Post by Brytain Montgomery on Jul 17, 2013 22:59:02 GMT -5
It was a confusing feeling.
It was like that place between sleep and awake, but she couldn’t seem to wake up. Everything felt fuzzy as she lapsed in and out of semi-consciousness. Her arms and legs were dead weights and as much as she tried to force an eyelid to crack open, her eyes stayed shut. Her throat was dry and aching and the pain in her head made her sick to the stomach.
She could hear the squeak of non-skid rubber soles on tile. A nurse. She could hear the woman humming, the beeping of machines and then a rush of warmth. Shit, they’d given her something.
xxx
She could feel a hand slowly, gently ruffling her hair. She struggled to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. She felt heavy.
“It's odd... I'd never imagine that I'd actually grow close to someone and think of them as something close to family,” the voice was familiar. Not the one she wanted, but close. “But... over the last couple of months, you've been something like a sister to me. Granted an annoying, talkative sister... but a sister nonetheless.”
There was a heavy sigh.
“ With all that has gone on over the last several weeks, you've probably been the only thing close to normal... so with that said... get better. He needs you... he needs you so he can live beyond the monster of his own design.”
xxx
There was a man’s voice, familiar. It registered even through the sluggish firing of her brain’s synapses. He wanted to be taken to “her”.
A stranger was asking the familiar voice why he was covered in blood.
xxx
Time meant nothing. She wasn’t aware of it passing. Without sight, without being able to move and speak... the painkillers. Everything was distorting her sense of time. It could have been days between each semi-conscious episode. Hours. Minutes.
“No...”
There was a hand in hers. She knew it, knew its owner. Knew the familiar way it fit around her own small hand. She wanted to squeeze it but her body refused.
xxx
Her throat ached violently. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth.
She couldn’t move that either.
She could almost feel him standing in the doorway. It was like something inside of her recognized something inside of him. No matter what. No matter where.
The sound of a cane on tile. Limping.
“...I......I don't know what to.......Brytain....this wasn't supposed to happen.....” the voice was ragged, hoarse. “....you weren't supposed to be.....” A hand in hers again. She longed to squeeze it. To lace her fingers through his.
“Please.....please wake up, Brytain....”
xxx
A woman was crying. She could almost place it, it felt familiar but she couldn’t name it.
“Brytain... goddamn it. Wake the fuck up, now.”
The words were harsh but the voice was soft. Trembling.
It made her heart hurt to hear it.
“You don’t get to do this to me. Not now. Not after ten fucking years of putting up with your shit. You don’t get to... go...”
A soft hand stroked her cheek, it felt soothing and familiar.
She remembered another time that same hand had stroked her cheek. She’d been sick, then. A fever.
Jordy.
xxx
The shuffling of feet.
A hand hesitantly pushing a lock of hair off of her forehead and a long sigh.
“Bryte...” he said. She knew this voice too. Everything was so incredibly familiar and yet, so distant and strange.
“I’m so sorry I let this happen...” he said.
In her head, she could see a pink mohawk.
Dom.
Her best friend.
“I will... I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again, Bryte.”
xxx
There was silence, nothing but the squeak of shoes in the hallway and the soft breathing of someone nearby. It was her fingers that moved first, sliding over the scratchy hospital bed sheets.
A soft, pained whimper escaped her dry, cracked lips and she stirred, her body finally cooperating with her will to move. Every movement was an excruciating mix of pleasure and pain.
It hurt, but at least she was alive.
“M...michael?,” she managed. Her eyes were still closed, she’d exhausted all of her energy on that one word.
Everything was starting to come back. The barbed wire massacre match at PDW’s Legendary. She couldn’t remember much of the match itself. There were tiny fragments that only hinted at the larger picture.
The blood.
Zack Lifer wrapping a length of barbed wire around her throat and choking her with it.
The chair to the head and everything spinning.
Beyond that, she couldn’t remember much. Maybe she didn’t want to. It had ended with her here, after all. She knew, had known, that she was in the hospital. She’d known that her chances of dying in that match were higher than any that she’d faced before. So to find herself breathing and above ground was something of a feat in and of itself.
When Syn spoke, his voice was a rasp. Hoarse and all but gone. “I’m here...”
Finally, Brytain’s eyes slowly opened. Her vivid blue eyes focusing and refocusing on his face. She felt a rush of emotion: relief, comfort and most of all love. She could see the emotions flickering over his face as he tried to hold them back and one of his hands found hers, taking it gently.
Her eyes slowly focused on his as she gripped his hand as tightly as she her weak grasp would allow. “Hey you...”
She tried for a smile, weakly mumbling, “Love you...”
He stared down at her, a single tear falling down his cheek as he hoarsely mumbled, “Love you more.”
