Anthony Taylor
Anthony Taylor
W/L/D
Posts: 1
(7/16/05 1:59 am)
Reply
|
Rebirth of a Legend Part I
Just wanted to let you guys know that alot of this first roleplay is designed to give some insight into the past of Anthony Taylor. I hope you like it and I wish everyone the best of luck
------------------------------------------------------
Chapter I: A Hard Loss
[April 20, 2005]
-London, England-
Just minutes before he is set to go to the ring Taylor is eager with the anticipation of the battle to come. His eagerness is similar to that of ancient gladiators entering the Roman Coliseum with dreams of glory and hopes of just surviving the day. As he loosened up in the back Ian Cross walked up to him and wished him luck, both men knowing that there was a possibility of facing the other shortly.
Taylor looked out from the guerilla position and he could feel the intensity of the crowd. Adrenaline filled him, the anticipation hitting it climax. Taylor felt like a rookie stepping out into the ring for the first time in his career. Awe struck he listened to the sounds, looked out at the bright lights, barely able to wait for the match to begin, waiting for the thrill of the hunt for the World Title to finally begin. It would start with his match with Jimmy Thunder.
The lights faded and his music hit the PA system. The wait was over, the match was about to begin. He entered the ring with his usual confidence and listened as the crowd booed him loudly. ‘All in a days work’, he thought to himself proudly. Not once was the outcome of the match in doubt in his mind. He knew he would go into that match and win it all.
After the match was over and Jimmy Thunder was announced the winner Taylor walked angrily back to his locker room. He replayed the match over and over in his mind, looking for the pivotal moment where he lost control of the match and ultimately ended up on the receiving end of a huge Thunder Personified. He listened in disgust with himself as the referee’s hand hit the mat for the three count, unable to kick out, unable to do anything except lose.
His mind was jumbled as he entered his locker room. One of the back stage interview staff tried to get a word from him about the match. Without paying any mind to him he brushed roughly past him, not wanting to be bothered with the press. His pride was damaged, his ego hurt. He showered quickly and dressed himself in black slacks and a pull over polo shirt. He gathered his ring gear and tossed it angrily into his duffle bag and left the arena without so much as a word to the rest of the group.
After his failure to triumph over the gargantuan Aussie, Taylor began to have doubts about himself. He tried to convince himself that it was to be expected, Thunder was one of the best Blood Box had to offer. To Taylor that fact was of little consolation. He had gone up and beaten the best man in the company right off the rip on numerous occasions. This time however he can’t help but think that for the first time since he was a mere rookie, he was totally unprepared for the match. The thought was a bitter pill to be swallowed. Had he let his affiliation with DNP lead him to believe he was invincible? Did he think that he could not lose? The sad truth was he could and did lose. He was out classed for the first time in many years. Another thought that did not sit well with him. Hell only two men have beaten him fairly in the past few years. One he put out of the business back in January when he won three separate matches to become the World Heavyweight Champion. The other is his partner in crime Ian Cross, who until Jimmy Thunder held the only win over him this year beating him in a brutal match for the World Heavyweight Championship.
Thoughts swirling, head spinning, Taylor entered his hotel room. He threw his belongings to the side, shutting the door with a loud crash. He walked over to the mini bar and opened it scouring the interior for a strong and cold drink. He wanted the drink desperately to calm the thoughts that came unbidden to him. Finding nothing to his liking he grabbed the card for his room and stormed out into the hallway. He startled one of the bellhops and pushed past him, knocking the young man against the wall. The bellhop turned to say something in reprimand but was quickly silenced when Taylor quick as a lightning bolt grabbed the young man by the throat and lifted him up banging his head against the ceiling. Taylor stared into the face of the young man, seeing nothing of his features only the look of stark terror on his face. The bellhop struggling to loosen the grip around his throat but getting no where looked into Taylor’s eyes. He would tell his friends later that he had never been more scared for his life as he was in that hallway. Taylor’s eyes were filled with violence and the promise of murder.
After a minute or so Taylor dropped the young man to the ground, unceremoniously dumping him to the side and walking towards the elevator or lift as they are called in jolly old England. The bellhop gasped for air, his lungs greedily sucking in breath that had been stolen from it. He got to his feet and brushed himself off. His neck red and throbbing from where the strong hand of Taylor had almost choked the life out of him.
