Post by Eden Morgan on Mar 12, 2014 3:02:56 GMT -5
I can't think. When I try, there's just a fog. I can't get through it. I just sit down in it. I let it roll over me. It chokes me at first. Is this how I'm going to die? Wrapped in an unfeeling blanket of nothing? Choking on that same nothing?
And then I draw another breath.
And another.
And another.
I'm almost disappointed. I don't want to die. But it's an end. And endings are nice.
Safe.
Final.
There hasn't been an end in sight for as long as I can remember.
And I remember everything now.
“Eden...”
The quiet, questioning way in which her name leaves the lips of Ryan Hanneman is odd. Out of place. He's usually so brash, obnoxious, loud, yet now he seems almost... cautious. Tentative. An image of Ryan tiptoeing around her, the apartment echoing with silence, jumps to the forefront of her mind, causing her to giggle.
Hanneman stands in the kitchen, watching the small figure on the sofa that seems to take up even less space than she usually does, almost as if there's less of her and somehow... more. Her presence fills the apartment like a quiet storm just roiling away, in those moments when you look up at the sky and you can see the downfall imminent, but it never seems to drop. It just hangs there, waiting, causing anxiety in anyone near it. Every now and then a blinding flash of lightning jolts the senses, the ozone raising the hair on your arm in acknowledgment.
That giggle had been like that flash of lightning. Normally a joyous sound, but this time... Ryan approaches the couch, holding a phone out to her.
“It's Jet again.”
Eden just shakes her head.
“I've said all I want to say to him. When that changes... he'll be the first to know.”
Ryan raises the phone back to his ear.
“You heard her? Alright. I'll tell her.” He hangs up, placing the phone back down on the counter.
“Edie, Jet asked me to tell you--” he begins, stopping when Eden gets to her feet, her movements far too smooth and controlled as she tucks her new crutches beneath her arms. When she doesn't say anything, he continues.
“-- he needs to talk to you. Please. The 'please' was from... him...” he trails off as she stops at the entry to the hallway, fixing those blue eyes on him, almost forgetting how to breathe for a moment. There was a cold beauty to them, and something else... but those eyes didn't belong in her face.
“I already gave him Dragon's message. What more could he possibly want?” she muses almost to herself, the monotone of her voice eerie. Before Ryan can respond, she turns away, making her way down the hall to her bedroom.
I gave him the Dragon's message. Even though he didn't leave me an actual message. He talked of messages. Asked if I could give one. I could. I can. I did. With everyone swarming around us. So many hands, pushing and pulling. So many angry voices. There almost wasn't air for it. And then there was. He was there. Jet. Right in front of me. I studied his face first. Anguish. Panic. Guilt. Anger. I literally counted his pulse as it pounded at his throat.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
More angry voices. Words. Not from him. Someone behind me. Tried to pull me away. But I had a message to give. And I gave it.
You caused this.
“I'm having you taken out of the Melee.”
“No.”
Jase raises his head, his pen poised over the paper, ready to sign his name.
“Edie, be reasonable, you can't compete in the shape you're in, physically or mentally--”
“No.”
Jase gives her a reassuring smile.
“You're not thinking clearly. I'll just take care of it, sign this, and you'll have two weeks off to recuperate.”
“No.”
Jase's jaw sets as he looks away from the woman who had yet to actually look at him, all while giving him one-word answers, typically of the negative variety. He glances at the man standing off to the side, Colin looking from him to Eden, his arms crossed over his chest. Finally, Colin speaks up.
“Eden, if you compete in the Melee, it could be detrimental to your long-term health. That's not what you want, and if you do then you're quite obviously not thinking in a clear manner. That's fine, no one expects you to be, not after everything you've been through tonight. But for now, just listen. It's best, kiddo.”
A pause of silence, Jase exhaling heavily and turning back to the paper to sign it.
“I'll be in that ring... whether you sign or not.”
Jase lowers his pen again, looking at her incredulously.
“What did you say?”
Another pause of silence.
“A piece of paper won't keep me out.”
Jase runs a hand over his face, rising from his chair and moving in front of her.
“Eden, look at me. Look at me!” he says forcefully, Colin moving a step away from the wall in warning. Jase looks at him in acknowledgment, lowering his voice again.
“Sweetheart, you can't do this. It's too much, even for you. Barring everything else, your knee alone--” he stops as Eden finally looks at him, Jase taking in a sharp breath.
