Post by wblstudios on Apr 27, 2006 15:51:18 GMT -5
Darkness had totally engulfed the Subway/gas station/confessional in a small forgotten corner of Philadelphia as one day turned into another. While all good little girls should have been in bed, one was attempting to explain herself to the living dead. Ellis’ dead gaze kept itself trained on the young Kikyo as her hand stayed in the pocket of her jacket, handling the boxcutter. The blade itself, unretractable thanks to the rusted blood filling the switch, dug itself into Ellis’ palm every other rotation. The comfort of this cutting, combined with the comfort of having the blade in the first place, was the only thing keeping Ellis from doing something to Kikyo she might regret later.
Even in the near-vacant Subway, attended only by the old man at the gas station register and a ‘sandwich artist’ who still had to be in high school, Kikyo’s innocent voice was barely audible. “Several years ago, when I was 11, I graduated from your equivalent of high school in Japan... just like you took your G.E.D. at 11 and graduated high school. At least, according to my research.”
“Your research is right. Keep going.”
“Yeah... um, well, to tell the truth, I kind of had problems in my final year. My dad is a huge businessman... Yoshimitsu Daioh, the guy behind Daioh entertainment industries. He spearheads movies and stuff. It was kinda a bad year, and I didn’t have a lot of time to study for the college entrance exams. Most 3rd-year students, the graduating class, spend the entire year preparing for...”
“I don’t have all night to listen to you talk about Japan. Get to the point.”
Although Ellis’ expression hadn’t changed a bit, those eyes staring deep into, almost through, Kikyo, caused the lump in her throat to swell even further. “Anyways, instead of going to college in Japan, I bypassed the entrance exams and got into a college in America. I took it slow there, just went through the classes in normal doses instead of skipping ahead...”
Ellis slowly stood, knocking the chair beside, sliding her blood-soaked hand out of her jacket, twirling boxcutter intact. The blood dripped onto the ground as Ellis stood in front of Kikyo, and the young Japanese prodigy got a first class view of those dead grey eyes staring directly at her, the violent scars landscaping the cold pale skin, and the strange scent on her breath... strange to Kikyo, because she was too young and innocent to recognize the scent of death. The old man and the ‘sandwich artist’ saw the scene unfold, but both being WCF fans felt the need to stay out of it. Knowing what the living dead girl was capable of.
“I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your school. I don’t care about how you think you’re smarter than me, or better than me, or richer than me. If the next words flowing out of your mouth aren’t an explanation of how you know me so well, then the next thing that flows out of your throat will be...”
“I did a research paper on you for college!”, she choked out in fear, tears welling up in her eyes, shivering slightly. The only thought running through her head was that this had to be a mistake. A horrible mistake. “I researched you for a psychology class, and did a report. There were things about us that were so similar, both being child prodigies, both having rich parents, both believing in the supernatural... but when I saw you, and saw those police pictures of where you were chained up for three years in Jersey City, and all the blood, and then your body in that dumpster in Leonardo, and I looked at how fortunate I was in life... how different we ended up growing up, but how similar we were... it was a classic case of nature versus nurture. A huge psychology subject.”
Ellis’ stand and unbreakable gaze stood firm, but the twirling of the blood-soaked boxcutter stopped... for now, at least, it seemed like that explanation was enough. “So that’s why you came to the WCF? Because you heard about me and did a paper?”
Kikyo was in tears now, fearing for her life as the old man and the ‘sandwich artist’ had disappeared, fearing for themselves. “I had to meet you. I couldn’t stand to see you so angry, so sad, because if even one thing could have changed between our lives, I could easily be you. I got a job managing Josephine a year ago when I graduated college, and when I heard about you getting into wrestling, I tried my hardest to convince her to wrestle here in America so I could come and meet you. It just broke my heart to see you so sad... and with everyone being so mean to you... how Jack keeps abusing you and laughing you, driving you down... how JJ Biggs cost you an undefeated streak thanks to Jack and Ace, and even the things he‘s said about you... the things people say about you, even Josephine... and I see you so broken down and depressed, I can’t stand that.”
The bloody boxcutter was hurled against the picture window, leaving a rectangular blood imprint before falling to the floor. Ellis’ anger had reached it’s peak, but by contrast, she’d forced herself to get rid of the boxcutter before...
