Post by Mia Stone on Mar 5, 2014 17:33:20 GMT -5
“You hear what I'm saying Mia? No more trouble.”
I nodded, but from the distant look in my eyes its was clear that while the lights were on, there was no one at home.
“Staying around these parts is no longer possible for you I am afraid, but you have to keep a low profile until we can secure your place...”
“Whatever.”
I smirked, I was a 17 year old, cocky little twat and if I knew then what I knew now, I might not have been so dismissive of the help that was placed before me. Janet was what you might call a social worker and somewhat of a foster carer, someone specially picked out to try and get inside the troubled mind of the youth living it tough on the mean streets of London. Hand picked, it seemed, for her straight laced life, her lack of clothing style and her penchant for coffee that smelt like tuna.
What Janet was, was a pain in my arse.
“No Mia, not whatever, this attitude of yours is what got you into this mess. I am your best hope out of here alive and you have the option now to walk away today and start again, or spend the rest of your life acting like the tough guy. The choice is yours but you won't be given this chance again.”
I smiled and even though my back was turned, Janet knew me well enough to know I was grinning like a Cheshire cat from eat to ear.
“Tough guy it is then.”
It sadly wasn't that easy, as I pretended to be deep in thought staring aimlessly out of the window. The scraping of a chair across the hard floor echoed around the otherwise empty room and the door behind me clicked shut. My head shot round and a look of disbelief crept across my face. I could hear hushed voices talking just outside the room, but it was the type of whisper that every word reverberates round your head and it was inevitable that a move wasn't a choice I was able to make. This was out of my hands, I was going away and however hard I tried, I doubt I was going to wake up anywhere near London.
….
…......
The years had been unkind to Janet, her wrinkles now deeply inset into her forehead and her tiny frame carried a heavy weight. She shuffled over to a table and sighed heavily as she sat down. As I sat at the bar I didn't even need to turn around to see the sheer look of disappointment and desperation on her face, I could see everything I needed to from the mirrors that reflected the highly priced spirits that adorned the back bar.
Sitting there for what seemed like hours I decided to bite the bullet. When I finally mustered up the courage to head over and sit down she shot me a look, that made it clear I was in trouble.
“Really Mia?”
Her eyes burnt a hole through my head as she stared at me intently. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her, part shame, part dread. It might have been years since she last gave me a bollocking but this was going to be in a league of its own.
“Under the raidar, keeping a low profile...”
She continued and waved a piece of paper in front of my face as she spoke before crushing it and pushing it into my hand. All communication from her today was through firmly gritted teeth. It was fair to say she was pretty cross and wasn't in any mood for excuses.
“You know the searches that happen on your name by the police, happen daily. You also know that fighting is what got you into this mess in the first place...you know that...”
“I...”
“You nothing Mia! You know that if you decide to pursue this, that there is no going back. This is it, they will not continue to help you and I can not stand by and support this.”
I nodded. She meant every word and I knew that by making the choice to fight again I was walking away from what little excuse was left of my childhood.
“What were you even thinking?”
I think that was the point. I wasn't thinking. I had been back training with the boxing and MMA team for sometime and had caught the bug again. I began searching for somewhere I could settle down, a place I could really call home and there it was the OCW, a perfect place to start my career as a total unknown, with no expectations or boundaries holding me down.
But seeing it in black and white print, it quickly became a lot more real and no longer a fantasy. Suddenly my life was going to be available for everyone to see and the world and his wife to comment on.
For a second as we sat there in silence, I began to question myself, was this really what I wanted? Would I really be able to do this?
“I am sorry.”
It was all I could muster up. If you imagine a time you really let someone down either intentionally or otherwise and you see their face, its less disappointment and more like a crushing heartache that however hard they try they are unable to hide...this was one of those times.
I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I wanted to make a name for myself more than anything, but it came at a very expensive price. My phone began to beep and I pulled it out of my jacket pocket switching it to silent, I quickly glanced at the message that had popped up.
*Internet title fight, Royal Rumble style. Carey, Fuller, Laree, Syren...*
I didn't get chance to finish reading it because Janet had clocked on to what I was doing.
“Put the phone away Mia.”
Nodding I reluctantly placed the phone face down on the table. It was fair to say I didn't have a clue who any of these people in the royal rumble were and frankly I wasn't that bothered. It was always the same when you were the new kid in town, you had the choice of spending hours pretending to actually give a shit and reading up on people, watching past matches, changing their wikipedia entries to make them look stupid. Or you could ignore all the hype and just go in and do what you are paid to do...kick the fuck out of 9 other people who in a few weeks time will be nothing more than names once associated with the OCW. Plus more than anything I could probably already stereotype the others in the match. You could put a fairly decent amount of money on the fact that you would certainly have, the mental one, the fan favourite, the new guy, the veteran, the beauty, the bitch, the baby, the spoilt brat, the sore loser, the unknown, the what was the point in even turning up guy and of course the winner.
