Post by Roxy Cotton on Jan 15, 2019 14:35:13 GMT -5
Washington D.C., January 15th 2018
"Owowowowow! OW!"
Roxy yelps as the physical therapist raises her arm so that her wrist is level with her shoulder. The heavy beige bandages wrapped around the shoulder are padded with gauze and the tendrils of purple bruising seep out from beneath the wrappings like tributaries from a hidden river.
"Just squeeze the ball... squeeze it... hold it... good."
The therapist says in a calm voice. Roxy's face is a mask of pain as her fingers go white-knuckle as they push into the plastic sphere of a ball in her elevated hand. Her opposite hand holds her cell phone, where the concerned face of her fiance, Vinnie Lane, appears in digital form thanks to FaceTime.
"You're doing great babe! You're amazing!"
"Thanks baby.... SSSSS!"
Roxy hisses with a sharp inhalation, wincing in sharp pain as the therapist moves her arm up even farther.
"Thanks, baby... I know I am. Did you see me? Did you see the match?"
"I did babe! I didn't see it live.."
"Yeah, no one did."
"Well, time zones are crazy, but I saw a replay on the LAW website."
"Yeah, no one did."
"Well, time zones are crazy, but I saw a replay on the LAW website."
Vinnie was overseas, as he usually was lately. Following his own wrestling promotion around the globe as they continued to expand their worldwide audience. The separation and loneliness was a large motivating factor in Roxy pursuing her own in-ring career more seriously, and usually they led their separate lives the same way they led them when they were able to be in the same place at the same time – together. Times like this, though, when Roxy sat in a Washington D.C. medical center under evaluation for possible injury, she was unable to keep herself from realizing how much safer and more secure she'd feel if Vinnie were there next to her, holding her hand, rather than being a cold pixelation on a screen in it.
"You did so good! That Kate girl never had a chance!"
"SSSSS.... Ow!"
"Just one more moment Miss Cotton... good... good... now release the ball."
Roxy does as the therapist asks, releasing the ball and letting it drop into his waiting palm. The plastic expands again, freed from the pressure of Roxy's vise-like fingers. When the therapist lets go of his hold on her wrist, Roxy immediately drops her arm down, cradling it to her chest like a bird with a broken wing.
"Okay. You obviously have swelling. Inflammation of the soft tissue around your shoulder. It doesn't look like you have any nerve issues and the MRI doesn't show any soft tissue damage to your muscles or your rotator cuff."
"Okay?"
"You probably had a slight separation, not a full dislocation though. Structurally, I think you're fine. Take it easy for a couple of weeks, take a few anti-inflammatories. Ice it."
"So it's not, like, broken?"
"No... no, it's fine."
"I mean, if you're sure. I don't want to make it worse."
"Seriously, there's no worry. The bruising will fade in a few days. The swelling will subside. You'll be good as new in no time."
The therapist heads out of the exam room, leaving Roxy to gingerly slide her arm, still bent at the elbow, back into the sling she has hanging from a strap around her neck.
"That's great news babe!"
Startled, Roxy looks back down at the phone now lying next to where she sits on the exam table. She'd completely forgotten she had Vinnie on a call. Maybe she was okay without him after all.
"Yeah... I mean, yeah! Of course baby. I'm, like, really strong. I'm not a two-time Chaos Champion for nothing, you know? I bet everyone on Twitter is giving me the respect I deserve now."
"Of course you're not champion for nothing, babe! You had a setback... we all do. That cage match at Night of Glory was fuckin' BRUTAL, dude! No one really wins or loses that sort of thing... they just survive it. You stumbled, you took a step backward, but you refocused and you came back! Better than before! Now that you've beaten Kate Steele, the first LAW Champion EVER, no one can try to say you don't deserve your spot!"
"Who says I don't deserve my spot?"
"Huh? What?"
"You said no one can say I don't deserve my spot. Why would you say that? Was someone saying I didn't deserve it?"
"Uh, no. No WAY babe! No one would ever be so dumb to think that! I was just being hypothetical, dude. I mean, you know how people on Twitter can be, but that doesn't count."
"Someone was talking shit on Twitter?"
"It's not a big deal, I mean-"
"Who the fuck was talking shit on Twitter?"
"Babe, seriously, it's not a-"
Roxy rolls her eyes, clucks her tongue, and brings the phone up to her eye level, so she can stare straight at Vinnie's face while he trips over his words trying to backpedal.
"Got to go, baby. I'll call you later. Byeeeeeeeeee."
"Wait..."
Roxy blows a kiss at the screen and then disconnects the call. Within a second she's opened her Twitter app and started scrolling through her TL with swift rotations of her manicured thumb.
"OMG!"