Taylor made his way down to the hotel bar which would be open until roughly two in the morning. Taylor sat on one of the bar stools and gruffly ordered a double shot of bourbon with no ice. Once the drink was served Taylor drained it in one pull and immediately demanded another. The bar tender filled the glass and again Taylor downed it. After the third double shot Taylor began to drink a little more slowly, savoring the feel of the drink singeing his esophagus as it went down.
A little after two in the morning Taylor made his way drunkenly up the stairs. By this time word had gotten around the hotel about what he had done to the bellhop earlier that evening. None of the staff would come near him. He stumbled into the elevator pressing the button for the sixth floor where his room was. To him the elevator ride seemed to take forever to end. Once the doors opened he nearly fell out of the elevator. He over compensated for his near fall and hit the wall himself leaving a whole where his shoulder went through the dry wall. He finally made his way to his room and after struggling with the lock, made his way in closing the door not so quietly behind him.
Taylor stumbles his way over to the mini bar. This time he pulled out the small bottles of vodka and whiskey. He grabs a glass and drops an ice cube in it on the second try, the first falling to the floor. With a string of obscenities and knocking into the counter after misjudging it’s depth, Taylor makes his way to one of the plush chairs and half sits, half collapses into it. He pours the vodka into the glass and swirls it around for a moment. His thoughts drift unchecked to his ex-wife Selena, whom he hasn’t seen in six months.
Chapter II: Dr. Selena Matthews
[April 10, 2005]
-Troy, New York-
Dr. Selena Matthews faces a tough decision. It is a decision all women in her position must eventually make. It is also a decision she can no longer avoid. Selena must decide whether to continue on working against her doctor’s wishes or to finally give in and cease working in order to keep her health. It is a decision she has been weighing for the past month and neither solution is very appealing to her.
Selena is seven months pregnant. Her pregnancy is considered a high risk pregnancy. Her doctor wants her to relinquish her role as Chief of Staff and turn her work load over to her associates. Selena who has never backed down from any challenge she has set for herself, sees this as an admittance of failure. Rationally she knows this is not true, Rationally she knows she has to do what’s best for the baby growing inside of her. Rationally she knows she should, but when do we ever think completely rationally?
Selena’s thoughts are interrupted by a sharp, wrenching feeling in her lower back. She grits her teeth against the pain feeling as though someone is twisting and contorting her muscles in unnatural ways. Her breath comes in short gasps as she struggles to stay standing. The acuteness of the pain nearly causes her to black out. As quickly as it came however the pain subsides. Selena looks at the clock. This one lasted nearly a minute in length. Even though her doctor assures her she is in great health she can’t help but think that something is terribly wrong.
With the memory of the pain still fresh in her mind, Selena looks across the spacious living room at the mantle above the fireplace. On it is a picture of her and her beloved husband Ric. She takes the picture down and sits on the black leather love seat. Tears begin to fall down her face as she recalls the day she lost him.
After finding out she was pregnant she couldn’t wait to tell Ric. This was what they had been wanting for years. Her world came crashing down around her when she heard the screech of tires and the subsequent crash. She shouted into the phone for her husband but to no avail. The realization that Ric may never come back to her, that she may never again be held by him, kiss him, love him, came crashing over her in a dizzying wave. Worse she wondered how she would manage to do this on her own.
A phone call confirmed her suspicions. Her husband was killed by a drunk driver. The news devastated her. She couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that just when they finally get the chance to raise a child together, side by side, fate would rear it’s head and take from her the man that she loved most in the entire world.
‘Life goes on’ as the saying goes. Selena, after her initial shock and heart rending grief, set about making funeral arrangements for her husband. Ric’s adoptive parents, David and Felicia Hunter, where in bad shape. Upon hearing about the death of their son, David Hunter was admitted into the hospital because of a heart attack. After several hours of intensive care and despite the best efforts of the hospital staff, David Hunter died shortly before three in the morning.
The death of her son and her husband was too much for Felicia to bear. After hearing of her husband’s passing, Felicia suffered an emotional collapse. The doctors did an emergency CAT scan but found nothing. The trauma was purely a mental one. Felicia Hunter was admitted to the Psych Ward for continued monitoring and psychic evaluation. Selena found herself not only planning one funeral but two. She also had to make arrangements for the continued care of Felicia Hunter, the Hunter’s had no immediate family and no other children, so the responsibility fell solely on the shoulders of Selena.
