Taking Hold of the Flame 2024
{{ Sunday, March 30
Boston, MA }}
VWA Memento Mori is still ongoing, but Amy Chastaine is not at the TD Garden anymore. No, she’s currently in the ER at Massachusetts General Hospital, accompanied by her husband. Bree couldn’t come along, she still had a match. And Jaina hadn’t come to Boston for the show at all. So, it’s just Amy and Wyatt in the private ER room where Amy was taken after medics removed her from the ring following the brutality Ghalleon put her through. The room is darkened, as Amy complained the bright lights hurt her eyes too much; a common symptom of concussion. It’s a certainty she has one. Ghalleon had delivered several shots to her head before ending the match with a piledriver. One minute Amy felt herself being turned upside down, and the next thing she knew, she was on a stretcher backstage.
Amy opens her eyes from a short nap in the dim room, and is confused at what she sees.
“Wyatt?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Do you need something?”
“You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here.” He grabs her hand. Amy looks down at his holding hers.
“But… I thought you…” Didn’t he have one foot out the door?
“We’re past that, remember?” He squeezes her hand. “You can’t get rid of me.” He grins. Amy thinks a moment, and remembers the holidays passed. It’s… March? Yes. March. They’re in Boston. Memento Mori. Amy shakes her head to herself again. She certainly feels like death.
“Right. Sorry… what happened? Where are we?” Amy looks around, and despite the dimmed lights, the faint glow from the machines is stabbing Amy’s eyes, making her head hurt. She closes her eyes again.
“A hospital in Boston. You… had a rough time in your match.”
Amy grabs her forehead with her free hand. She’s remembering more as she wakes up further. “Ghalleon. He dropped me. I was knocked out.” Fucking Ivory Tower piledriver.
“That’s right.”
“How long did you say it was again?” Amy realizes she had already asked several times, but she keeps forgetting.
“Five, maybe six minutes.” Wyatt had answered several times too, but Amy didn’t sense any annoyance from him for her repeated asking.
“Fuck.” Amy whispered, as full voice made her head hurt more. She considers looking up at Wyatt, but decides it’s better to keep her eyes closed.
“But you’re okay now. We’re at the hospital.”
“I know that. I just… keep forgetting the answer.”
Amy feels Wyatt squeeze her hand. “Okay. Just making sure.”
“What test…. Tests… did they do?” She was pretty sure she had already asked this, too.
“An X-ray and an MRI. You were awake in the machine, sweetheart.”
“I know… I just… blanked what it’s called. I’m forgetting a lot. I’m sorry.”
“No apology needed. You took a few hard hits. You should rest until the results come back.”
Amy just nods, and makes herself relax. Instead of letting the splitting headache consume all of her focus, Amy tries to remember what happened that led she and Wyatt from him sleeping in the guest room, to being at her side right now…
{{ October 2023 }}
At the last therapy session Wyatt went to with Amy, the doctor Patrick suggested the two of them take some time together to talk. The session had gotten a little murky, but by the end of it not only did Patrick see progress, but Amy felt it herself, too. While Patrick hadn’t explicitly called it a ‘date,’ both Amy and Wyatt chose to see it that way, and they decided to lean in to that idea fully by going out for dinner to one of their favorite restaurants. Amy’s memory as she recalls this isn’t clear, thanks to the concussion, but some of their words have stuck in her mind…
“We’re doing the opposite of most couples, instead of blaming each other we’re blaming ourselves.”
“Did you really only come up with that deal to have an excuse to say no?”
“Yes.”
“Why couldn’t you just say no flat out?”
“I’ve never wanted to deny you anything.”
“Did you mean it when you said you regret starting the whole open thing at all?”
“Knowing what I know now? Absolutely. I told you, I’d never knowingly have put us at such a huge risk.”
“No, I did. You might have opened the door, but I took it too far. Too far.”
“You once told me it doesn’t do anyone any good to try to ‘what-if’ the past. Let’s not do that with this.”
Nothing else from that dinner comes to mind, but Amy does remember feeling better about her chances of saving their marriage by the time they got home.