Roxy practically jumps off of the table, her mouth dropping open.
"These fucking BITCHES!"
Roxy starts to pace around the small exam room, continuing to scroll and swipe across the screen of her iphone. She gets more and more agitated as she reads the tweets on her timeline.
"I can't believe this... I need to get hold of my girls."
Roxy quickly shuts down the Twitter app and pulls up her messenger. She frantically swipes through her contacts, reaching out to anyone she thinks might give her answers.
"Bitch."
"OMG, WTF."
Angry, Roxy lets out a low, growling sigh of frustration as she stomps over to a small countertop near the exam table she had been sitting on. She retrieves her purse, placing the strap gently over her injured shoulder. She then grabs the gleaming LAW Chaos Championship belt and drapes it over her good shoulder, then picks up her oversized sunglasses, shakes the blonde hair out of her face, and sets them on her nose.
"I bet Kenzi's done with her CTN call..."
"Well that's just fucking great."
Roxy points her nose in the air and struts out of the exam room, heading down the hall towards the exit. Her high heels echo on the tile floor as she prances her way out of the building.
BON APPÉTIT, BABY
WELCOME TO ROXY COTTON'S LIVE CAM
The clicking sound of fingernails over a keyboard is slower and clumsier this time around. When the scene lights up, the familiar setting of Roxy's bedroom comes into view. The bombshell herself sits in her usual spot in the middle of the foot of the bed, but this time she isn't dressed in a suggestive negligee or completely made up with cosmetics.
Instead, Roxy is wearing a relatively reserved ensemble – a normal silk chemise and her hair tied back behind her head in a loose pony. Her arm still in a sling, she uses only the opposite hand to type in her chat room header.
NO NUDE PLAY TODAY – SORRY BB
Roxy releases a long breath, blowing a random bit of hair away from her mouth. She looks tired. The bottle of wine sitting nearby is already empty.
"Hi everyone...
I know a lot of you are probably waiting for me to set up tip targets or raffles, but tonight isn't a good night, I'm so sorry. It's just... well, I suffered a severe, life threatening injury in a wrestling match against the former LAW Chaos Champion, Kate Steele. I won, duh, and I got my title back, but it may have cost me my career. Maybe even done permanent damage! Look at my arm!"
Roxy lifts her injured limb just slightly, trying to show more of the sling in the web camera's view while she pouts.
She reads some of the supportive comments from her chat room visitors.
"Thanks BigBaller420. I know I'm hot even with the sling. But like... my life flashed before my eyes! What if I had been killed? What if I had been crippled like Sarah? Like, I'm going to be calling my lawyer first thing in the morning and have them contact the LAW offices. They need to do a better job protecting their important celebrity stars!
I mean I know LAW doesn't want to lose me to injury. Can you imagine? The only reason their business is back in the black right now is because of the Cool Kids, especially yours truly. Look at the way they are having so much trouble keeping talent happy! Stacy Jones, Ash Williams... people are jumping ship and honestly I can't blame them. Like, they've all gotten so used to getting paid to be mediocre... then they see a real champion, a real bombshell, walk in the door and command all the attention that used to go to them without them having to put any effort into it... well, what do you expect? They're mad. They're scared. They're peanut butter and jealous. Like look at the next show. LAW had to go out and find someone who isn't even on their roster to face me. Why do you think that is? Like, wouldn't you think someone else would want a crack at the two-time champion? When you're at the top like I am, there's usually always someone aiming for your head, looking to make a name for themselves. But here in LAW? Never. They'd rather sit on their butts and watch them get wider and wider. Stacy Jones flushed the opportunity for the Marquee Championship down the toilet after screwing me out of it... typical. I should be sitting here with that championship on my bedside table and with two working arms instead of having had to work with that psychopath Kate Steele again.
But... here we are. Me with a devastating injury that would probably make a more basic bitch retire, but I'm going to get up tomorrow and get right back on my grind. Rehabbing my shoulder. Training for ANOTHER match in ANOTHER city against ANOTHER bitch who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as me. Megan Treamon? "Emo" Treamon? Who? Or is she "Otaki?" No one can even explain it to me because that's how little of a shit this girl matters to the world. Just another basic emo-screamo-weeaboo bitch who spends her spare time dressing up like the Power Rangers and writing anime fanfiction about sucking Pokemon Ash's dick. Fellatio I choose you! I'm SO proud to share a ring with that! I mean... does this silly bitch really think that just because she has a girl who looks like a cut rate Single White Female version of Kate Steele spank her in public that she can take on someone who LITERALLY spanked Kate Steele in public? What, you think because you won a throwaway, meaningless match with Sam Tolson that you're on the same level as someone who came at her ON HER OWN TURF and took away the championship that she used to define herself? You think because you ALSO played on an underachieving LFL team you're on my level? Even though your weak ass got cut and I was the only player on my squad deemed worthy of an All Star nod? Baby, I know you emo goth types hate yourselves, but is this attempted suicide? What, you got tired of cutting yourself and now you want someone else to do it for you? Honey, listen... I'm not just some regular LAW competitor. I'm The Hope Of Tomorrow. I'm the hottest act this company has seen in years. I'm the one who walked in on six inch stiletto heels and turned this motherfucker upside down by slapping the dicks out of these lazy bitches' mouths and making them do some WORK. Not to mention... do you see the gold on my bedside table baby?"