“I can. And I will,” she says carefully. Colin shakes his head, Jase unable to tear his eyes away from hers. He simply nods.
You caused this.
That was Dragon's message. He meant it. I meant it. Jet Somers is guilty. Travis Pierce is guilty. Cypress Morgan is guilty. Jezebel Saint is guilty. Chaos is guilty. Klaus vonKnorre. Raenius. Gian Jones. Jason Ingalls. Harley Addams.
Every. One. Of. Them. Is. Guilty. Their hands are not clean. Not even by association.
But especially Jet. Cypress. Jezebel.
They insisted. They pushed. And pushed. Damn the consequences. Damn the toll others would pay. As if they had the right. His pain would ease the insult. Never enough. Just a little more.
Erika Langford.
Jordan King.
Marek.
Norman.
Mark is only the latest. He was a victim before. I caused that. I did that. I pushed. Damn the consequences. Damn the toll others would pay. Like I had the right. His pain would ease the insult done me. Never enough. Just a little more.
I caused this. Just like he did.
The water was hot, as hot as it could get without pain and it still wasn't hot enough. She didn't think it ever would be, nothing could possibly wash away the feel of his hands on her. His hot, eager breath on her neck, his lips running over and catching on the skin in the hollow there. He hadn't actually touched anything, and yet she felt completely and utterly violated. This was beyond any of the mind games Zane had performed. Deep down, she had always felt it was a game with him. With Brady... it wasn't a game. This was him.
She reaches behind her, turning the cold water all the way off, steam rising up immediately as the heat pelts over her normally fair skin, already an angry red. She inhales deeply, closing her eyes for a moment as she forces herself to stay in place, taking the heat. For the fourth time she squeezes a good bit of liquid soap into a fluffy loofah, watching it drip from the bottle with an almost rapt fascination. She rubs the purple netting togther until suds form, sliding it over her body and scrubbing. Hard. Harder. The skin that was already so red becomes even moreso, more sensitive. Eden's eyes take on a faraway cast as she continues to scrub.
She had thought Spyder being there was a hallucination. She hadn't remembered Zane. Still didn't. From the time Brady had released her she had gone into shutdown mode... and it disgusted her. She was weak.
Too weak to stop him.
Too weak to stop Dragon.
Too weak to let it go.
Too weak to get off her crutches.
Pain eats through her thoughts and the numbness, a distant burning setting in. Glancing down, peering through the steam, she notices pink swirling with the soapy water. The stinging at her shoulder grows a little more and she pulls her hand away, tinged with red. The hollow of her neck raw where she had rubbed it over and over, the extreme heat of the water beating down. She touches her hands to the area again, staring almost incoherently at her own blood before collapsing to the floor of the shower, sobs racking her body as she curls in on herself.
Massive Melee last year. I wanted to win. I never actually thought I would. I just wanted to prove everyone wrong. One elimination. Two. Namely Ezekiel Pax and Marek Daisuke.
A year later. Marek's dead. At the hands of Ezekiel. And Dragon.
Last year. The best strategy I could come up with. Use Mark Reznik's attraction to me. No one guessed I'd go on to win.
No one guessed Jet would force my hand. No one guessed the always smiling sweetheart had teeth and claws.
Mark learned the hard way. Jet learned the hard way.
A year later. Mark's gone. Dragon has him. He tried to help me. Look where it got him. He had a simple crush. Look where it got him.
I'm starting to think I'm poison.
A lot can happen in a year.
“Hey Edie... phone,” Ryan calls through the bathroom door. Eden leans away from the mirror, drawing her robe tight against her neck, hiding the wound there. She crosses to the door, swinging it open.
“Who is it?”
Ryan gives her a quick grin, hearing a little more life in her voice.
“That fine ass bitch that's with that Vain guy...”
Eden shakes her head, taking the phone.
Eden: Hello?
Candi: Hello, Eden. How are you?
Eden: Fine. Thanks. You?
Candi: Alan and I are wonderful, but we've been concerned about you.
Eden: I'm fine. Little banged up. That's all.
Candi: Okay. I hate to bring this up now, with everything going on, but... the wedding is a little over two weeks away.
Eden: Yeah. Time's moving fast.
Candi: Right.
She pauses, Eden completely blank for a moment before running a hand over her face.