“So now you’re here, and you’ve met me. What do you expect to do? Do you think that by being here, by just meeting me, you can heal all my wounds? Heal 20 years of abuse at the hands of the world of the living? Bring me back from what I finally realized I’ve become? That after a failed 20 year experiment in this body, and it’s subsequent death to the world, you can somehow make me human again? I don’t fucking think so.”
“Gomen nasai... Gomen nasai... Gomen nasai...”
“Or maybe you just became fascinated with me. The story of this living freak, this abomination to God. Take a good look... TAKE A GOOD FUCKING LOOK! Look at these scars! Feel this skin, it’s cold as ice! Are you satisfied? Or do I have to bleed more for you? Get your fill, Kikyo. Come stare at the beast that even God can‘t love!”
The young girl was in shock at this point, staring up at Ellis while trembling, tears flowing. She was going to die. There were no witnesses. She had a boxcutter... or at least, in her terror, she didn’t see Ellis throw it aside during her last moment of conscious thought. I came to Philadelphia to try to heal this girl’s heart, and she’s going to end up bleeding mine dry. So terrified was Kikyo, that she didn’t notice that a couple of lone tears had began to trickle down Ellis’ cheek, following the maze of scars downward to mingle with the puddle of blood on the floor.
With Ellis’ violent rasp of a voice, there wasn’t much difference between furious anger and infinite sadness.
Through tear-soaked eyes, Kikyo didn’t see Ellis walking out of the Subway, didn’t see her leave her trademark bloody handprint on the sneezeguard separating customer and ‘sandwich artist’, didn’t see her get as far as the parking lot before collapsing to her knees and herself, breaking down in a flood of tears.
The realization that maybe God has forgotten about you is tough for anyone. Deep in the back of Ellis’ shattered mind, she thought that maybe there was the faintest glimmer of hope that someday, she could be healed. She came face to face with that glimmer, and tried to kill her. She wished for anything right there on the cruel, tear-soaked pavement. Wished for God to destroy this corpse that her soul was still trapped inside. Wished for God to explain why He’d been so cruel all her life. Wished to feel anything but this. Anything but human.
But wishes, even when granted, can be cruel things, as a distraction finally came in the form of a loaded gun pressed against Ellis’ temple. A gun held by the hand of a gangsta with nothing to lose. A hand that no longer had a twin, just a bloody stump that was sawed off when Ellis saved Kikyo’s life the first time.
Payback was about to be had, indeed...except for Big Hector, payback would come in the form of a bullet to the brain.
All Ellis could think about is that finally, a prayer she’d sent over the last two decades would be answered.
Blessed death...
End Part Three
---
~Ellis
Even in the near-vacant Subway, attended only by the old man at the gas station register and a ‘sandwich artist’ who still had to be in high school, Kikyo’s innocent voice was barely audible. “Several years ago, when I was 11, I graduated from your equivalent of high school in Japan... just like you took your G.E.D. at 11 and graduated high school. At least, according to my research.”
“Your research is right. Keep going.”
“Yeah... um, well, to tell the truth, I kind of had problems in my final year. My dad is a huge businessman... Yoshimitsu Daioh, the guy behind Daioh entertainment industries. He spearheads movies and stuff. It was kinda a bad year, and I didn’t have a lot of time to study for the college entrance exams. Most 3rd-year students, the graduating class, spend the entire year preparing for...”
“I don’t have all night to listen to you talk about Japan. Get to the point.”
Although Ellis’ expression hadn’t changed a bit, those eyes staring deep into, almost through, Kikyo, caused the lump in her throat to swell even further. “Anyways, instead of going to college in Japan, I bypassed the entrance exams and got into a college in America. I took it slow there, just went through the classes in normal doses instead of skipping ahead...”
Ellis slowly stood, knocking the chair beside, sliding her blood-soaked hand out of her jacket, twirling boxcutter intact. The blood dripped onto the ground as Ellis stood in front of Kikyo, and the young Japanese prodigy got a first class view of those dead grey eyes staring directly at her, the violent scars landscaping the cold pale skin, and the strange scent on her breath... strange to Kikyo, because she was too young and innocent to recognize the scent of death. The old man and the ‘sandwich artist’ saw the scene unfold, but both being WCF fans felt the need to stay out of it. Knowing what the living dead girl was capable of.
“I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your school. I don’t care about how you think you’re smarter than me, or better than me, or richer than me. If the next words flowing out of your mouth aren’t an explanation of how you know me so well, then the next thing that flows out of your throat will be...”