* * * * *
Amy’s thoughts jump ahead a few weeks, to mid-November. There had been more than a few ‘date nights’ since the first one, and between those and continuing therapy sessions, Amy and Wyatt had worked through a lot of things, and by this point Amy felt like maybe they would be okay. There was nothing special about the evening she’s recalling, just that she and Wyatt were home alone as Loki had gone out with his girlfriend. Amy had made dinner; they ate on the couch in the living room watching a movie. After, Amy picked up their dishes and started cleaning up. Standing at the sink washing the last plate, she thought about the counseling session earlier in the day and how well it had gone. The topic had been trust, and they’d both admitted to regaining it in the other. Amy heard Wyatt walk into the kitchen, interrupting her thoughts. Thinking he was bringing in a forgotten glass, she said nothing and waited for the glass to appear on the counter. Instead, she felt him stand behind her, and place his hands on her shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“Thought you could use some company.”
“I’m almost done.”
“I didn’t mean help with the dishes.”
Amy finished rinsing the plate and turned the water off. She turned to face him, and he moved his hands down to her waist.
“What did you mean then?”
“Company.” He then leaned in and kissed her, softly. At that moment she couldn’t remember the last time. A second or two later he pulled back and grinned. Amy looked up at him, shook.
“What… was that?”
“I think the kids still call it kissing.” He smirked. Amy did the same.
“I know that, I meant—”
“I know what you meant. We’ve just had a nice night… seemed right. Does it?”
“Yeah. It does.”
They both smiled and kissed again, a little more fervently. Amy leaned back against the counter as Wyatt moved his hands up and down her sides, around her back. Just as Amy nearly hopped herself up onto the counter, she stopped, and gently pushed him away.
“Wait.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t you—”
“I do. But… I made a promise that I was going to do everything about recovery and therapy right. That includes this. We agreed.” Patrick had suggested they hold off on any intimacy until they and he felt their relationship was healthy enough for it. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but part of Amy’s addiction diagnoses included hypersexuality.
“We did, but we’re also not teenagers.”
“No, we’re adults, who should honor their word. We agreed to follow his suggestions, and… we really should ask. I shouldn’t do something I’m not supposed to do….” One of the things that attracted her to her addictions.
Wyatt looked down, resting his head on her shoulder. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He looked back up. “I just thought…”
“I know. And I love it. I love you. But—”
“Right way. I know. I love you, too.”
They kissed again for a few moments before Wyatt pulled away. He just smiled and walked out of the kitchen. Amy heard him going upstairs.
At her next session with Patrick. Amy can’t recall the specific conversation but the subject was brought up, and after some discussion Patrick agreed they had made enough progress that going to that next step wouldn’t be detrimental, but actually beneficial. That same night, after Loki was in his room for the night and (hopefully) asleep, Wyatt went to Amy’s – their – bedroom.
* * * * *
“Amy? Amy, are you awake?”
Amy opens her eyes, and is thankful the ER room is still dim. “Yeah.” She then notices that Wyatt isn’t the only person in the room with her anymore. She looks up at the young female doctor, who is holding a folder. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi, Ms. Lancaster. I’m Dr. Linden. I’ve just come on shift but the doctor who took you in earlier brought me up to speed, and I have your test results here.” Amy tries to sit up a little in her bed, but the movement makes her headache worse. “Try to stay still, you’ll feel better.”
“I’ve noticed. Thanks. So, results?”
“Yes. Firstly, there’s a lot of good news. Both your x-rays and MRI scans show no physical injury.”
“How is that even possible?” Amy wanted to ask that too, but Wyatt got the words out first.
“I… haven’t seen the cause of this trauma so I can’t tell you that.”
“I’m hardheaded, baby, you know that.” Amy grins.
“Well… she’s not wrong.” Dr. Linden grins.
“All I can tell you is this. Due to the symptoms you came in with, and the length of time the medics reported you were unconscious, we’ve diagnosed this as a Grade Two Concussion. Personally, I feel with your cognitive symptoms and light sensitivity you’re actually closer to Grade Three or TBI, but with no physical injury, that can’t be official.”
“Is all of… this…” Amy waves a hand around her head. “Because of how long I was down?”
“That’s my belief, yes. I also think you may feel slightly worse before you start to feel better. It might get even harder to remember things, for example. Try not to stress over it, it’ll eventually improve.”
“I’ll try.”