Roxy leans back and turns slightly so that the webcam can pick up the Chaos Title belt sitting next to the empty win bottle next to Roxy's bed.
"Do you see it? That's the Chaos Championship, sweetheart. You win that title by leaving every ounce of yourself in the ring. Blood. Flesh. Bone. Tears. My arm is in a sling from winning that title back. When Kate took it from me, she did it after dropping me from a twenty foot high steel cage. I could have died! When I won this championship the first time in Minneapolis, I had to choke Sam Tolson unconscious in the snow to go home with the gold. I went through all that, and will continue to do that, because my heart is in it. My soul is dedicated to winning and bringing LAW to the place it deserves to be, with me as its shining, glowing, smiling, beautiful face. Where's your heart, baby? Certainly not here, in LAW. You don't even work here. You have nothing here. No one even knew who you were, I had to Google you. And somewhere underneath pages and pages of self-loathing poetry and shitty drawings of japanimation characters, I found a few mentions of you being a wrestler. That's not going to cut it, sweetheart. Not here. Not with me. I have fans to please. Merchandise to move. A legacy to continue building. You call yourself the highlight of the night, but in Greenville all you'll be is the loser of a fight. You like that baby? I can write shitty poetry too, and I can do it without opening a vein to show everyone how SAD and EMOTIONAL I am, too! Depression is a serious thing, "Emo" Treamon, not a fucking gimmick. So you want to be sad? I guess I'll give you a thing or two to cry about when you drag your mopey, pudgy, pale ass into MY ring in South Carolina next weekend."
Roxy takes a moment to catch her breath, regaining her composure by brushing some stray hair back behind her ear and tightening the scrunchy on her pony tail. She reaches for the wine bottle and a nearby glass, but quickly realizes its empty and clucks her tongue before dropping them back onto the table.
"Megan. And yeah, I'm going to call you by your name whether you want me to or not. I'm a charitable person. I giving soul. I am a full time philanthropist on top of being a full time celebrity. So I'm going to offer you some charity. Do yourself a favor and stay home next weekend. Don't waste your time flying down to the redneck center in bumfuck South Carolina just to get embarrassed in front of a crowd full of Klan members. With the exception of my shoulder, which will be close enough to 100% by then to not even factor in, I am in peak physical condition. I'm barely 25 years old. I'm five foot seven and 120 pounds, without an ounce of body fat. I noticed you were packing a lot more slob than that. I can do three hours of cardio, whether it's at a spin class, on a pole, or in my bedroom, without breaking a sweat. I've beaten down and humiliated legends of the LAW roster. You've got nothing to win and everything to lose by stepping between the ropes with me, because all you'll be accomplishing is making your own minor successes look meaningless by comparison. How much will your home brand be able to promote you when you couldn't even hit a home run without them holding your hand? You expect them to push you to the main event after being known as the girl who begged a bombshell for a match and got sent home crying? Please. So don't bother. Save yourself the pain and the emotional burden of failing, again. Or, I guess, you can spend a night learning what pain REALLY is by getting a three course meal of it crammed down your throat by the hottest chef out there today. The ass kicking I'll cook up for you will get three Michelin stars, little girl, and I'll be serving it hot and fresh whether you're hungry or not. Don't worry, Little Emo Girl, you can purge in the bathroom afterwards. Trust me, no one will give a shit.
Bon Appetit, baby.
XOXO."
Roxy blows a kiss into the webcam and leans forward to lower her laptop screen... but then she suddenly opens it all the way back up again like she remembered something important.
"OH! I almost forgot! All you little RoxStars out there can make a real difference today by clicking on my GoFundMe link and helping my new cause! We need to come together as a community and help the people of South Africa to get their party back!
So please, give what you can, and use the hashtag BringAPartyBackToSouthAfrica!
Thanks baby! Muah!"
She follows up with another pucker, this time actually leaning all the way forward and kissing the cam, leaving behind a smear of bright red lipstick on the screen.
She uses her good hand to type the link into her chatroom, and then lowers the screen for the night.
