Wasted

By: Ashlynn Cassidy

Writing Prompt: Yes

Date: 27th Dec 2021

Jennie fucking Fenix. Queens Championship. The loser belt. How did I fucking get here?

Ashlynn Cassidy had been invited to the private island of The Queen of FIGHT’s Manhattan division and The Faded Star for Christmas, but she was still in a real “Bah Humbug” mindset. How couldn’t she, when her last loss wasn’t her fault, and now she was in a loser’s belt match on FIGHT’s biggest stage to date. She’d also had a few drinks at this point, too. 

She’d excused herself a while ago from the rest of the houseguests, not wanting to be a Christmas bummer. She’d said she needed air. She sat outside, on a large rock, overlooking water. In her hand, she fiddled with a rustic notebook given to her by Tara Fenix. Of course, the sister of the person she was going to battle against at Countdown. Usually, writing stuff down would calm her down a bit. Not this time. This time, the gifter just reminded her of her circumstances. How all her effort this year was supposed to culminate in this event, this opening match. 

Was this the worst year I could’ve had? 

No.

But it still led me here.  

Ashlynn almost wanted to open the book and wrote in it, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. So instead, she stayed spaced out and in her own head. 

No. The first entry in a book should never be an angry one, sets the tone for the whole book. Also, not wasting the first pages on Jennie fucking Fenix, it’s already FROM her sister. 

Brandon Moore walked over, waving a hand in front of Ashlynn’s face, bringing her back down to Earth. She blinked a few times, smiling kindly. “Oh hey!” 

 

You looked kinda out of it. Why aren’t you having fun inside?

Yeah, because I got embarrassed, I lost. I’m tossed aside like a sideshow for weeks now. I’ve got a match folks would rather not be booked than be in. 

Yeah, well sorry. Still fuming, abd don’t wanna bring shit down with being all pissy and angry.

Brandon tilted his head a bit before cracking up. “You do know Austin’s like my brother, right? And I mean, anger isn’t something I like to discourage here. Don’t shy away from your rage…USE IT. Violence is a talent, anger is a gift. Let it lift you, let it set you free.

 

I came to FIGHT because I know that I am one of the best talents on the scene, I came to FIGHT to earn respect, and honestly? I almost feel like I’ve wasted my time with FIGHT?

Michelle Moore emerged out of the vacation home, catching the tail end of that line, brow raised “I mean, the only waste of time here has been you, sitting outside alone. Come on, get back inside.” The short blonde tried to tempt her friend with a joint, and it worked. 

Ashlynn rose, bringing her gift back in with her. Her face drunkenly red. 

Besides, hardly a waste, you’ve got wins over some of the biggest names on our roster, plus other ones. You’ve got only one real loss.” Michelle pointed out with a shrug. 

I didn’t mean it like that, not really. It’s more like… FIGHT wasted me? Or at least, they’ve taken me for granted. I get booked, and I show up, I deliver, I’ve always tried my best. I go out there, and I know I am a top talent. I perform and I prove it, every time. I’ve behaved, I’ve tried not to complain much. Staff will book me in whatever match, and I say ‘okay, thanks’. Like a beggar, it’s really pathetic if you think about it. My biggest regret in 2021? Expecting respect and letting myself be exploited. I’ve been so very well behaved! I took any opportunity they gave me. I never cared what it was. They said to jump, I asked how high. They said to dress up, I did that. Now? They put me up against a real yes woman in a match no one wants to be in. I asked around, those not booked? They’d rather stay unbooked. That is HUMILIATING! I never joined FIGHT because I was ‘just happy to be here’, that’s not me, that’s never been me. My name is meant to be one people remember. My name is meant to be one that carries weight. This match, one way or another is my last match…” 

Ashlynn found a drink on the counter and drank it. Michelle wasn’t fast enough to point out it was hers. Instead, she just questioned the Undeniable drunken rambler. 

Last match? You can’t quit-

…My last match where I didn’t give myself enough care. I’m done saying yes to everything. From now on, I will make sure my stardom is respected like it deserves. Ashlynn Cassidy isn’t a throwaway, I’m not going to be satisfied with just being on the show. My name on the card is gonna actually mean something. UNDENIABLE is going to mean something. My legacy isn’t going to be someone irrelevant, or forgettable. I’m someone you’re gonna HAVE TO pay attention to.  I matter, and history’s gonna say that. It’s gonna start with Jennie.” 