Then there came a technicality. While Selena was planning her husbands funeral, she contacted the coroner’s office in New York City, to try to arrange transportation of Ric’s body. The technicality was that there was in fact no body. Baffled by this Selena arranged a flight down to New York City to investigate this further.
Upon her arrival at the hospital Selena found out that it was not them who had placed the phone call to let her know her husband was dead. They told her that aside from a mild head trauma and a few broken ribs her husband was very much alive. He had in fact signed himself out of the hospital that morning, stating he had work to do. Selena asked to see the sign out log and when she looked at it the signature was not Ric’s. The signature belonged to Anthony Taylor. Selena put her hand to her mouth trying desperately not to vomit right then and there. More confused than ever Selena left the hospital, not knowing where to go or whom to call for the answers she was feverously seeking.
Selena is awakened from her sleep by the ringing telephone. She tries to wipe the sleep and remnants of tears out of her eyes but gives up in frustration. The tears seem to want to fall of their own free will. She knows that is not rational. She knows in the back of her mind the real reason she is crying, but her waking mind refuses to accept the truth. She reaches for the portable phone, bringing it to her ear.
“Hello?” she asks into the phone.
“Hey Selena it’s Rebecca” comes the voice of her sister from the other end “how you feelin mija?”
Selena can’t help but notice the concern in her sister’s voice. She tries to reply to her in a steady voice, not wanting to give away the fact that she has been crying.
“I’m doing okay” she begins “You startled me is all. I was sleeping.”
“Madre de Dios, I am so sorry mija” replies her sister obviously upset with herself for waking Selena “I’ll give you a call tomorrow. You go and get some rest.”
“No, it’s okay Becky” states Selena “I’d love someone to talk to right now.”
Chapter III: A Long Night, A Hard Morning
[April 21, 2005]
-London, England-
Taylor sits up in the chair, waking from an all to brief sleep. His mind is still cycling uncontrollably from one thought to another, the momentary reprieve of the alcohol quickly fading. Taylor looks with a unfocused eye to the small table next to him. His drink sits untouched, the ice already melted into the liquor. He lifts the glass and swallows the drink and immediately begins to look for another one. He gets up from the chair he had dozed off in and stumbles back over to the mini bar. He reaches inside and rather than pick just one, he pulls out all the small bottles. He grabs the tray of ice and slowly and clumsily makes his way back to the chair. He seats himself once more and begins to refill the glass with the alcohol from the mini bar.
The thoughts of his ex-wife infuriated him further. He has no use for the annoying bitch. All she did was use him to get what she wanted. He despises her existence. He was weak then. She knew how to get anything she wanted out of him and she did so regularly. He hates to be made to look like a fool, and so far as he is concerned that’s exactly what she did.
With the fresh flow of liquor in his system his mind mercifully begins to quiet itself. The alcohol working it’s magic began to take the edge off his nerves and relax his tensed muscles. He begins to plot to himself. He wants revenge for his humiliation. He wants redemption for what he considers a piss poor performance. He wants to mutilate the man who has made him doubt himself. He wants Jimmy Thunder.
The last thoughts he has before he completely passes out in a drunken stupor is one that baffled him completely. He began to wonder if maybe it’s not Selena that’s the problem but him. He couldn’t quite grasp how or why the thought occurred to him. After all how could the problem lie within him? He’s Anthony Taylor. He’s done nothing wrong. It was that bitch of an ex-wife. She’s the one to blame for everything that happened back in May. She’s the one who nearly cost him everything. It’s her fault, all of it. He did what he could to help her. It cost him months out of the business, months that he could have spent chasing the World Heavyweight Title. Months he can never again reclaim. Months of painful physical therapy. Months of agony. Taylor passes out still trying to convince himself that he did the best he could, that there was nothing more he could do. Upon waking the next day he hardly remembered anything. What he did remember he discounted as nothing more than remnants of the blow to his confidence, and gave it no more thought.
Taylor woke from his alcohol induced sleep shortly after one in the afternoon. He opened his eyes momentarily, closing them quickly to avoid the harsh glare of the midday sun. He made his way shakily to his feet, fighting off a wave of nausea as he does so. His mind is clouded, still swimming in a drunken stupor. He finds that he is having a difficult time forming coherent thought, which annoys him tremendously.