Eden: Dress shopping. That's this week.
A sigh of relief from the other end of the line.
Candi: You remembered! Of course I'll understand if you can't make it, but I'd love for you to be here. You have such great taste and Miami would do you some good. Get out... away.
Eden's eyes slide closed, a bitter taste rising in the back of her throat.
Eden: Yeah. I'll be there. I promised.
Candi: Oh that's great, I'm so excited!
Eden: I'll fly out tomorrow. Is that okay?
Candi: It's perfect! Text me the details and we'll send a car 'round to pick you up.
Eden: Alright. Bye Candi.
Eden hangs up, staring down at the phone for a moment. Her skin starts to prickle as she feels Ryan's eyes on her. She looks up to find his eyes narrowed and staring at her shoulder, her robe having slipped open while she was talking. She shrugs it back up, her face revealing nothing as she turns, sucking in a breath as she attempts to make her way into her bedroom.
“Hey! Where's your crutches?” Ryan calls to her from the kitchen.
“I got off them,” she mutters, closing the door.
Stop alienating your family.
You belong to PMN.
This is where you've been for months.
Under this place's heel.
You've sold out.
You're tearing all of us apart.
You can't let it go.
Get off your damn crutches.
The side of the toilet where Mark had hit his head still bore a splatter of his blood. She would have to talk to housekeeping about that. Eden stares hard at the dark red spray, noting how it travels onto the wall. Where was he now? What was Dragon doing to him? Was it any worse than what she had had done to him almost a year ago?
She backs away from the bathroom, glancing around the locker room, walking slowly. The specialized brace Jase had ordered for her wasn't in yet, and the one she currently wore did what it could, but walking without the crutches was wearing on her.
“Can't try on dresses in crutches,” she murmurs to herself, her face blank. Jet's voice, his accusations echo within her mind. And the book...
She looks off to the side, against the far wall, finding the book she had knocked from Jet's hands there. She crosses the room slowly, grinding her teeth together over the sharp pains shooting from her knee.
“Walk it off, Eden. After a while, you won't even feel it,” she whispers, finally reaching the wall. Lifting her injured leg, she braces a hand against the wall and bends to get the book, straightening quickly and leaning against the wall as she flips the book over to look at the cover, her breath catching in her throat.
The Book of Five Rings. Of course it was that book.
Eden slides down the wall, keeping her injured leg extended, the pain in her chest suddenly more than the ache in her knee.
Control the chaos.
The Flamel Cross tattoo.
control The chaos.
The Book of Five Rings.
control the Chaos.
There's a difference.
Which do I choose?
“You know if you ever need to talk, Eden... I've been there. With the whole... Brady thing, I mean,” Candi offers hesitantly as Eden steps out of the dressing room, once more making her way to the elevated circle surrounded by mirrors on one side. Eden says nothing, all of her focus on stepping up onto that circle without screaming. She'd gone half the bottle of medication Jase had given her for pain just since she had been in Miami. Knowing an answer was expected, she buries the urge to scream deep.
“I know. Thank you, Candi,” she says, Candi stepping up behind her, a big smile on her face. The beautiful blonde grips her shoulders, squeezing them.
“I think this is the one, Edie! What do you think? Could we really be so lucky as to find my dress and yours in one shopping spree?!” Candi practically squeals excitedly as she gushes, turning to the attendant as she receives a complete list of any and all accessories that could be added to the already glamorous gown. Eden stares at herself in the mirror, tuning everything out.
It really was a beautiful dress, and it complimented Candi's gown perfectly. At first Candi had wanted her in a shorter dress, deciding against it when Eden couldn't guarantee she wouldn't still be in the knee brace then.
Floor length satin hugged every curve until just at her knees, when the material fanned out slightly. One wide strap hugged a shoulder, the other bare, the bodice completely smooth and free of decoration, the fabric winding asymmetrically around her body, almost like a wrap. It was the kind of dress where you had to maintain the exact weight you had been at on your last fitting... or everything was off. No pressure. And to top it off, Candi had chosen it in her “signature color”. Bright, attention-grabbing, look-at-me red.
Eden continues to stare at herself in the mirror, noticing the wild yet dull look in her eyes, the bandage covering the wound between her shoulder and her neck.
What a difference a year made.
Back in Chicago...