 

She giggled, sitting between the Moores. “You know what? Win, lose, draw, DQ, countout, stoppage, I don’t care. All I know is, there will be blood, and to start off 2022, no one’s gonna ignore me. I’m done being in the background, I’m done being the opening act. I’m THE story. I’m THE attraction.” 

 

Some time later…

 

Ashlynn must have blacked out shortly after that because she regained consciousness on one of the guest beds. 

What the…

She groaned, feeling something was stuck to her forehead. She peeled off the post-it note from her forehead and looked at it. 

You should watch your drinking. 

P.S. Bedside table

Ash was still groggy and confused, yet to come to her senses. She followed the note’s word and looked at the bedside table. 

On it was her gift from Tara, but the front cover was now pink. There was another post-it. 

Use your gifts, use your rage. – B

Put it in the book -M 

<3

When she peeled the note away, Ash saw in magazine cut-out, ransom note lettering, the front cover now read “Ash’s Burn Book”

Ash was touched by this, hugging the notebook to her chest. 

Now it’s a gift from them, and not Jennie’s sister. 

Now Ashlynn felt the urge to write, but what?

She opened the book to its first page and grabbed a pen. 

Well, IT IS a burn book…

_____
Dear Jennie, 

Maybe FIGHT thinks we’re alike. Maybe they think we’re the same. I promise you though, we’re not. 

You? You fight to get out of your sister’s shadow. Me? I fight because it’s all I have left. 

You say you want to be your own woman, but you’re one of, if not the most childish person older than me I’ve ever met. You need Ricky and Sahara to babysit you, I swear. Grow up. 

You might like Lego and video games, but I promise you, babygirl. When we face off? It’s not going to be playtime. I’m not about to placate your silliness. I don’t care for your childish charm like the majority do. It’s not going to be nice, or fun. You’re not going to be able to just laugh it off that easily. 

I know that you might think that if you try, work and hope REAL REAL hard you might finally win a match! You could win this fight! Here’s the thing, little Jennie, I’m not coming to just fight you, I’m coming to Countdown to HURT you. I’ve spent days, sulking, bargaining, and being annoyed at my circumstances. I hate how this match came about but I’ve come to terms with the fact I’m in this match with you. There’s no backing out now, so there’s only one option-show up. Show up, make an impact, make a statement. It won’t be personal, for the most part. Wins, losses, sometimes they’re hollow either way. I’ve lost matches I shouldn’t have, and won matches by default. The entire reason I’m in the spot I’m in was because of something out of my control. But that’s done. I’m done letting things happen around and to me. I MAKE SHIT HAPPEN NOW. 

I’m not like you at all. I’m not gonna smile, happy to be included. I’m not gonna beg for anything anymore. I’m not gonna beg for a place at the table, I’m done politely waiting my turn. I’m making space for me. Hell, I’ll even build my own chair, my own table if I need to. I’m done with begging for attention. Now? I TAKE the attention. I DEMAND the attention. 

Hate to break it to you, but I’m out for blood. 

The only one left begging will be you. For mercy, for it to stop, for me to be who I was before FIGHT! took me for granted. 

Some good friends reminded me to use my gifts, use my talents, and use what I have. I am going to do that against you, little Fenix. I’m going to use my hands, feet, limbs, ALL of my body to inflict pain on you, to beat you down. You’re not going to forget facingme unless I let you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll get a concussion so you won’t have to remember what all I’m going to do to you. I’m going to use all that frustration, all that anger that has built up over weeks and weeks, my entire time with FIGHT!. I’m going to use it, and you’re just going to be the unluckiest womanchild on the planet. 

When it’s over? When the New Year rolls around? Ashlynn Cassidy will be one of the hottest names in FIGHT! NYC

I gotta do what I gotta do. Blame Anicka. Blame FIGHT!.

Sincerely,
Unde-fucking-niable

Below, Ash drew a little face, eyes X-ed out, as if marking Jennie for execution. 

(X_X)
_____