The events of last night are at best a total blur to Taylor. He vaguely remembers losing to Jimmy Thunder, a fact which still does not sit well with him. He enters the kitchen area and brews a pot of coffee. The aroma begins to fill the hotel suite and once it is finished, Taylor pours himself a cup of black coffee. Hoping to clear the remaining clouds in his mind and chase away any lingering shadows of doubt. He was beaten plan and simple. No use crying over spilled milk as the saying goes.
After downing the coffee while it was hot, burning the back of his throat painfully, Taylor drew up a hot shower. The shower washed away most of the remnants of his binge last night. His only reminder was the incessant churning of his stomach, which brought from time to time fresh waves of nausea.
After dressing himself in a red Armani with a white shirt and red silk tie, Taylor grabbed the few possessions still scattered throughout the room and tossed them into his suit case. He grabbed the key card off the counter top and proceeded to the main lobby where he would check out a full day early despite the room already being paid for.
The hotel manager met him at the check in counter. The man was visibly furious, yet managed to contain his desire to yell upon seeing the monstrous form of Taylor. The manager, roughly five foot nine, was vastly dwarfed by Taylor. At six foot five he is an imposing figure to most, coupled with his proclivity to violence and his short temper, there are few men who would dare to challenge him. What makes it worse is, he knows it.
The manager, doing his sworn duty, began to reprimand Taylor verbally for his abuse of the bell hop the night before. Taylor paying no attention to the manager, handed his card to the front desk clerk and told him that he would be checking out ahead of schedule. The clerk, having heard the night shift horror story, which was exaggerated greatly by this point as all word of mouth stories are, went quickly through the process of removing his name from the registry. With the manager still going on about customer etiquette, Taylor turned from the counter and placed his dark lens sun glasses on his face to help keep some of the glare of the sun from his eyes.
Taylor, his impatience only surpassed by his arrogance, opened the door to the limo without waiting for the driver. After telling the driver, in a very rude manner, where he was going Taylor sat back in the limo and tried to calm the turbulent ocean that seemed to be a fixture in his stomach.
[April 11, 2005]
-Troy, New York-
Another sleepless night. Selena finds herself watching the sun rising in the east bringing with it the light of a new day. For some people the light brings the promise of new beginnings. For others it is the end of things as they know it. For Selena it is just another day, her usual optimism ripped away by the night of pain and discomfort. Sleep deprivation has left her feeling groggy and weak. She calls her office to let them know she will not be coming in. She can not face the heavy day of patients with so little rest over the past couple of days.
The impending feeling of something bad plays a small role in her insomnia as well. The feeling has been with her for days and she can’t seem to shake it. She has tried to think through it, to see if maybe she can figure out what will happen or to who it will happen to. She always falls just short of the epiphany that will help her to prevent the awaiting disaster, her concentration broken by the pains that have been wracking her body.
To make matters worse her sister is very much concerned about her. That much was clear when they were talking last night. Rebecca does not like that Selena lives alone in the massive house. She has in fact expressed this to her every chance she gets. Most recently though there seems to be a quiet desperation in the voice of her older sister. There is something, an unspoken fear, that causes her sister to be overbearingly persistent. Selena had thought about having her friend Amanda Diamond move in with her. With the recent incarceration of Chris Diamond for the murder of Dr. Rupert McGovrin, Amanda has been an emotional roller coaster, going from one extreme to the next in the blink of an eye.
After hanging up with her sister, which took much reassurance of her good health and promising to call should she need anything, Selena tried to sleep. Sleep however was not in the cards for her. After trying unsuccessfully for an hour, Selena slipped out of her king sized bed and took a long hot shower, hoping to soothe the anguish of her body and mind.
Having taken the day off Selena decided to go run some errands that she had been putting off. Not wanting to go out alone, not because she was afraid but solely because she wanted the company, she set about finding someone to go on her errands with her. The only problem is today is Monday. Most of the people she knows who would go with her are working, with the exception of her brother Jay who is currently in prison for contempt of court.
After contemplating it for about fifteen minutes Selena decides that sitting around thinking about it won’t get it done. So she decides to go and run her errands alone. As much as she hates to be alone these days, it is something she is afraid she will just have to get used to.