Jase knocks once more on the door leading to Eden's apartment, finally shrugging and pulling his key out, unlocking the door. He pushes it open, noticing the lights out and no one in sight. He sighs, dropping the new brace on the kitchen counter, turning to leave... when he hears it.
A woman's moans of pleasure. Heavy breathing. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh. A man's grunts. All coming from Eden's bedroom. Jase tenses, his fists clenching.
None of my business. We're not together anymore.
He turns to leave, jerking to a stop when a female voice cries out.
“Ryan!”
Ryan? Hanneman?!
Jase turns back furiously, crossing the floor and striding through the hall, stopping short as the cracked doorway gives him a glimpse within.
Eden's bed a complete mess, covers ripped apart, pillows strewn all over; Ryan Hanneman's muscled and heavily tattooed back, sweaty with exertion, his hips thrusting roughly against a lithe form from behind, her dark hair fanning across her back. Jase swallows hard, fighting every violent urge screaming through his head as he backs away from the door. Just as he turns away, the woman flips her hair off her back, revealing a large tribal butterfly tattoo spread across her shoulders as she turns to look back at Hanneman behind her.
But Jase never saw. He exits the apartment quietly, leaving the brace behind.
The Massive Melee.
I remember everything now.
Twenty enter. Nineteen find their way to the outside. One stands at the end.
Last year, I was that one.
You caused this.
Last year, I was an untried rookie. A dark horse, at best.
No one expected me to pull it out, least of all me.
A lot can happen in a year.
Now, I'm a former UGWC champion. I've been a part of some amazing matches.
I've face most of those named for the Melee at least once.
I have victories over Cypress, Chaos, Jezebel, Erika, Ezekiel, Gian, Jet, Phrixus, and Pierce.
Get off your crutches.
I'm coming in not at 100%. My knee will be a target. I'm completely damaged, at best. And there are so many unknown variables.
I've never faced Dirge. I've never beaten Roberts.
If I have to face Dragon... can I do that and stay focused? Can I do what I need to do?
Which do I choose?
I am not well. I know Colin thinks I'm making a mistake.
I think I'm making a mistake. But it's something I have to do. My mistake to make.
Dragon said I like to do things the hard way. He's right. So here's to the hard way. The only way I know how to do it. The double-edged sword that brought me so high... and then dropped me so low.
Happy Anniversary.
And then I draw another breath.
And another.
And another.
I'm almost disappointed. I don't want to die. But it's an end. And endings are nice.
Safe.
Final.
There hasn't been an end in sight for as long as I can remember.
And I remember everything now.
“Eden...”
The quiet, questioning way in which her name leaves the lips of Ryan Hanneman is odd. Out of place. He's usually so brash, obnoxious, loud, yet now he seems almost... cautious. Tentative. An image of Ryan tiptoeing around her, the apartment echoing with silence, jumps to the forefront of her mind, causing her to giggle.
Hanneman stands in the kitchen, watching the small figure on the sofa that seems to take up even less space than she usually does, almost as if there's less of her and somehow... more. Her presence fills the apartment like a quiet storm just roiling away, in those moments when you look up at the sky and you can see the downfall imminent, but it never seems to drop. It just hangs there, waiting, causing anxiety in anyone near it. Every now and then a blinding flash of lightning jolts the senses, the ozone raising the hair on your arm in acknowledgment.
That giggle had been like that flash of lightning. Normally a joyous sound, but this time... Ryan approaches the couch, holding a phone out to her.
“It's Jet again.”
Eden just shakes her head.
“I've said all I want to say to him. When that changes... he'll be the first to know.”
Ryan raises the phone back to his ear.
“You heard her? Alright. I'll tell her.” He hangs up, placing the phone back down on the counter.
“Edie, Jet asked me to tell you--” he begins, stopping when Eden gets to her feet, her movements far too smooth and controlled as she tucks her new crutches beneath her arms. When she doesn't say anything, he continues.
“-- he needs to talk to you. Please. The 'please' was from... him...” he trails off as she stops at the entry to the hallway, fixing those blue eyes on him, almost forgetting how to breathe for a moment. There was a cold beauty to them, and something else... but those eyes didn't belong in her face.
“I already gave him Dragon's message. What more could he possibly want?” she muses almost to herself, the monotone of her voice eerie. Before Ryan can respond, she turns away, making her way down the hall to her bedroom.