A Royal Rumble was always a firm favourite of mine, it meant that you constantly had to be on your guard. It was a time when enemies would put aside differences and work together, it was full of double crossings, exaggerated handshakes and fake smiles...and I loved it. Having nothing to lose and everything to gain this was the perfect opportunity for me to surprise and wipe out each opponent one at a time.
I was as determined as I could be that this was the start of something special and only a few minor obstacles stood in my way.
“We need to talk about this.”
Janet broke the silence, she was visibly hurt by my attitude, but sometimes its a hell of a lot easier to push people away, to make the abandonment less painful on all sides. I didn't want to cause unnecessary upset but I couldn't allow myself to be held back by the dead weight of an over emotional former life. I wasn't the person I once was and the more we spoke the clearer it became.
The world we live in is not full of sweetness and light like many would like to believe. The demons that plague each and everyone of us are exactly the same demons that push us further, that taunt us inside where no one else can hear. The same monsters that ensure we never give in. And almost right there and then my mind was made up.
“No, I think we are about done.”
My patience was running thin and I suddenly found myself preoccupied with my first match. Truth be known I wasn't even that fussed who I faced, I was all about making an impact and cementing my name with the wow factor. I want to be the one you hate, but the one you secretly cheer when they win. I want to be booed when your favourite is loosing but congratulated when I haven't left them in the middle of the ring for dead. I want to be the greatest champion of all time and I know exactly what I needed to do to make this happen.
“You know what Mia, fine. I can see you aren't remotely interested. If this is what you want, then please yourself, but don't expect me to pick up the pieces when you are left with nothing.”
She stood up from her chair and hurriedly began to grab her coat and bag as she visibly fought back the tears. Without even realising my arm shot out, grabbing her I held onto her wrist tightly. The pain shot across her face as I squeezed. She winced and begged me to stop but I didn't.
“Please Mia, let go.”
She pleaded as she frantically tried to free her arm. Her face was becoming red and contorted and we were beginning to create a bit of commotion. I stood up leaning over the table until we were face to face.
“Sit down.”
I whispered through gritted teeth.
Reluctantly she did and as she flopped back into the chair, I released my grip. She instantly cradled her arm rubbing her now red wrist and her next words left her mouth dripping with venom.
“You are just like your mother...”
I nodded, but from the distant look in my eyes its was clear that while the lights were on, there was no one at home.
“Staying around these parts is no longer possible for you I am afraid, but you have to keep a low profile until we can secure your place...”
“Whatever.”
I smirked, I was a 17 year old, cocky little twat and if I knew then what I knew now, I might not have been so dismissive of the help that was placed before me. Janet was what you might call a social worker and somewhat of a foster carer, someone specially picked out to try and get inside the troubled mind of the youth living it tough on the mean streets of London. Hand picked, it seemed, for her straight laced life, her lack of clothing style and her penchant for coffee that smelt like tuna.
What Janet was, was a pain in my arse.
“No Mia, not whatever, this attitude of yours is what got you into this mess. I am your best hope out of here alive and you have the option now to walk away today and start again, or spend the rest of your life acting like the tough guy. The choice is yours but you won't be given this chance again.”
I smiled and even though my back was turned, Janet knew me well enough to know I was grinning like a Cheshire cat from eat to ear.
“Tough guy it is then.”
It sadly wasn't that easy, as I pretended to be deep in thought staring aimlessly out of the window. The scraping of a chair across the hard floor echoed around the otherwise empty room and the door behind me clicked shut. My head shot round and a look of disbelief crept across my face. I could hear hushed voices talking just outside the room, but it was the type of whisper that every word reverberates round your head and it was inevitable that a move wasn't a choice I was able to make. This was out of my hands, I was going away and however hard I tried, I doubt I was going to wake up anywhere near London.
….
…......
The years had been unkind to Janet, her wrinkles now deeply inset into her forehead and her tiny frame carried a heavy weight. She shuffled over to a table and sighed heavily as she sat down. As I sat at the bar I didn't even need to turn around to see the sheer look of disappointment and desperation on her face, I could see everything I needed to from the mirrors that reflected the highly priced spirits that adorned the back bar.
Sitting there for what seemed like hours I decided to bite the bullet. When I finally mustered up the courage to head over and sit down she shot me a look, that made it clear I was in trouble.
“Really Mia?”
Her eyes burnt a hole through my head as she stared at me intently. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her, part shame, part dread. It might have been years since she last gave me a bollocking but this was going to be in a league of its own.
“Under the raidar, keeping a low profile...”
