Family secrets (Battle Royal)

[Mandii Rider]

"When did it start?"

"Roughly six months ago."

My hand tugged on Jason's arm as he lifted a leg outside of my bedroom window. The brisk night air blew in on my hot face cooling the warm tears streaming down my cheeks. "Don't leave me." My plea hung in my ridged throat. I was hoarse from screaming just minutes before and even at a whisper, my voice stung as though I had swallowed a thousand angry hornets.



"I'll be right back with someone who can help." He winced as he pulled his arm from my hand. The cuts on his arm were fresh and still seeping blood whenever he moved. Our father had once again decided to take out his anger on Jason and as always Jason took it knowing if he didn't the violence would be turned toward me. After finishing not one but two bottles of his favorite whiskey, our father rose from his chair in the living room and made his way directly to Jason who was sitting at the dining table eating Ramen. Our father pulled the chair with a force that caused Jason to lunge forward but before he could fall out of the chair our father grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up. I heard the chair crash against the wall just before hearing our father yell with such a rage that seemed to make the house shake.


I wish his drinking would just kill him.


"What did you say boy!?"



Had I missed what Jason said? Even when he would talk under his breath I was still able to hear him even from the kitchen. No, he hadn't said anything.



My body began to shake uncontrollably as I curled up into a ball on my bedroom floor. I heard glass shatter, wood hit the ground, and the sound of pots and pans hitting the counter before Jason's whimpers filled the air. My stomach was tied in knots knowing that because Jason made a nose in the midst of our father's anger it meant things were about to get much worse.



I heard rustling as if someone was looking for something in the kitchen drawers. Jason was once again silent but only for a moment. My body suddenly stopped shaking and my eyes opened as Jason's voice rang out. "I didn't say anything! Please put it back, put it back I didn't say anything! Please!" He had a petrified tone to his voice that caused me to spring to my feet and peak through a crack in my door.



I saw our mother in her usual spot on the couch watching TV pretending the horrors in her house weren't happening. I remember Jason saying she doesn't get involved because she was once in our place. I know better though; she liked it. Jason also told me about a time when he was her best friend, they did everything together, but that was when father was in the “hospital”. I never had a grace period like him, all I saw were monsters and I wished they were in my closet or under my bed…Maybe I’d have a chance to run away then.



I couldn't see much from my bedroom but I did see Jason backed into a corner looking as though he was staring death in the face. A backhand came from nowhere and I dropped to the ground, closing my eyes. I could hear our father drag Jason from the kitchen to the bathroom before a blood curdling scream reached my room followed by frantic crying. I tried to block out the sound by covering my ears to the noise but no matter what I did I could hear everything.



It felt like hours had passed and I laid still on the ground behind my door, my light off in hopes everyone would think I was sleeping. The door moved but only enough to tap my ribs. I looked up and saw Jason, a bloody dish rag wrapped around his arm. I moved enough for him to come into my room noticing the lights in the house were off just before he closed my door.



"I- I can't do this anymore."



He reeked of alcohol both the kind you drink as well as the kind for sterilization. I could see deep cuts on the upper part of his body, cuts that would have been hidden had his shirt not been stretched so much. He had small cuts along his arm aside from the one he was hiding under the dish cloth and deep black bruises were already becoming visible. I didn't say anything, just nodded and helped him pry open my window which had been sealed from paint and nails.



"And it only happens when you're sleeping?"

"No, it's not a dream, I'm never asleep.
I'm wide awake. I'm...Reliving it.
I'm there at that moment and I don't know anything other than what I'm living.
I don't even know that me, present me, exists.”

I watched him head into the woods and never come back. It wasn't the worst beating he'd experienced but it was his breaking point. Two years, I spent two years looking out of that window every night expecting someone, anyone, to come and help me. I didn't want to believe my older brother abandoned me but he was only nine at the time, he was a kid too.



"So you resent your brother for lying to you."

"No, how could I?"

"He left you there Mandii. It's ok to feel those feelings of abandonment and feel anger because of it."

"He left you."

“No, he was just-”

“It started with him.”

“Keep going.”



I endured so many nights of the same terror Jason did, however, there was one thing I had that Jason didn't. I was more desired by my father than Jason. I was a party favor, goods to be traded for monetary value, I had more of a purpose than Jason because I was a girl. Not only was I a punching bag for my father, I was a piece of candy for his friends to eat.



"So, you're only living the imperative times in your life?"

"No...I live...I relive it all. Every moment.
I can't pull myself out of it,
I can't control it,
I don't even know it's happening until it stops."

"How do you feel when it stops?"

"Terrified."