Dr. Linden smiles. “That’s all we can ask. I’d like you to stay overnight for observation, just to be cautious. Following your release though, I understand you live quite a ways away from here. I strongly suggest you do not take a flight to get home for at least a week.”
“A week? I can’t do that, I have—”
“You… have to take care of yourself. Don’t worry about the Academy, you know Josh and Travis can handle it, and Bree will be happy to help.”
“Bree has enough to worry about.”
“She’ll be happy for the distraction and you know it.”
Amy sighs. Wyatt is right. But a whole week, this far from home? “Listen, his sister has a private plane, would that make a difference in me flying?”
“Hmm. Maybe, just due to there not being nearly as much noise as a commercial flight. But air pressure is still air pressure and that could intensify your headaches. It’s not necessarily unsafe, just very uncomfortable. If you’d rather risk it, that’s your choice.”
“I really don’t want to be away from home that long. I want my own bed.”
Dr. Linden smiles. “I can understand that. In that case, go ahead, with caution. But don’t leave tomorrow, okay? Give it a day or two. Trust me.”
“Okay, that’s reasonable. Thank you.”
“That’s everything in your test results, do you have any other questions while I’m here?”
“No.”
“Not right now. If anything comes up I’ll just page the nurses.”
“Alright. You guys try to have a good night.”
“Thanks.”
Dr. Linden leaves, and closes the door softly. That’s the great thing about private ER rooms – they have actual doors instead of the curtains you’d expect. Soon, Amy is asleep again. The last thought before she dozed off was hoping that Bree wasn’t too worried about her and she’d happily see her in the morning.
{{ Tuesday, April 9
Harvey, LA }}
The flight home from Boston had been everything the doctor said it would be – uncomfortable but didn’t cause any further injury. However once Amy got home and into her own bed and darkened room, it had indeed been worth it.
A little over a week later, Amy still has a headache most of the day, but it seems to be less intense as the days pass. Her memory had started to improve, but one thing that hasn’t improved? Her attitude. The smallest annoyance can set off her temper, and even though she hears herself and doesn’t want to snipe or yell, she can’t stop herself from doing it. This evening, the house is recovering from her latest outburst, this time towards Loki. All the teenager had done was close the front door too hard while Amy was downstairs in her office – which he didn’t know because he’d just got home. The noise brought her dull headache back to a heavy throb and she lost it. The yelling made her head hurt more. Seeing Loki upset that not only had he accidentally caused her pain, but also made her mad at the same time, made Amy feel like shit. Loki apologized over and over, until Wyatt told him to let it be for the moment. Amy gave her own apology as Loki walked out of the room, but Amy felt like it wasn’t good enough.
Nothing she does anymore is ever good enough.
Amy has been lying in bed for about an hour now, trying to make the headache retreat. She has some Celtic music playing low while she tries to figure out what to say to Loki later. She must have dozed off though, because she suddenly hears Wyatt speaking next to her.
“Amy? Hey…” She feels his hand lightly jiggle her arm. Opening her eyes, she sees Wyatt is sitting next to her on the edge of the bed.
“Hey. Was I sleeping?”
“Yeah. Sorry to wake you up. It’s just getting close to dinner time and I wanted to ask what you want me to order.” They had been doing a lot of take out lately.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“No it’s not. I can’t answer the question because I don’t want anything.”
“Okay, then I’ll let Loki decide.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Alright. I’ll just bring you a little of whatever we end up getting, just in case.”
Amy grins. “Thanks. You’re the best, you know that?”
“What, for taking care of dinner?”
“No.” Amy swats at his arm. “For taking care of me. I know I’m not the easiest person to look after.”
“I’ve been taking care of you for most of our lives, it’s what I do.” Wyatt leans over and kisses Amy’s cheek. She smiles. Wyatt gets up to leave the room.
“Go back to sleep, I’ll bring you something later.”
“Okay. But… can you ask Loki to come see me?”
“You shouldn’t be stressing about that right now. Besides, he’s fine.”
“If I don’t say something to him tonight, I’ll be more stressed. Please?”
Wyatt sighs, giving in. “Okay. I’ll ask him.”
A few minutes later, Amy hears a light knock on the door. “Mom?”
“Yeah, come in.”
Loki walks into the bedroom, somewhat apprehensively. “Dad said you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah, is that okay?”