Brytain’s hand was shaking and it took nearly all of her depleted energy to reach up to wipe the tear away. When she spoke, she could barely recognize her own voice. It was raspy and soft from the damage done to her throat from the barbed wire. “You... okay?”
Syn looked away, “Almost lost you...”
The hollow sound in his voice made something deep inside of her chest ache. “Stuck... with me...” she managed. “Can’t go yet.”
xxx
“This isn’t personal...”
Brytain smiled, her face still paler than usual and the color of her leather jacket turned up to hide the mess of bruises and stitched together wounds around her throat.
“This has nothing to do with Mya Denton. This is just... good fortune.” Her smile turned colder, more like a snarl. “If you want to blame anyone, Mya, blame The Powers That Be. This... match... was just a stroke of good luck. Something that fell into my lap and provided me with the opportunity to do what I’m going to do. To put Smith Jones’ back against the wall for a change.
Though, I wonder how much he truly cares about you since he was willing to sacrifice your safety and well being for his game.
This has nothing to do with whatever the hell is going on between with and Smithy, honestly. You seem to be under the mistaken conclusion that I care about your little dilemma. Your inability to be loyal to someone who gave you a year of his life. I don’t care.
But... your little tryst with Smith DID provide me with a bit of leverage, if you will. See, a man like Smith Jones doesn’t care about much. What could I possibly do to force his hand the way that he’s trying to force mine? Scuff his little white boots?
But when Smith let you in, he also gave me the one thing that I needed to push back. He gave me a weakness. And whether or not he knows it yet, that weakness is you. See, Smith is trying to call my bluff. He thinks that I won’t go through with whatever devious, dark thing that my black little heart has conjured up. He thinks that deep down, I am still a good person. A person who would never go out of her way to systematically destroy an ‘innocent’ person.
Though...” Brytain smirks, “You’re not really all that innocent, are you?
Smith thinks that something will hold me back. He thinks I’ll change my mind. He thinks that he made the right choice when he refused to take your place. He didn’t. And that’s unfortunate for you.
Because from now until Smith Jones agrees to take his goddamn shot, I will be the thing that exists only in your nightmares. I will dog your every step. I will take you apart piece by piece until all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t put you back together again.
So if you’re smart?
And you are a smart girl, aren’t you, Mya?
If you’re smart, you’ll get on your hands and knees and you’ll beg Smith Jones to get in the ring with me.”
It was like that place between sleep and awake, but she couldn’t seem to wake up. Everything felt fuzzy as she lapsed in and out of semi-consciousness. Her arms and legs were dead weights and as much as she tried to force an eyelid to crack open, her eyes stayed shut. Her throat was dry and aching and the pain in her head made her sick to the stomach.
She could hear the squeak of non-skid rubber soles on tile. A nurse. She could hear the woman humming, the beeping of machines and then a rush of warmth. Shit, they’d given her something.
xxx
She could feel a hand slowly, gently ruffling her hair. She struggled to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. She felt heavy.
“It's odd... I'd never imagine that I'd actually grow close to someone and think of them as something close to family,” the voice was familiar. Not the one she wanted, but close. “But... over the last couple of months, you've been something like a sister to me. Granted an annoying, talkative sister... but a sister nonetheless.”
There was a heavy sigh.
“ With all that has gone on over the last several weeks, you've probably been the only thing close to normal... so with that said... get better. He needs you... he needs you so he can live beyond the monster of his own design.”
xxx
There was a man’s voice, familiar. It registered even through the sluggish firing of her brain’s synapses. He wanted to be taken to “her”.
A stranger was asking the familiar voice why he was covered in blood.
xxx
Time meant nothing. She wasn’t aware of it passing. Without sight, without being able to move and speak... the painkillers. Everything was distorting her sense of time. It could have been days between each semi-conscious episode. Hours. Minutes.
“No...”
There was a hand in hers. She knew it, knew its owner. Knew the familiar way it fit around her own small hand. She wanted to squeeze it but her body refused.
xxx
Her throat ached violently. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth.
She couldn’t move that either.
She could almost feel him standing in the doorway. It was like something inside of her recognized something inside of him. No matter what. No matter where.
The sound of a cane on tile. Limping.
“...I......I don't know what to.......Brytain....this wasn't supposed to happen.....” the voice was ragged, hoarse. “....you weren't supposed to be.....” A hand in hers again. She longed to squeeze it. To lace her fingers through his.
“Please.....please wake up, Brytain....”
xxx
A woman was crying. She could almost place it, it felt familiar but she couldn’t name it.
“Brytain... goddamn it. Wake the fuck up, now.”
The words were harsh but the voice was soft. Trembling.
It made her heart hurt to hear it.