[April 21, 2005]
-London England-
The limo ride ended at the location that Darius and himself had picked out a few days before. With Darius is Justice, also known amongst the members of Damn Near Perfect as ‘Kid’. The two stand both dressed in custom fit suits, Justice looking very uncomfortable, in front of a restaurant, where it is rumored to have good food and excellent drinks. The limo pulls up to the curb and once parked the driver comes around and opens the door for Taylor.
The three men exchange pleasantries, and turn to enter the restaurant. A camera flash illuminates the already brightly lit day temporarily blinding the trio. A searing pain penetrates Taylor’s head, bringing back the all but forgotten pain of the hangover. After clearing his vision Taylor looks around, hell bent on tearing the person who took the picture apart with his bare hands.
After a brief and fruitless search the three men enter the restaurant and are seated within a few minutes. After ordering drinks, a cold beer for Taylor and Graiye and begrudgingly a Coke for Justice, they sit about the table chatting idly about nothing of great importance. Taylor sits unusually quiet amidst the good natured conversation, his face as cold as the face of a rock.
“Hey man what the fuck is up wit you today?” asks Darius “You are actin real funny.”
“Nothing is wrong D” replies Taylor “had a bit too much to drink last night.”
“Rumor around the hotel last night” begins Justice “was that you ‘attacked’ one of the bellhops.”
“He was in my way” states Taylor with a hint of venom in his voice “not only that the little shit tried to reprimand me like I was some kind of fucking dog.”
“Yeah well they also said you put his head into the ceiling” announces Justice. Darius responds with a burst of laughter. Taylor still sits there saying nothing at all.
“Damn man” says Darius his laughter quickly subsiding “usually shit like that would make you bust a gut laughin. Not even a damn snicker from you. You sure you feelin okay?”
“Fine” answers Taylor gruffly.
Not much more is said after that. Justice briefly made mention of something he had planned for this coming week, but left it at that when he could see Taylor wasn’t paying attention to anything going on around him. As the other two men ate their food both men noted that Taylor barely touched his, his mind seemed to be someplace else.
[April 11, 2005]
-Troy, New York-
The air was warm and the sky free of clouds. The breeze blowing through the trees gently caressed the leaves rustling them only slightly. Selena walked out from the large white house and made her way painstakingly to the driveway. She pressed the alarm on her keypad and the car light blink twice, letting her know the alarm is off. She opens the driver side door of the black 2003 Honda CR-V and slowly inches her way into the vehicle. After starting and backing the car out of the driveway, Selena heads towards the highway entrance, making her way into downtown Troy.
Selena parks her car in the closest space she could find, and began the seemingly endless walk into the shoe store. After selecting a comfortable pair of low top sneakers, knowing she would not be able to wear them after her pregnancy came to term given that she had to buy it a size bigger to accommodate her swollen ankles, Selena made her way over to the small drug store.
After being nearly run over by a four year old running through the store with a carriage, Selena walks back to the pharmacy to pick up her pre*****ion. After giving her name and showing her insurance card, Selena is handed her monthly supply of prenatal vitamins. She places them in her purse and makes her way to the exit. She stops along the way gripping the shelf for support as a fresh contraction tears through her. After nearly a minute, and the concern of one of the employees, Selena exits the store making her way back to her vehicle. She has one more stop on her agenda today, the grocery store.
The grocery store was packed to say the least. After selecting the items she wished to buy, Selena made her way to the check out. The line was long, the wait seemingly endless. When it was finally her turn to be checked out, she fell for the first time. The cashier rushed around the counter to make sure she was ok. Selena, unable to breathe momentarily, was helped back to her feet carefully.
Embarrassment shown clearly on her delicate features. She had made a spectacle of herself, albeit accidentally. She insisted she was fine and that she had merely lost her balance. She conveniently left out the simple fact that she had momentarily lost consciousness. When she looks back on this a few months from now she realizes that perhaps she should have gone to the hospital right then and there. She is a proud woman, not willing to admit to her own weaknesses. After paying for the groceries and being helped to her car by a handsome young man, she sat in her car she began to ridicule herself. She isn’t thinking rationally. She knows there was nothing she could have done to prevent the fall. Rationally she knows something isn’t quite right about all this, but when do we ever think completely rationally?