“Yeah it’s okay. What’s up?” Loki walks closer and sits in the armchair next to the bed. Amy sits up straighter.
“Well, earlier.”
Loki looks down. “Oh.”
“I know I said it already, but I want you to know I really am sorry for the way I yelled at you.”
“I know you are.” Loki looks back up. “You didn’t mean it. I know it’s not you’re your fault. Your brain is hurt.”
“Okay. You just looked so upset and I—”
“I was upset, but not at you. At myself, for making you feel bad. Me and Dad are supposed to be taking care of you, not making you feel worse.”
“Loki…. You’re fifteen. You’re my responsibility, not the other way around.” Amy recalls saying something similar to Jaina years ago, when Jaina was concerned about Amy’s drinking. At least this time the illness isn’t self-inflicted.
“No offense, Mom… but right now with your injury, you can’t take care of yourself, much less me. I can do extra for a while.”
“That sounds like one of Dad’s pep talks.”
Loki grins. “He might have said something like that.”
“Well, far be it from me to debate that.” Amy grins back at her son. Even though she just said his age out loud, she often has to remind herself that he’s nearly grown and not the timid, sensitive little boy he was as a young child.
“So… you just wanted to say sorry?”
“Yeah. That’s what I wanted. To make sure we’re okay.”
“Of course we are. Like I said, I know you didn’t mean it. I’m just sorry I triggered it.”
“You didn’t mean it, either. Forgive and forget, okay?”
Loki grins again. “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
Loki stands up. “Dad told me not to keep you talking long, so you could sleep.” He leans over to Amy and gives her a hug. “I hope you feel better after your nap.”
“I hope so, too. Love you, Lo.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Loki leaves the room, closing the door quietly. Amy lays back as she was before, feeling better about earlier. In the darkness with the music still playing, Amy recalls the vision she had months ago with Velvet, her sponsor. The woman was not just a recovery sponsor, but also a practicing pagan, or witch, like Amy. Velvet had led Amy through a guided meditation where she ‘spoke’ to several people in her head, who all had something to say about how she got to the low point she fell to. One of the people she saw in that vision was Dustin Diablo; Loki’s biological father. Dustin had been dead for several years, but what ‘he’ said in the vision came from Amy’s subconscious, not the dead man himself. His presence in the vision made Amy realize just how afraid she had been, for years, that Loki would grow up to become just like Dustin was. Violent, quick tempered, even borderline psychopathic. Tonight though just reinforced the truth that Amy had already come to know – Loki is never going to do that. If he was, it would have started already. And he would have reacted in a completely different way earlier when Amy yelled at him over essentially nothing.
Amy shakes her head at herself, now remembering something Jaina had told her a few months ago. When Amy told Bree and Jaina about the issues between she and Wyatt, Jaina had gotten very angry and yelled at Amy. Later, Jaina and Loki talked about it. And Jaina told Amy that Loki called her out for it, defended Amy, and told Jaina to apologize. Amy remembers some of the conversation from before the holidays…
“We both grew up with you but we have very different views of our childhood. I mostly only saw you causing your own problems, messing things up with Dad all the time, and relying way too much on me to look after Loki when I should have just been being a kid. Loki though always only saw you doing the best you could to take care of us, despite whatever else you were going through. Trying to keep everything together. I’d never seen it that way, and he made me see it. So I’m sorry, Mom. You didn’t deserve any of the things I said that day.”
“Yes I did, babygirl. Here’s the thing. You and Loki are both right. I did mess up a lot and put you in a position you shouldn’t have been in. But I also always tried to do the best I could for you. Sometimes my best was shit. But I always tried. I still do.”
“I know you do. And for the first time, I truly believe you mean it when you say you’re done now. I know you wouldn’t do anything to mess up you and Dad for good.”
