The Secret

By: Ophelia Pain

Date: 6th Aug 2021

I stared at the black floor, knowing that I only had cheers of ‘you’ll get ’em next time, Pheelz!’ surrounding me…I’d see LC standing in the crowd with a half smile, but unable to hide the pity in his eyes for me. That look is what would kill me…

I rolled back under the bottom rope into the ring and grasped Kasey’s arm, raising it into the air, yelling my pride and excitement for her win, all the while listening to Murder screaming the confirmation that I’m a piece of shit loser. A lump formed in my throat when I accidentally caught LC’s face out of the corner of my eye, indeed with a proudful smile that barely hid the pity…I fell to the ring floor and rolled out to let Kasey have her moment, starting back towards the locker rooms…

When I pushed open the door, I hastily turned and locked the door behind me…

Would you kindly shut the fuck up?!

Are you fucking kidding me?! You lost and you make yourself look like a fucking doormat by parading around the ring holding the person who beat you’s hand in the air?!

It’s called sportsmanship, dick…

It’s called being a pussy! God! You really are fucking pathetic!

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my breathing and keep myself from breaking down…part of my agreed with her, but the other part of me made me so angry that I just can’t put myself first…

Why can’t I just be selfish?!

I’ve struggled as a people pleaser my whole life…I was afraid to do or say something that would change someone’s opinion of me. I’ve tried over and over to stop caring about what people thought of me and who people think I am, but at some point I always give up…I wished people could admire me for my heart, but there will always be someone telling you that you’re not good enough. Unfortunately, it’s usually myself to myself…

You’re goddamned right! Sometimes you need to be reminded that you do indeed, fucking suck at life…

Sometimes…not every morning when I wake up…or while I’m showering…or eating…or resting…or training…

Its called motivation….

It’s called being a dickhead…

Look…YOU created me…YOU needed ME…not the other way around…did you ever think that maybe you should just trust me?

If I trusted everything that came out of your mouth, I would have put a bullet in my head a long fucking time ago…

That probably would have been best for everyone…

I started the shower and got naked, catching a glimpse of my body, bruises starting to form in random spots…I stared at myself for a while until I was brought out of my daze by knocking on the door, followed by LC’s voice asking to come in…I didn’t want to answer…I didn’t want to see him…

I mean…I do want to see him, but I don’t think I could handle the “you’ll get ’em next time babe” pep talk…I was so afraid to see disappointment in his eyes…what if he thought I had let him down? That he made a mistake choosing me?…What if, after tonight, he asked me to go back to Tennesee and I never saw him again?

Thats part of your problem, you’re so worried about other people…You’re afraid to upset anyone because you don’t want them to leave…you expect everyone to treat you the way you treat them and thats not realistic…this ain’t Candyland, Ophelia so why are you surprised when the real world kicks you right in the balls?!

I just-

You just what?! You just want people to like you?! Grow! The fuck! Up!! You want to prove to the world that you are worthy of being a winner…a role model…someone to look up to…but you’re not willing to step on anyone’s toes to get the things you want out of life!

WHY?!

Because you don’t to hurt their fwagile wittwe feewings?! Stop being so disgustingly pathetic and get your head out of your annoyingly perky ass! No! One! Else! Cares! About! You! They keep you around until they don’t need you anymore and then they’re gone…the use you to boost themselves up because you’re an easy target! You’re quick to trust, you’re quick to open up, and you’re easy to beat because of that…

I grabbed my hair on the sides of my head, desperately trying to quiet the onslaught of insults being slung at me…I felt my nails break the skin and burning pain of my own hair separating from their follicles. I felt tears falling hot on my cheeks as the sobs came hard…

I felt so stupid. I didn’t want anyone to think that I was throwing a tantrum about losing…this was so much more than that. I heard rhythmic pounding on the door while LC was pleading for me to let him in…but I could barely hear him over my own anguish…

Murder was right…I wanted to be recognized for my tenacity and strength and my drive to win, but how the fuck was I going to show that to anyone those things if I was so worried about everyone else? The only thing that should matter to me should be me…the only person whose happiness should matter…should be mine…

The banging was louder…it sounded like he was trying to bust through the door…I figured getting a bill for a broken metal door and a hospital bill PLUS fucking up his matches coming up by letting him break his shoulder because I didn’t want him to see me so broken…I turned the water off and wrapped myself in a towel, and unlocked the door, just in time for him to throw his shoulder into the door one more time…

He crashed through the door into me and we fell to the floor, knocking the wind out of me…I gasped for air and he hurriedly got off of me and pulled me to my feet…

I think one of my ribs is broken…

Thats what happens when you’re boyfriend is a fuckin idiot…

Would you just shut the fuck up for 10 goddamned seconds?!