Chapter IV: Nightfall
[April 21, 2005]
-London, England-
After parting ways with Justice, who stated he had a few things to do before heading back to the hotel, Darius and Taylor decided to enjoy the strangely warm night. They made their way from the hotel where Darius was staying, the same hotel that Taylor had checked out of earlier today, and just walked idly down the streets of London. Both men as if they were a single organism, reached into their breast pocket and pulled out a fresh Black and Mild cigarillo. As if one organism they lit up. As if one organism the took the first drag in perfect sync. The process had begun. Taylor understands, as Darius will someday understand more clearly, that to be a team you have to think and act as one. You must fit like two gears of a large machine.
As the two walk, Taylor reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the projected matches for the week. While any one of them could be changed before the official schedule is posted, Taylor is fairly confident their match will not change. They are set to face the tandem of Joe Milone, a noted friend of Blood Box World Champion Xenophobe, and Brad Adams, the reigning Blood Box Smashmouth Champion. Taylor passes the folded sheet to Darius, who looks at the paper with a look of what can only be considered amusement.
“What’s this?” asks Darius.
“Those is the projected match ups for May second” replies Taylor.
“Are you fuckin kiddin me?” questions Darius barely able to stifle his laugh.
Taylor just continues to look straight ahead not saying a word.
“What the hell is up with you man?” inquires Darius “You haven’t said much of shit since lunch.”
Taylor does not reply. Darius trying to take meaning from the silence presses his line of questioning. Had it been anyone other than Darius, with the exception of Cross and perhaps Justice, Taylor would have flattened him and continued on without a second thought.
“You still buggin over losin to that guy yesterday?” Darius asks.
“Still trying to figure out just how he managed to beat me so easily” answers Taylor finally breaking his silence.
“You gotta get your shit together” states Darius “if you don’t then we are gonna have a hell of a situation when we have to face these two.”
“I just can’t figure it out is all” responds Taylor “I had him right where I wanted him and I let him slip past me.”
“Well I wouldn’t feel too badly about it if I was you” begins Darius “after all he beat Ian too. Face it man it was just a bad night for all of us.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to get past” comes his answer “he wasn’t all that impressive yet he still managed by some act of God to beat the both of us. Do you have any idea what that says about us?”
“It says we had a bad night” he replies nonchalantly “You know you have got to get over whatever fuckin issue you are havin and get your head back in the game. Those tag titles are as good as ours man. Who can stop us?”
Taylor goes back to staring straight ahead. He brings the cigarillo to his mouth and takes a drag off of it.
“I’m gettin sick of this no answer bullshit” he states slightly annoyed “I’m gonna head back to the hotel. I got some shit to do before we head back tomorrow afternoon so I gotta get an early start if I’m gonna get it all done.”
Darius turns and heads back to the hotel muttering under his breath the entire way. Taylor knows his friend is right. It was just one bad night. There was no reason for him to dwell on the loss was there? Yet, he can’t help but feel something isn’t right. It feels almost as if his heart isn’t in it, like some vital piece of him is missing. He stops walking and looks at his wrist watch. Five after nine. He turns to go back the way he came. He has a limo waiting for him in front of the hotel to take him to his newly acquired and sparsely furnished loft. The entire walk back to the hotel and of course the waiting limo, Taylor searches within himself to see if the answer to his current dilemma, whatever it may be, lies not around him, but within him.
[April 11, 2005]
-Troy, New York-
The feeling of impending disaster has not left her all day despite her best of efforts. In fact if anything it has grown worse. She has been feeling light headed and dizzy ever since she fell in the supermarket. In fact she had to pull over three times on the trip home just to be sure she did not inadvertently cause an accident. After all she didn’t want to endanger the life that was growing inside of her.
To top it all off the contractions had gotten worse. They have been coming every five to six minutes now and lasting for an entire minute. The pain as excruciating as it has been for nearly two weeks, still manages surprise her with their intensity. Her body is still and sore from the wrenching feeling the contractions bring with them, and she knows that they should not be as strong as they have been. She briefly considered calling her doctor and asking her about it, but quickly discounted the idea not wanting to come across as some kind of melodramatic.
As she has done more nights than not over the past month, Selena sits on the large sofa, a picture of her husband close by. She has propped herself up with a couple pillows, figuring that she would not sleep much in her bed anyway.