Amy shakes her head, pushing the memory of that conversation away. Jaina had no idea how much it meant to Amy to hear her say that – that she believes her this time. It’s the truth too. Amy had come dangerously close to pushing Wyatt too far, and away for good. The very real threat had scared her to the marrow and there was no way she was ever going back to the behavior and habits that led them so close to that precipice. Just thinking about it now, when she’s supposed to be relaxing, makes her heartbeat speed up, remembering the fear. Amy closes her eyes, and reminds herself that they’re past it, they’re okay, and her family isn’t going anywhere. To reinforce this truth, Amy turns her thoughts to Thanksgiving morning…
{{ Thanksgiving Day }}
Amy, Wyatt, and Loki were going to Bree and Dom’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. Jaina would be meeting them there. Amy remembers being nervous on that morning, as she had recently become aware of something huge that Bree had pleaded with her to keep to herself – the fact Bree was secretly involved with Josh Hudson. Amy had deleted the security camera video evidence but she couldn’t erase what she saw on that recording from her brain. More importantly, she didn’t like the idea that she was now beholden to keep something from Wyatt, after they had made so much progress in regaining each other’s trust. But her word was her word, and she'd do her best to keep it.
After Amy got the mac and cheese she promised to bring for dinner in the oven, she was in her office checking emails as she usually does in the morning. Distracted by a fan email, she didn’t hear Wyatt walk into the room.
“Hey sweetheart.”
Amy spun in her chair; it had been months since she’d heard him call her that. Not even after they’d resumed the sexual side of their relationship, about two weeks before. Things were much better than they had been in a long time, yet still in a kind of limbo – Wyatt hadn’t moved back into their bedroom yet, not permanently.
“Hey…” She tried to hide her surprise at the term of endearment, but heard it in her own voice anyway; no doubt Wyatt had too. He grinned at her and walked further into the room and sat on the worn but comfortable couch that sits under a bay window.
“Are you busy?”
“Not really.”
“Okay. Good. I was hoping we could talk a bit before we get ready to go to Bree’s.”
Amy closed her laptop, and moved to sit next to him as he gestured.
“Yeah, sure. What’s on your mind?” Hoping she sounded calm, Amy knew damn well she was not, she could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Wyatt didn’t start conversations like this just to discuss the weather, or decide who was driving across the river.
“In a word, us.”
“What about us?”
“Well, I wanted to know if we’re on the same page.”
“About… us?” Wyatt nodded. “Shouldn’t we be doing this with Patrick?”
“No. At some point we’re going to have to be able to discuss this without his input, and I think that point is now.”
“Okay. What exactly are you asking me?”
“I want to say something first, and then ask if you agree.”
“I’m listening.” Amy’s heart continued to pound in her throat.
“First, I know the last few months have really hard on you. The whole year, really. And a big reason for some of that is me. I put you in a tough position. I had to say, and do, some things I never thought I’d have to. It’s not been easy for me either, but I know you’ve had it worse. You’re the one who’s had this… threat, hanging over your head. That I put there. And I—”
“If you’re about to apologize for any of that? Don’t. I needed it. Deserved it, even. I honestly don’t think anything else would have made me realize how fucked up I actually was.”
“Oh I believe that, and that’s the only reason I went that far. I tried everything else.” Amy nodded, they both had. “I admit I half expected you to just let me go.”
“I would never do that.”
“I know that now. I don’t have the words to tell you how proud of you I am for everything you’ve done. How far you’ve come. I won’t pretend to know exactly how much, but I know it’s been hard. But you pushed through. You did everything asked of you, by Patrick and by me. You’ve kept clean and sober. And to reiterate what we said a few weeks ago, you’ve given me no reason to doubt you and every reason to trust you.” Wyatt reached over and grabbed Amy’s hands with both of his.
All of that said, my question is… do you trust me?”
Amy grinned. That had long been a loaded question between the two of them, usually asked of her in bed. But the deeper meaning had always been, “do you trust me to not hurt you?” In any way. A few months ago Wyatt's careful watching over her seemed smothering to her, reminded her too much of the way her abusive ex, Blane, treated her before his abuse became physical. Amy knew that this question was also referring to trusting him to not ever act in any way resembling that again, not even accidentally. Leaving would hurt, too though, and since the day he threatened to do just that if she didn’t get herself together, Amy had woken up every day fearful that it would be the day he decided to call his own bluff. Yet, here he was. Still here.
“Yes. Always. You only did what you had to do to get through to me. I’m just sorry I made it so hard.”
“But we got through it. That’s the important part.” Wyatt squeezed both her hands. Amy stared, realizing what he said.
“Did we?”