She continued and waved a piece of paper in front of my face as she spoke before crushing it and pushing it into my hand. All communication from her today was through firmly gritted teeth. It was fair to say she was pretty cross and wasn't in any mood for excuses.
“You know the searches that happen on your name by the police, happen daily. You also know that fighting is what got you into this mess in the first place...you know that...”
“I...”
“You nothing Mia! You know that if you decide to pursue this, that there is no going back. This is it, they will not continue to help you and I can not stand by and support this.”
I nodded. She meant every word and I knew that by making the choice to fight again I was walking away from what little excuse was left of my childhood.
“What were you even thinking?”
I think that was the point. I wasn't thinking. I had been back training with the boxing and MMA team for sometime and had caught the bug again. I began searching for somewhere I could settle down, a place I could really call home and there it was the OCW, a perfect place to start my career as a total unknown, with no expectations or boundaries holding me down.
But seeing it in black and white print, it quickly became a lot more real and no longer a fantasy. Suddenly my life was going to be available for everyone to see and the world and his wife to comment on.
For a second as we sat there in silence, I began to question myself, was this really what I wanted? Would I really be able to do this?
“I am sorry.”
It was all I could muster up. If you imagine a time you really let someone down either intentionally or otherwise and you see their face, its less disappointment and more like a crushing heartache that however hard they try they are unable to hide...this was one of those times.
I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I wanted to make a name for myself more than anything, but it came at a very expensive price. My phone began to beep and I pulled it out of my jacket pocket switching it to silent, I quickly glanced at the message that had popped up.
*Internet title fight, Royal Rumble style. Carey, Fuller, Laree, Syren...*
I didn't get chance to finish reading it because Janet had clocked on to what I was doing.
“Put the phone away Mia.”
Nodding I reluctantly placed the phone face down on the table. It was fair to say I didn't have a clue who any of these people in the royal rumble were and frankly I wasn't that bothered. It was always the same when you were the new kid in town, you had the choice of spending hours pretending to actually give a shit and reading up on people, watching past matches, changing their wikipedia entries to make them look stupid. Or you could ignore all the hype and just go in and do what you are paid to do...kick the fuck out of 9 other people who in a few weeks time will be nothing more than names once associated with the OCW. Plus more than anything I could probably already stereotype the others in the match. You could put a fairly decent amount of money on the fact that you would certainly have, the mental one, the fan favourite, the new guy, the veteran, the beauty, the bitch, the baby, the spoilt brat, the sore loser, the unknown, the what was the point in even turning up guy and of course the winner.
A Royal Rumble was always a firm favourite of mine, it meant that you constantly had to be on your guard. It was a time when enemies would put aside differences and work together, it was full of double crossings, exaggerated handshakes and fake smiles...and I loved it. Having nothing to lose and everything to gain this was the perfect opportunity for me to surprise and wipe out each opponent one at a time.
I was as determined as I could be that this was the start of something special and only a few minor obstacles stood in my way.
“We need to talk about this.”
Janet broke the silence, she was visibly hurt by my attitude, but sometimes its a hell of a lot easier to push people away, to make the abandonment less painful on all sides. I didn't want to cause unnecessary upset but I couldn't allow myself to be held back by the dead weight of an over emotional former life. I wasn't the person I once was and the more we spoke the clearer it became.
The world we live in is not full of sweetness and light like many would like to believe. The demons that plague each and everyone of us are exactly the same demons that push us further, that taunt us inside where no one else can hear. The same monsters that ensure we never give in. And almost right there and then my mind was made up.
“No, I think we are about done.”
My patience was running thin and I suddenly found myself preoccupied with my first match. Truth be known I wasn't even that fussed who I faced, I was all about making an impact and cementing my name with the wow factor. I want to be the one you hate, but the one you secretly cheer when they win. I want to be booed when your favourite is loosing but congratulated when I haven't left them in the middle of the ring for dead. I want to be the greatest champion of all time and I know exactly what I needed to do to make this happen.
“You know what Mia, fine. I can see you aren't remotely interested. If this is what you want, then please yourself, but don't expect me to pick up the pieces when you are left with nothing.”
She stood up from her chair and hurriedly began to grab her coat and bag as she visibly fought back the tears. Without even realising my arm shot out, grabbing her I held onto her wrist tightly. The pain shot across her face as I squeezed. She winced and begged me to stop but I didn't.
“Please Mia, let go.”
She pleaded as she frantically tried to free her arm. Her face was becoming red and contorted and we were beginning to create a bit of commotion. I stood up leaning over the table until we were face to face.
“Sit down.”
I whispered through gritted teeth.
Reluctantly she did and as she flopped back into the chair, I released my grip. She instantly cradled her arm rubbing her now red wrist and her next words left her mouth dripping with venom.
“You are just like your mother...”