“You don’t get to do this to me. Not now. Not after ten fucking years of putting up with your shit. You don’t get to... go...”
A soft hand stroked her cheek, it felt soothing and familiar.
She remembered another time that same hand had stroked her cheek. She’d been sick, then. A fever.
Jordy.
xxx
The shuffling of feet.
A hand hesitantly pushing a lock of hair off of her forehead and a long sigh.
“Bryte...” he said. She knew this voice too. Everything was so incredibly familiar and yet, so distant and strange.
“I’m so sorry I let this happen...” he said.
In her head, she could see a pink mohawk.
Dom.
Her best friend.
“I will... I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again, Bryte.”
xxx
There was silence, nothing but the squeak of shoes in the hallway and the soft breathing of someone nearby. It was her fingers that moved first, sliding over the scratchy hospital bed sheets.
A soft, pained whimper escaped her dry, cracked lips and she stirred, her body finally cooperating with her will to move. Every movement was an excruciating mix of pleasure and pain.
It hurt, but at least she was alive.
“M...michael?,” she managed. Her eyes were still closed, she’d exhausted all of her energy on that one word.
Everything was starting to come back. The barbed wire massacre match at PDW’s Legendary. She couldn’t remember much of the match itself. There were tiny fragments that only hinted at the larger picture.
The blood.
Zack Lifer wrapping a length of barbed wire around her throat and choking her with it.
The chair to the head and everything spinning.
Beyond that, she couldn’t remember much. Maybe she didn’t want to. It had ended with her here, after all. She knew, had known, that she was in the hospital. She’d known that her chances of dying in that match were higher than any that she’d faced before. So to find herself breathing and above ground was something of a feat in and of itself.
When Syn spoke, his voice was a rasp. Hoarse and all but gone. “I’m here...”
Finally, Brytain’s eyes slowly opened. Her vivid blue eyes focusing and refocusing on his face. She felt a rush of emotion: relief, comfort and most of all love. She could see the emotions flickering over his face as he tried to hold them back and one of his hands found hers, taking it gently.
Her eyes slowly focused on his as she gripped his hand as tightly as she her weak grasp would allow. “Hey you...”
She tried for a smile, weakly mumbling, “Love you...”
He stared down at her, a single tear falling down his cheek as he hoarsely mumbled, “Love you more.”
Brytain’s hand was shaking and it took nearly all of her depleted energy to reach up to wipe the tear away. When she spoke, she could barely recognize her own voice. It was raspy and soft from the damage done to her throat from the barbed wire. “You... okay?”
Syn looked away, “Almost lost you...”
The hollow sound in his voice made something deep inside of her chest ache. “Stuck... with me...” she managed. “Can’t go yet.”
xxx
“This isn’t personal...”
Brytain smiled, her face still paler than usual and the color of her leather jacket turned up to hide the mess of bruises and stitched together wounds around her throat.
“This has nothing to do with Mya Denton. This is just... good fortune.” Her smile turned colder, more like a snarl. “If you want to blame anyone, Mya, blame The Powers That Be. This... match... was just a stroke of good luck. Something that fell into my lap and provided me with the opportunity to do what I’m going to do. To put Smith Jones’ back against the wall for a change.
Though, I wonder how much he truly cares about you since he was willing to sacrifice your safety and well being for his game.
This has nothing to do with whatever the hell is going on between with and Smithy, honestly. You seem to be under the mistaken conclusion that I care about your little dilemma. Your inability to be loyal to someone who gave you a year of his life. I don’t care.
But... your little tryst with Smith DID provide me with a bit of leverage, if you will. See, a man like Smith Jones doesn’t care about much. What could I possibly do to force his hand the way that he’s trying to force mine? Scuff his little white boots?
But when Smith let you in, he also gave me the one thing that I needed to push back. He gave me a weakness. And whether or not he knows it yet, that weakness is you. See, Smith is trying to call my bluff. He thinks that I won’t go through with whatever devious, dark thing that my black little heart has conjured up. He thinks that deep down, I am still a good person. A person who would never go out of her way to systematically destroy an ‘innocent’ person.
Though...” Brytain smirks, “You’re not really all that innocent, are you?
Smith thinks that something will hold me back. He thinks I’ll change my mind. He thinks that he made the right choice when he refused to take your place. He didn’t. And that’s unfortunate for you.
Because from now until Smith Jones agrees to take his goddamn shot, I will be the thing that exists only in your nightmares. I will dog your every step. I will take you apart piece by piece until all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t put you back together again.
So if you’re smart?
And you are a smart girl, aren’t you, Mya?
If you’re smart, you’ll get on your hands and knees and you’ll beg Smith Jones to get in the ring with me.”