I gave him the Dragon's message. Even though he didn't leave me an actual message. He talked of messages. Asked if I could give one. I could. I can. I did. With everyone swarming around us. So many hands, pushing and pulling. So many angry voices. There almost wasn't air for it. And then there was. He was there. Jet. Right in front of me. I studied his face first. Anguish. Panic. Guilt. Anger. I literally counted his pulse as it pounded at his throat.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
More angry voices. Words. Not from him. Someone behind me. Tried to pull me away. But I had a message to give. And I gave it.
You caused this.
“I'm having you taken out of the Melee.”
“No.”
Jase raises his head, his pen poised over the paper, ready to sign his name.
“Edie, be reasonable, you can't compete in the shape you're in, physically or mentally--”
“No.”
Jase gives her a reassuring smile.
“You're not thinking clearly. I'll just take care of it, sign this, and you'll have two weeks off to recuperate.”
“No.”
Jase's jaw sets as he looks away from the woman who had yet to actually look at him, all while giving him one-word answers, typically of the negative variety. He glances at the man standing off to the side, Colin looking from him to Eden, his arms crossed over his chest. Finally, Colin speaks up.
“Eden, if you compete in the Melee, it could be detrimental to your long-term health. That's not what you want, and if you do then you're quite obviously not thinking in a clear manner. That's fine, no one expects you to be, not after everything you've been through tonight. But for now, just listen. It's best, kiddo.”
A pause of silence, Jase exhaling heavily and turning back to the paper to sign it.
“I'll be in that ring... whether you sign or not.”
Jase lowers his pen again, looking at her incredulously.
“What did you say?”
Another pause of silence.
“A piece of paper won't keep me out.”
Jase runs a hand over his face, rising from his chair and moving in front of her.
“Eden, look at me. Look at me!” he says forcefully, Colin moving a step away from the wall in warning. Jase looks at him in acknowledgment, lowering his voice again.
“Sweetheart, you can't do this. It's too much, even for you. Barring everything else, your knee alone--” he stops as Eden finally looks at him, Jase taking in a sharp breath.
“I can. And I will,” she says carefully. Colin shakes his head, Jase unable to tear his eyes away from hers. He simply nods.
You caused this.
That was Dragon's message. He meant it. I meant it. Jet Somers is guilty. Travis Pierce is guilty. Cypress Morgan is guilty. Jezebel Saint is guilty. Chaos is guilty. Klaus vonKnorre. Raenius. Gian Jones. Jason Ingalls. Harley Addams.
Every. One. Of. Them. Is. Guilty. Their hands are not clean. Not even by association.
But especially Jet. Cypress. Jezebel.
They insisted. They pushed. And pushed. Damn the consequences. Damn the toll others would pay. As if they had the right. His pain would ease the insult. Never enough. Just a little more.
Erika Langford.
Jordan King.
Marek.
Norman.
Mark is only the latest. He was a victim before. I caused that. I did that. I pushed. Damn the consequences. Damn the toll others would pay. Like I had the right. His pain would ease the insult done me. Never enough. Just a little more.
I caused this. Just like he did.
The water was hot, as hot as it could get without pain and it still wasn't hot enough. She didn't think it ever would be, nothing could possibly wash away the feel of his hands on her. His hot, eager breath on her neck, his lips running over and catching on the skin in the hollow there. He hadn't actually touched anything, and yet she felt completely and utterly violated. This was beyond any of the mind games Zane had performed. Deep down, she had always felt it was a game with him. With Brady... it wasn't a game. This was him.
She reaches behind her, turning the cold water all the way off, steam rising up immediately as the heat pelts over her normally fair skin, already an angry red. She inhales deeply, closing her eyes for a moment as she forces herself to stay in place, taking the heat. For the fourth time she squeezes a good bit of liquid soap into a fluffy loofah, watching it drip from the bottle with an almost rapt fascination. She rubs the purple netting togther until suds form, sliding it over her body and scrubbing. Hard. Harder. The skin that was already so red becomes even moreso, more sensitive. Eden's eyes take on a faraway cast as she continues to scrub.
She had thought Spyder being there was a hallucination. She hadn't remembered Zane. Still didn't. From the time Brady had released her she had gone into shutdown mode... and it disgusted her. She was weak.
Too weak to stop him.
Too weak to stop Dragon.