As she sits on the sofa memories come back to her. She finds a strange comfort in them and does not fight them off. Tonight however the memory that revisits itself upon her is one that she would very much love to forget. It is one of the few things she wishes never happened.
In her minds eye the room fades and is replaced with a cold winter day. Freshly fallen snow covers the ground and trees, making it look like something you would see in a post card. She is only about four months pregnant and in a good mood. She has only recently found out that her husband whom she thought was in fact dead, was actually alive. This was fantastic news, especially given the recent turn of events involving her in-laws.
Selena set about her usual routine. She took a brisk walk, ate a healthy breakfast, and got herself ready to go to the office, where she had a light day ahead of her, considering that she had originally intended to take the day off. Selena was in a excellent mood and she thought that nothing could ruin her day.
The girls in the office noted with a few looks of great concern the good humor of their boss. Some had speculated that she had in fact lost her mind, which to them was completely understandable. She had after all just lost her husband and father-in-law, and had committed her mother-in-law to a psych ward for evaluation. They were genuinely concerned for her and hoped this wasn’t a sign of a complete emotional breakdown.
After reassuring them that she was not about to breakdown and letting them know that Ric was in fact alive, Selena went about her day taking the time to balance the books, checking the office supplies and ordering whatever was needed, and routine things of a similar nature. The familiar routine was relaxing to her and seemed to take a great deal of stress off her shoulders.
Then about one in the afternoon her good mood completely disintegrated. A process server entered her office looking for her. In his hand was a paper she thought she would never see in her life. One look at the paper brought her to tears, her strong demeanor completely eradicated. The paper handed to her was one to let her know that her beloved husband Ric wanted a divorce.
The divorce was processed quickly, too quickly to her liking. Some thing didn’t seem right about it, but she was too distraught to care at the time. In the terms of the settlement she received sole ownership of the house in Troy, a quarter of what was in the bank account, and most importantly her practice. The proceedings where taken care of outside of a court room. Neither had to be there, all they had to do was sign. Selena signed reluctantly, her hand forced. If she did not agree to sign he would take her to court, and she knew he would win. She would lose everything she had, including her practice. She knew her soon to be ex-husband well enough to know that this was one battle she had no chance of winning against him.
The next three months were hell on her. She had been hospitalized shortly after she received the news due to an emotional overload. She became completely numb inside, her heart seeming to shatter in her chest. She was discharged from the hospital after passing a psychiatric evaluation. She returned home, the house as empty as her heart. She threw herself into her work, taking on more patients, working more hours than she should. Her doctors advised her to lighten her work load. Advice she completely ignored. She continued with her break neck pace, that is until a week and a half ago. She had no other choice.
That was when the contractions started. At first they were nothing more than a mild twinge, easily worked through. They gradually progressed, with each progression the pain worsened. It finally came to the point where the pain would nearly cause her to lose consciousness. She has done her best to deal with the pain, knowing in the back of her mind that this is not supposed to be happening right now. She feels she is being irrational, but when do we ever think completely rationally?
The phone ringing once again interrupts her reminiscing. She makes her way up from the sofa, shifting her weight to accommodate her bulging belly. As she gets to her feet her body is wracked by the most painful contraction she has had to date. She tries to walk towards the banister of the staircase that leads upstairs, seeking it’s support to fight the agony. The pain intensifies sharply, causing the corners of her vision to darken. She tops mid step seeking something, anything to grab hold of. Her pain reaching the point of almost being unbearable.
The pain stops as swiftly as it had started. She gasps for breath not realizing that she had been holding her breath the entire time. She walks into the kitchen to check the caller id on her phone. She did not immediately recognize the number. After thinking on it for a moment she realized it was the new number for her friend Amanda Diamond. She places the phone in it’s cradle, telling herself she will call her back after she gets a glass of water. As Selena walks to the sink the pain returns. The contraction blindsides her causing her to fall for the second time today. As she falls she can feel her head hit the countertop, a sickening thud echoes through her detached mind. The last thing she remembers is the feeling of blood coming out of her split skull and the horrifying realization that her water has just broken, she is in labor, and there is no one there to help her.
"The Epitome of Excellence" Anthony Taylor
Edited by: Anthony Taylor at: 7/16/05 2:00 am
|
Email This To a Friend
Topic Commands
Click to receive email notification of replies 
Click to stop receiving email notification of replies