"Tired."

"Scared."

"Sad."

"Crazy."

I could taste iron in my mouth. I wonder if Jason ever laid on the ground and wondered if he was going to die. Did he ever wish he could die like me or am I just weak? Now I understood why he would come into my room smelling of alcohol, why he would hide the box cutter when no one was home, why he would hold his breath for long periods of time when he didn't have to. I knew because now I was being cut by the box cutter, I was having alcohol and salt poured and rubbed into my open wounds, I was being water boarded or drowned in the bathtub. I understood why Jason did so many things now...because I do them...because I feel like I have to survive. Even as I lay here my body covered in lacerations and in excruciating pain, wanting to be dead, I don't feel like I can actually just die.



I have to survive. There has to be something better than this.



Before I could finish another thought I felt the rough hand of my father on my leg once again. He snatched me up from my mattress on the floor mumbling the whole time. He flung my limp body over his shoulder and began walking toward the kitchen. Jason's words echoed in my head, "I can't do this anymore."



"No more..." I involuntarily mumbled under my breath. Two of his friends already did so much damage when he decided to do more. After once friend finished, my father slammed my body into the bath, washed me, then held me under for minutes before pulling me out. Once the second one was done he used the box cutter to open old wounds. After cutting, he pulled on either side of the wound causing my skin to rip. He told me I needed them washed and pour bourbon in them before lighting a cigarette and ashing in each wound then "cleaning" them once again.



"Shut up." His voice was a hum, no, he was humming. I heard the squeak of the basement door open and felt as he stepped down onto the top step. Another one of his favorite games, the basement. Physical torture became boring last year so my father decided to try something different. He wanted to see how long I could go without food, then water, then both. He started to lock me in the basement for days at a time, no light, no food, no water, just a chain that kept me locked in this dungeon. I was forced to think of the punishment that awaited me when my time here was over as well as the torture I had endured just before being locked away. The basement was a blessing and curse. At least I would have some time to recover, a moment to breathe, but I was also stuck with my thoughts.



My cuts would scab over and slowly heal at the corners.



The bubbles on my flesh from when my father would put hand sanitizer on my cuts and light it on fire would stop burning when touched.



My scalp would heal from where my hair was pulled out.



But I would be left here in the darkness, with my thoughts, and voices I knew weren't actually there.



Maybe that was part of the reason my father would lock me here. He would make me hear the same things he did. He wanted me to remember I was alone. He wanted to remind me that I’m like him.



“How do you believe you’re like your father?”

“I struggled…Struggle with addiction myself.
I used to hear things and see things that weren’t there.
I had anger issues for a while too.”

“And you’ve already addressed these things in therapy before.”

“Yes.”

I'd finally manage to find sleep just before the scream began. My eyes snapped open and before I knew it my body was pushed against the pole my restraints were locked to. I could smell smoke and now could hear the distinct difference between screams between my mother and father. My mother began begging and I could hear loud thuds going on right above me followed by garbled speech. Suddenly, the door opened and light eliminated the staircase in front of me. I coward down and held my hands over atop my head. I couldn't see his face but something about the way I was pulled up into this stranger's arms and almost cradled like a baby made me believe he was not only a man but someone who wasn't here to harm me.



I wrapped my arms around his neck as I was pulled off the ground. My whole body bounced with each step leading up to the kitchen. Smoke assaulted my nose like when my father would blow smoke in my mouth and force me to breathe. I began coughing, causing the man to sprint faster through the kitchen. Before we entered the living room, I could see my mother, her eyes wide open and face contorted in a disfiguring manner that caused me to clench my eyes close.



I hope he's dead too.



I knew we had made it out of the house because there was no longer heat on my face and the scent of smoke was replaced with pinecones. I opened my eyes and suddenly I was sitting in the passenger seat of a truck. The interior was lit by the flames that raged right behind the truck. The whole house had been engulfed and black smoke rose above the trees. Suddenly, the door opened to the driver side of the truck and an arm crossed over me grabbing the seat belt and buckling me in. I heard the tires of the truck pick up gravel as we sped off and relief swept over me like a warm blanket. I closed my eyes and finally felt like I could rest.



I am safe.



"Unfortunately our time is up but I would like to make another appointment if you are comfortable with that."

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Don’t tell."

“Family secrets.”

---

Endurance, it's one of the most necessary qualities to possess in a battle royal. In order to win, you have to battle it out with many opponents all at the same time. It takes a lot of stamina and drive in order to make it to the end. You have two choices, either you use that endurance and stamina to avoid every opponent that comes your way like the plague, or you put everything into your ability in hopes to eliminate as many competitors as possible.