“I did a research paper on you for college!”, she choked out in fear, tears welling up in her eyes, shivering slightly. The only thought running through her head was that this had to be a mistake. A horrible mistake. “I researched you for a psychology class, and did a report. There were things about us that were so similar, both being child prodigies, both having rich parents, both believing in the supernatural... but when I saw you, and saw those police pictures of where you were chained up for three years in Jersey City, and all the blood, and then your body in that dumpster in Leonardo, and I looked at how fortunate I was in life... how different we ended up growing up, but how similar we were... it was a classic case of nature versus nurture. A huge psychology subject.”
Ellis’ stand and unbreakable gaze stood firm, but the twirling of the blood-soaked boxcutter stopped... for now, at least, it seemed like that explanation was enough. “So that’s why you came to the WCF? Because you heard about me and did a paper?”
Kikyo was in tears now, fearing for her life as the old man and the ‘sandwich artist’ had disappeared, fearing for themselves. “I had to meet you. I couldn’t stand to see you so angry, so sad, because if even one thing could have changed between our lives, I could easily be you. I got a job managing Josephine a year ago when I graduated college, and when I heard about you getting into wrestling, I tried my hardest to convince her to wrestle here in America so I could come and meet you. It just broke my heart to see you so sad... and with everyone being so mean to you... how Jack keeps abusing you and laughing you, driving you down... how JJ Biggs cost you an undefeated streak thanks to Jack and Ace, and even the things he‘s said about you... the things people say about you, even Josephine... and I see you so broken down and depressed, I can’t stand that.”
The bloody boxcutter was hurled against the picture window, leaving a rectangular blood imprint before falling to the floor. Ellis’ anger had reached it’s peak, but by contrast, she’d forced herself to get rid of the boxcutter before...
“So now you’re here, and you’ve met me. What do you expect to do? Do you think that by being here, by just meeting me, you can heal all my wounds? Heal 20 years of abuse at the hands of the world of the living? Bring me back from what I finally realized I’ve become? That after a failed 20 year experiment in this body, and it’s subsequent death to the world, you can somehow make me human again? I don’t fucking think so.”
“Gomen nasai... Gomen nasai... Gomen nasai...”
“Or maybe you just became fascinated with me. The story of this living freak, this abomination to God. Take a good look... TAKE A GOOD FUCKING LOOK! Look at these scars! Feel this skin, it’s cold as ice! Are you satisfied? Or do I have to bleed more for you? Get your fill, Kikyo. Come stare at the beast that even God can‘t love!”
The young girl was in shock at this point, staring up at Ellis while trembling, tears flowing. She was going to die. There were no witnesses. She had a boxcutter... or at least, in her terror, she didn’t see Ellis throw it aside during her last moment of conscious thought. I came to Philadelphia to try to heal this girl’s heart, and she’s going to end up bleeding mine dry. So terrified was Kikyo, that she didn’t notice that a couple of lone tears had began to trickle down Ellis’ cheek, following the maze of scars downward to mingle with the puddle of blood on the floor.
With Ellis’ violent rasp of a voice, there wasn’t much difference between furious anger and infinite sadness.
Through tear-soaked eyes, Kikyo didn’t see Ellis walking out of the Subway, didn’t see her leave her trademark bloody handprint on the sneezeguard separating customer and ‘sandwich artist’, didn’t see her get as far as the parking lot before collapsing to her knees and herself, breaking down in a flood of tears.
The realization that maybe God has forgotten about you is tough for anyone. Deep in the back of Ellis’ shattered mind, she thought that maybe there was the faintest glimmer of hope that someday, she could be healed. She came face to face with that glimmer, and tried to kill her. She wished for anything right there on the cruel, tear-soaked pavement. Wished for God to destroy this corpse that her soul was still trapped inside. Wished for God to explain why He’d been so cruel all her life. Wished to feel anything but this. Anything but human.
But wishes, even when granted, can be cruel things, as a distraction finally came in the form of a loaded gun pressed against Ellis’ temple. A gun held by the hand of a gangsta with nothing to lose. A hand that no longer had a twin, just a bloody stump that was sawed off when Ellis saved Kikyo’s life the first time.
Payback was about to be had, indeed...except for Big Hector, payback would come in the form of a bullet to the brain.
All Ellis could think about is that finally, a prayer she’d sent over the last two decades would be answered.
Blessed death...
End Part Three
---
~Ellis