Too weak to let it go.
Too weak to get off her crutches.
Pain eats through her thoughts and the numbness, a distant burning setting in. Glancing down, peering through the steam, she notices pink swirling with the soapy water. The stinging at her shoulder grows a little more and she pulls her hand away, tinged with red. The hollow of her neck raw where she had rubbed it over and over, the extreme heat of the water beating down. She touches her hands to the area again, staring almost incoherently at her own blood before collapsing to the floor of the shower, sobs racking her body as she curls in on herself.
Massive Melee last year. I wanted to win. I never actually thought I would. I just wanted to prove everyone wrong. One elimination. Two. Namely Ezekiel Pax and Marek Daisuke.
A year later. Marek's dead. At the hands of Ezekiel. And Dragon.
Last year. The best strategy I could come up with. Use Mark Reznik's attraction to me. No one guessed I'd go on to win.
No one guessed Jet would force my hand. No one guessed the always smiling sweetheart had teeth and claws.
Mark learned the hard way. Jet learned the hard way.
A year later. Mark's gone. Dragon has him. He tried to help me. Look where it got him. He had a simple crush. Look where it got him.
I'm starting to think I'm poison.
A lot can happen in a year.
“Hey Edie... phone,” Ryan calls through the bathroom door. Eden leans away from the mirror, drawing her robe tight against her neck, hiding the wound there. She crosses to the door, swinging it open.
“Who is it?”
Ryan gives her a quick grin, hearing a little more life in her voice.
“That fine ass bitch that's with that Vain guy...”
Eden shakes her head, taking the phone.
Eden: Hello?
Candi: Hello, Eden. How are you?
Eden: Fine. Thanks. You?
Candi: Alan and I are wonderful, but we've been concerned about you.
Eden: I'm fine. Little banged up. That's all.
Candi: Okay. I hate to bring this up now, with everything going on, but... the wedding is a little over two weeks away.
Eden: Yeah. Time's moving fast.
Candi: Right.
She pauses, Eden completely blank for a moment before running a hand over her face.
Eden: Dress shopping. That's this week.
A sigh of relief from the other end of the line.
Candi: You remembered! Of course I'll understand if you can't make it, but I'd love for you to be here. You have such great taste and Miami would do you some good. Get out... away.
Eden's eyes slide closed, a bitter taste rising in the back of her throat.
Eden: Yeah. I'll be there. I promised.
Candi: Oh that's great, I'm so excited!
Eden: I'll fly out tomorrow. Is that okay?
Candi: It's perfect! Text me the details and we'll send a car 'round to pick you up.
Eden: Alright. Bye Candi.
Eden hangs up, staring down at the phone for a moment. Her skin starts to prickle as she feels Ryan's eyes on her. She looks up to find his eyes narrowed and staring at her shoulder, her robe having slipped open while she was talking. She shrugs it back up, her face revealing nothing as she turns, sucking in a breath as she attempts to make her way into her bedroom.
“Hey! Where's your crutches?” Ryan calls to her from the kitchen.
“I got off them,” she mutters, closing the door.
Stop alienating your family.
You belong to PMN.
This is where you've been for months.
Under this place's heel.
You've sold out.
You're tearing all of us apart.
You can't let it go.
Get off your damn crutches.
The side of the toilet where Mark had hit his head still bore a splatter of his blood. She would have to talk to housekeeping about that. Eden stares hard at the dark red spray, noting how it travels onto the wall. Where was he now? What was Dragon doing to him? Was it any worse than what she had had done to him almost a year ago?
She backs away from the bathroom, glancing around the locker room, walking slowly. The specialized brace Jase had ordered for her wasn't in yet, and the one she currently wore did what it could, but walking without the crutches was wearing on her.
“Can't try on dresses in crutches,” she murmurs to herself, her face blank. Jet's voice, his accusations echo within her mind. And the book...
She looks off to the side, against the far wall, finding the book she had knocked from Jet's hands there. She crosses the room slowly, grinding her teeth together over the sharp pains shooting from her knee.
“Walk it off, Eden. After a while, you won't even feel it,” she whispers, finally reaching the wall. Lifting her injured leg, she braces a hand against the wall and bends to get the book, straightening quickly and leaning against the wall as she flips the book over to look at the cover, her breath catching in her throat.
The Book of Five Rings. Of course it was that book.
