber? She must have. She had taken one from the hotel to the arena at the start of the night –
that’s right, I did! Because I didn’t trust being able to drive a car after a chamber match! Ha! Ha! Don’t say I can’t plan ahead! she thought in triumph. The SCW staff had probably called her one. Or maybe Luz or Amelia had helped her! That could have been it! She would have to ask them about that later.
She shifted a little in the hot water, turning it off as it reached the fullness she desired of the tub. “Okay…” she breathed. “Sum up… chamber, banged up, still United States Champion.”
That last thought brought a shrill of pride in her that she could not ignore. She had done what she wanted. She had made the challenge to CHBK to incorporate herself into the Under Attack tradition and ‘proving grounds’ for that sole purpose. Since September, she had been forced to ‘sink or swim’ in SCW on her own. And rather than be a ‘victim’ of it, Deanna had opted to steer into it and embrace it by making the biggest challenge to herself that she could think of. Not only that, it would be a test for her. She had made it halfway through the chamber last year, facing hall of famers and former world champions. This time? She had done the exact same thing and won.
She now had that. She could now say that she, Deanna Frost, had, on her own, with no help or assistance, won an Elimination Chamber match. How many people could say that as a singles wrestler? Not many. Hell, not even Selena could!
Okay, she knew she shouldn’t have felt smug about that, but damn! It felt good! Her wife had won several cage and chamber matches but she had never won a singles elimination chamber match! Not in almost ten years! Deanna had!
And it wasn’t that Deanna was going to brag about that or be so stupid as to see herself as ‘better’ than Selena, no! But this was proof, wasn’t it? This was the evidence she needed! The last they had talked, Selena had gone on and on about Deanna ‘going down the road Selena had gone’ that had left her bitter and angry at SCW. Well, wasn’t this proof that that didn’t have to happen? She wasn’t going down the same road as Selena! She was going down her own path! Doing things that Selena hadn’t done! Selena had never been an Underground champion. Never been a ‘Rookie of the Year’. And never won a singles competition Elimination Chamber! See?! The path was different! COULD be different. It didn’t have to end with Deanna becoming bitter and hating SCW just because the fans didn’t agree with her! It was fine! They weren’t bad – the SCW Universe – they just weren’t seeing what the House of Frost was seeing and wanting. Nothing wrong with that! ‘Agree to Disagree’! What was so bad at that?
So they wanted Kandis as world champion – so what? Was that a bad thing to want someone skilled enough to beat Selena, even if they were morally bankrupt? Actually, was she still world champion? Deanna had missed that match and forgotten most of the night after the chamber –
oh gods, I didn’t check on the girls! – Deanna suddenly jerked a little up, immediately recoiling with a hiss as her back protested under the movement, forcing the redhead to rest back against the tub. She couldn’t remember anything from Amelia and Luz’s tag-title match against Dark Fantasy! The one where Light in the Darkness were challenging for the SCW world tag-team titles! Desperately, Deanna racked her memory, ignoring the headache she still had. There had to be some clue! Some thing she could recall! Something said!
But nothing came to her. No clue or shred of memory that indicated whether or not her friends had achieved their dream of becoming the SCW world tag-team champions! Gods, Deanna hoped they had with all her heart.
Opening her eyes a little, the young woman allowed herself to scan around the bathroom before her eyes settled on the toilet where she had left her phone, the idea hitting her almost immediately. Quickly, and doing her best to ignore the pain, she reached over to wipe her hands and arms dry with the nearby towel before grabbing at her phone. Unlocking it and ignoring the dozen or so missed notifications of updates and emails and whatnot, she checked Google Chrome.
“SCW Under Attack 2023 results” she read as she typed. Finding a wrestling blog was not hard to do with such a title, but the popups were a pain the butt! Still, Deanna swiped through best she could until she could read the results, her eyes flying past opinions and pictures of people’s ‘live tweets’ during the event or whatever they were called now, until she saw the result she needed to read.
“Light in the Darkness beats Dark Fantasy to become new SCW tag-team champions… YES!” she cried out, delight filling her despite the pain in her body. She was so happy for her friends! Losing the tag-titles had been heartbreaking for her, not to mention the controversy that had been the ‘rematch’, joke as that was, that followed between Rated-X and the House of Frost, but Light in the Darkness? Gods, they deserved this chance! She couldn’t wait to talk to them about it and properly congratulate them, not to mention see what they could do with the division now that they were at the front of it.
Oh, maybe they’re free for breakfast or brunch!