I walk into view, the foundation of a house behind me; merely exposed wooden pillars and cement. The sun shines down through the treetops and birds can be heard singing a melody in the background.

WillPower, another necessary quality. Even in times where it seems like hope is lost and you are about to be eliminated you have to pull from deep down and find a way to get out of any predicament. You may have the drive to win but do you have the willpower to accomplish the task? Drive dies out, there will come a point in time that you decide the discomfort, the pain isn't worth it and you'll want to give up. Drive doesn't get you though those times, will does.

Strategy, tactics, these are necessary in almost every match because when you enter the ring you don't want to burn out in a matter of minutes working harder rather than smarter. Like I mentioned earlier when it comes to endurance you have two options, either you burn yourself out eliminating as many competitors as possible in as short of a time period as possible, or you let everyone else do the heavy lifting and sweep up the winnings. Both of the options are tactics I've seen many people use, they either want bragging rights because they dropped the most bodies or they simply want the win with little to no effort put into it. Strategy is the difference between these two polar opposites, it's also what makes you a future champion and someone worthy of being on top. Strategy takes talent, it takes experience, and above all else it takes time to learn.

I run my hand down one of the pillars of the house with a smirk.

And of course the foundation of not only a battle royal but any match is strength. If you have no strength you're just building your career on a foundation that will crumble. Physical strength is necessary but you also have to have mental strength. Wrestling in general is a sport that doesn't start on the "field", it starts the moment someone opens their mouth. We rip into each other, tear each other down to absolutely nothing before we ever enter the ring. We play mind games with each other, we tell our opponent that they can't cut it, they'll never win. We make our opponents second guess themselves and ruin any image that they've managed to build for themselves. It's a misconception that all the shit talk is only to hype up the fans, to get people to watch. All this talk, it's our first line of attack. If you aren't mentally strong you will second guess yourself, you will question your moves in the ring, and you will lose. As for physical strength, well, you can make up for the lack of that with strategy but that will only take you so far. I've met many wrestlers who have minimum strength and have relied solely on strategy in the ring; usually tiring out their opponent so they can get one good hit in and win. However, those wrestlers don't make it long because all it takes is one good hit, one move landed perfectly, to take them out.

I give the bones of this house a quick glance.

When you put all of this together you build your "house," your career. If you really want to make something of yourself, if you really want to win and be someone that others not only respect but fear in the ring, you can't half ass any one of these areas. A weak foundation will cause everything to collapse. Weak walls won't withstand the storm. A mediocre roof will crumble under any amount of pressure.

I speak with a smile.

Which is why I decided to join the Open Invitational Battle Royale. I don't expect respect off the bat nor do I expect anyone to look at me as anything more than a newcomer. Every company I've ever joined, whether I'm known or not, I work for my place at the top, I prove myself and give everyone a reason to look up to me. I start with a firm foundation.

I've worked on my endurance throughout my whole career, pushing myself to my limits and knowing when to cross them. My drive isn't winning, the rush of dopamine is fleeting when it comes to winning because the more you win the more you expect it and it becomes your "normal". My drive is seeing how far I can go without breaking, seeing what I can improve at and seeing that improvement week after week in my matches. Which is why this battle royal is perfect as a comeback match from a two year hiatus. Not only is it a way to prove myself but also a way to test my endurance and get an idea of the competition here.

My drive to be better, to earn respect, is what pushed me toward this match but my will power is what will get me over the finish line with a win. Considering this battle royal is an open invitation it means anyone can join meaning each of us is kinda on the losing end. We don't know how many competitors there will be nor do we know who they will be. I'd say I'm lower on this win/losing scale considering I've only faced one person on this roster and know only two individuals' abilities. However, when the worst comes to worst I will pull everything out of me. Even if I’m dangling off the top rope it's going to take a lot to force my feet to touch outside of the ring. I’ll build walls strong enough to withstand any storm.

I'm confident in my ability, always have been. I've always been someone who doesn't take the easy way but I also don't choose to walk through hell when it isn't necessary. I'm a mix of strategic and strength. I will wear anyone down who stands in the opposite corner as me and make it look like a fun game. I'll play with you mentally and physically until I come out on top. There's a reason Jenny wants me on her side even after all the history we have together, why originally she wanted to rip me down to absolutely nothing when I first arrived here before I could step foot in a match. I'm the impediment of brains and brawn. Crumbling under pressure isn’t what I do, my roof is sturdy.

I shrug.

With all this said, I don't care what prize is at the end of this match. What I care about is continuing to build onto my career. What I care about is proving I'm going to be one of the next biggest names here in OCW.