Baby what did you do to yourself?!

I can only assume he was referencing the blood dripping down the sides of my face and the clumps of hair in my hands…the look on his face was worse than I had pictured it in my mind…he looked genuinely fearful at what I was capable of doing to myself.

Remember when I told you I was crazy?

O…

Don’t…I don’t need pity…I don’t need sympathy…I don’t need any similar adjectives to those words…I need you to tell me that I sucked ass tonight and I need to do better…I need to do better because its embarrassing to have such a loser girlfriend…

What the fuck would make you think that’s something that would cross my mind about you? Babe…I love you-

But HOW?! How can you love me when I can’t lose without coming apart at the fucking seams?! How can you love me when I can’t even admit how badly I wanted to win because I don’t want to hurt Kasey’s feelings?! How can you love someone who is just such a pathetic fucking loser?!

Stop it!! I don’t know what Murder is telling you, but none of that shit is true!

You don’t need to worry about what I’m telling her because if you cared about her, you’d take your ass out of the equation…

Shut the fuck up, Murder!

Before I knew what was happening, I had thrown my fist at the floor in frustration, feeling my knuckles shatter under the pressure of the connection. I wanted so badly to be angry at someone other than my own stupidity…Murder was cackling in my head as I held the maraca that was now connected to my wrist…I looked up at LC who looked incredibly concerned at me…

……y-you okay?

No babe…I’m pretty fuckin far from okay…can you help me to the infirmary please?

He nodded and scooped me up immediately…

Babe?

Yeah?

Can I put some panties on first?

Oh…shit right…yeah…

After he helped me get dressed, I let him carry me to the infirmary. Once I had gotten taken care of, I said to hell with my gear and ordered an Uber. We headed directly to the airport, just wanting to get the fuck out of town, we hopped on the first First Class seats we could. Once we had taken off, I cuddled up to him and fell into a very uneasy sleep…

——————————————————————————————————————-

I had always had a very hard time understanding why I am the way that I am…and Murder is right…I’m afraid to be alone…I’m afraid to fight for what I want because in the back of my mind, someone is always going to be more deserving…someone else is willing to fight harder or be nastier…why can’t I be like that?

Why can’t I be more like Noelle? A ruthless cut throat bitch that doesn’t give two fucks about how her bad attitude is received by those around her? The kind of woman who has to try so fucking hard to seem so fucking mean and cruel to cover that she’s probably the same as every short girl in this sport? Out of respect for Vin and Vhodka, who I understand aren’t her real parents because neither of them are as short and squat as she is, I won’t comment on how this gremlin’s parents must feel about her. Typically, I’ve come to understand that the shorter the woman, the feistier she tries to be….but luckily for me, my wing span is longer than she is tall…all I have to do is make sure I get my hand on her forehead and hold her there while she swings wildly at me…

So maybe I don’t want to be like her…I can’t imagine what the world looks like from that close to the ground…and I don’t want to…I may over compensate with my kindness for who I used to be, but I don’t think that I have to try quite as hard to convince people that I’m a badass…I may be off my game in the ring lately, but as far as the other aspects of my life are concerned, I’m doing pretty fucking well…so nah…I don’t really wanna be like Noelle…I don’t even think Noelle wants to be like Noelle…

Plus…at least I’m not getting my panties stolen by a latchkey kid with nothing better to do than ride his adoptive parents coat tails…

So why not Valkyrie? You know…the woman that…

The one that…..uhm….

Who is Valkyrie? Her first match after Blood Money, she couldn’t even show up for so I stepped in for her…then her redemption match against Ricky Rodriguez left her looking just…silly…she busted down the ramp hellbent for election and got her ass handed to her…

Now…I don’t have much room to talk, but at least there was a little bit of competition between Kasey and I…Ricky made quick work of the “blood thirsty psycho” wannabe…I know psycho…I know blood thirsty…and sweetie…you ain’t either…stick with what you know…bad hair cuts and copping out of matches…

Maybe I don’t want to be like anyone else…maybe I just need to learn that I’m not perfect…I’ll never be perfect and that’s fine…because things could definitely be worse…and from where I’m standing…things are pretty good around me…

I have a man that adores me…I’m motivated to accept the things I like about me and change the things I don’t…starting with not really giving two shits about whether or not people like me anymore…If I want them to like me, they’ll like me because of me…not because of who I have to try to convince them I am…

Did I just discover the secret to not giving a fuck? I think I might have…