Quickly, Deanna threw a text to Amelia and Luz, simply congratulating them, apologizing for being so ‘out of it last night’ and offering, if they were still in Atlanta, to meet up for some congratulatory brunch/breakfast!
It wasn’t until she had finished and sent the message that she allowed herself to clear out the cache of notifications that littered the top bar of her phone. As she did, however, her eyes, still tired, managed to catch the ‘text notification’, specifically the name tied with it.
Selena.
The redhead almost dropped her phone at the sight but managed to keep a hold of it. She also wasn’t sure which emotion would win out inside of her. The shock and surprise or the anger and frustration.
Selena had not contacted her at all in the nine or ten days since Deanna had stormed out of their house over that argument. Not a text, not a phone call, or something on messenger. Nothing. Nothing after everything she had said. Nothing after Deanna had laid it all on the line for the platinum-blonde. After Deanna had called her out on so many things, even calling the former wrestler a coward for hiding away from SCW just because no body believed in them anymore.
The problem wasn’t that she regretted what she said. The problem was that she had meant it and still meant it. The SCW Universe had hated Deanna merely by association with her wife, but last night? They had cheered her! They had applauded her victory. Meaning it was possible! It WAS possible to turn things around. Not that Deanna needed the fans approval or even belief to do what she wished to do in SCW, but it was possible to get them to stop hating her.
Which meant it was possible for Selena, too! Why couldn’t her wife see that? No! Selena was happier just keeping her eyes and ears covered and hiding from that possibility! Hiding behind this fascade of being a housewife.
Frustrated, Deanna leaned back into the hot water of the tub, breathing a little against the aches and pains. She was probably in for a long week of recovery and she knew it, but she was more irritated at her inability of what to do now. She wanted to read the message, but she was so tired and not wanting to get angrier from it. Still, what if it was an apology?
Over a week too late… she growled a little at the thought. Still, with a long sigh, she opened the message up to read it.
Good luck.
That was it. Those two words. That was all her wife had sent her. Quickly, Deanna scanned the contents of the message, specifically the ‘time sent’ feature. According to the numbers, her phone had gotten the message fifteen minutes before Deanna’s match with the elimination chamber, which was why Deanna hadn’t been able to read it till now.
“Good luck.” Deanna read. “That’s it.”
She wasn’t sure if anger or disappointment was winning out in her emotions, but she didn’t like either of them being present. On one hand, the anger was directed at the lack of effort over everything Selena had said. No apology or explanation or trying to patch things up. Nope. ‘Good luck’. On the other hand, disappointment. No other message meant that the older Frost hadn’t seen the chamber match. Hadn’t seen Deanna figure out a way to win the chamber on her own – WITHOUT the strategy Selena apparently ‘knew all along’ to help her win. Nor had Selena seen how the fans had cheered for Deanna afterwards, thus proving things were not as bad or ‘set in stone’ in SCW as Selena believed.
Nope. Two words. That was all Deanna – all she had said from her heart to Selena that night - that was all such things were worth right now to the ‘great’ Snow Queen. With a sigh, Deanna tossed the cellphone out of the bathroom, past the open door and onto the carpeted floor of the hotel room with a dull set of thuds.
“Now what?” she asked herself, letting her body sink further into the hot water, her legs moving up to prop her feet against the wall to allow more space for her upper body to soak in the hot water. It was the only question she could ponder now. Should she go home? Should she keep her promise and stay away? What about the kids? Would they understand? Would they assume the worst over a ‘lover’s quarrel’?
She didn’t know and she hated that. All Selena had to do was open up and talk about this – like REALLY talk about this! Be open to new ideas and new things. Respect her wife’s opinion. But no! She was still just trying to control everything. No different than when she had been in SCW except it was in THEIR home! In THEIR marriage!
Which meant that if Deanna went back now, she would just be walking right back into it. Her earlier demand in their argument for Selena to contact her only when she grew up and was the woman Deanna had married would be mute – an empty bluff.
And Deanna couldn’t allow that.
She didn’t want to go home to that Selena. She didn’t want to see that Selena who thought that she was only worth two words of ‘Good luck’ after the spat they had. She didn’t want that Selena. She wanted HER Selena back – screw how the platinum-blonde was perceived in SCW, that didn’t matter. She just wanted her Selena back.
“And if I go home now…” she whispered. “I’ll never see her again.”
It was the most damning truth she realized, more painful than the aches that laced her entire body from that chamber. The truth that she had to stay away. Stay away from their ‘Forever Home’.
Because loss was the only language – at this point – that Deanna believed her wife would truly understand…
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