Eden slides down the wall, keeping her injured leg extended, the pain in her chest suddenly more than the ache in her knee.
Control the chaos.
The Flamel Cross tattoo.
control The chaos.
The Book of Five Rings.
control the Chaos.
There's a difference.
Which do I choose?
“You know if you ever need to talk, Eden... I've been there. With the whole... Brady thing, I mean,” Candi offers hesitantly as Eden steps out of the dressing room, once more making her way to the elevated circle surrounded by mirrors on one side. Eden says nothing, all of her focus on stepping up onto that circle without screaming. She'd gone half the bottle of medication Jase had given her for pain just since she had been in Miami. Knowing an answer was expected, she buries the urge to scream deep.
“I know. Thank you, Candi,” she says, Candi stepping up behind her, a big smile on her face. The beautiful blonde grips her shoulders, squeezing them.
“I think this is the one, Edie! What do you think? Could we really be so lucky as to find my dress and yours in one shopping spree?!” Candi practically squeals excitedly as she gushes, turning to the attendant as she receives a complete list of any and all accessories that could be added to the already glamorous gown. Eden stares at herself in the mirror, tuning everything out.
It really was a beautiful dress, and it complimented Candi's gown perfectly. At first Candi had wanted her in a shorter dress, deciding against it when Eden couldn't guarantee she wouldn't still be in the knee brace then.
Floor length satin hugged every curve until just at her knees, when the material fanned out slightly. One wide strap hugged a shoulder, the other bare, the bodice completely smooth and free of decoration, the fabric winding asymmetrically around her body, almost like a wrap. It was the kind of dress where you had to maintain the exact weight you had been at on your last fitting... or everything was off. No pressure. And to top it off, Candi had chosen it in her “signature color”. Bright, attention-grabbing, look-at-me red.
Eden continues to stare at herself in the mirror, noticing the wild yet dull look in her eyes, the bandage covering the wound between her shoulder and her neck.
What a difference a year made.
Back in Chicago...
Jase knocks once more on the door leading to Eden's apartment, finally shrugging and pulling his key out, unlocking the door. He pushes it open, noticing the lights out and no one in sight. He sighs, dropping the new brace on the kitchen counter, turning to leave... when he hears it.
A woman's moans of pleasure. Heavy breathing. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh. A man's grunts. All coming from Eden's bedroom. Jase tenses, his fists clenching.
None of my business. We're not together anymore.
He turns to leave, jerking to a stop when a female voice cries out.
“Ryan!”
Ryan? Hanneman?!
Jase turns back furiously, crossing the floor and striding through the hall, stopping short as the cracked doorway gives him a glimpse within.
Eden's bed a complete mess, covers ripped apart, pillows strewn all over; Ryan Hanneman's muscled and heavily tattooed back, sweaty with exertion, his hips thrusting roughly against a lithe form from behind, her dark hair fanning across her back. Jase swallows hard, fighting every violent urge screaming through his head as he backs away from the door. Just as he turns away, the woman flips her hair off her back, revealing a large tribal butterfly tattoo spread across her shoulders as she turns to look back at Hanneman behind her.
But Jase never saw. He exits the apartment quietly, leaving the brace behind.
The Massive Melee.
I remember everything now.
Twenty enter. Nineteen find their way to the outside. One stands at the end.
Last year, I was that one.
You caused this.
Last year, I was an untried rookie. A dark horse, at best.
No one expected me to pull it out, least of all me.
A lot can happen in a year.
Now, I'm a former UGWC champion. I've been a part of some amazing matches.
I've face most of those named for the Melee at least once.
I have victories over Cypress, Chaos, Jezebel, Erika, Ezekiel, Gian, Jet, Phrixus, and Pierce.
Get off your crutches.
I'm coming in not at 100%. My knee will be a target. I'm completely damaged, at best. And there are so many unknown variables.
I've never faced Dirge. I've never beaten Roberts.
If I have to face Dragon... can I do that and stay focused? Can I do what I need to do?
Which do I choose?
I am not well. I know Colin thinks I'm making a mistake.
I think I'm making a mistake. But it's something I have to do. My mistake to make.
Dragon said I like to do things the hard way. He's right. So here's to the hard way. The only way I know how to do it. The double-edged sword that brought me so high... and then dropped me so low.
Happy Anniversary.