Letting go of her hands, Wyatt sits back a bit and reaches behind him, pulling something from his back pocket – a thin stack of papers, tri-folded. Amy wondered how she didn’t notice it sticking out before.
“You tell me.” He handed her the papers. Amy unfolded it… to see that it’s the legal document Wyatt told her months ago he had drawn up, that would end their marriage if filed. She had only seen it once before and often wondered if it still existed.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“I want you to shred it. I don’t need it.”
“You… don’t?” Wyatt shook his head. “You’re…”
“Not going anywhere.”
Amy dropped the papers and lunged forward, as he caught her in a hug.
She did it. She saved everything.
* * * * *
Once again, Amy had dozed off without realizing it, only to be woken up by knocking on the bedroom door.
“Yeah.”
The door opens and Wyatt walks in. “Are you up?”
“I am now.”
“Good. I ordered you that lo mein you like. It should be here in about ten minutes. They’re pretty busy tonight it seems.”
“Thanks. I’ll come downstairs for it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I should move around a little.”
“Okay. I’ll text you when its here.” That was a regular thing in this house, much better than trying to yell between rooms and floors.
“Thanks.”
Wyatt leaves, and Amy grabs her phone to check the time. She had it on Do Not Disturb while she rested, so there were texts and notifications to check, too. After replying to Bree, Amy checks the notification from the VWA app. Despite being injured by Ghalleon, she’s been booked on their next show in June. Jude Lawson must be optimistic that she’ll be cleared. Her opponent for Method of Sacrifice is a man she’s known for a long time, Michael Black. And he’s just released a promo about their upcoming match, a qualifier to get into the infamous and dangerous 7th Circle of Hell match. If she beats Black, it would be her third foray into that particular hell. Amy decides to watch the promo before going downstairs. Black stood in Los Angeles with the Hollywood sign behind him as he spoke, but as Amy listened, the background disappeared as the words Black said to her bored their way into her head…
“…after Crisis of Faith that you had let yourself down, that the seeds of doubt began to creep in, and you wondered if coming out of retirement was a mistake…”
“You didn’t ask me of all people for a pep talk - but fuck that, you’re getting one.”
“…I need you to snap the hell out of it…and remember who the fuck you are.”
“……what in the fuck happened at Memento Mori?”
“… almost like your heart was barely in it, like you could have barely been bothered to even show up at all!”
“…you could be right back where you belong - fighting for the top prize in this company, and an opportunity to rewrite the past. Maybe you don’t think that’s where you belong anymore, but I’m here to tell you that you do - now I just need you to realize that yourself.”
“I want to get in that ring with the Amy Chastaine that still believes that she is one of the best in the business…. I want to face the Amy Chastaine who came into the match as the underdog and knocked off William Hush and Kaji Fireson. I need THAT Amy Chastaine.”
When the video was over, Amy stares at the still shot of Michael Black looking sincerely into the camera. His words at the end sounded sincere too, but Amy sees this still shot as a look of accusation. This man she’s known since before Heath died just laid her bare, as if he had been speaking to her face to face instead of in front of a camera.
And everything he said was right.
Amy was not the fighter she used to be. She could blame age, or her various injuries over the years, or even ring rust due to not being regularly booked, if she wanted to. But those would be excuses, and Amy was never one to make excuses. Michael Black issued a challenge – if she can’t be the fighter she was for most of her career, then why did she come out of retirement a year ago? Why should she bother to still show up at all?
Amy had shown up to Memento Mori with almost no confidence. She’s known Ghalleon for even longer than Black and knew what she was getting into stepping into the ring with him. She walked in not believing for one second that she would be able to keep up. She’s too old, too broken down, too weak. And look what happened – Ghalleon steamrolled her and concussed her, self-admittedly trying to take her out of the business completely. Shaking her head at herself, Amy can’t even blame Ghalleon. He was just being who he is, the monster he’s always been. Amy can only blame herself. Ever since coming out of rehab, Amy had lived in fear every day of losing everything that meant anything to her. Instead of using that as motivation to kick ass as only she can, she’d let it erode her confidence in herself. Made her second guess every move, hold back from attempting things she’s done for literally decades. The worst thing a wrestler can do in a match is hesitate or second guess – that’s where mistakes are made and matches are lost. Rather than letting this accusation make her feel more sorry for herself, all Black's words did was piss her off.
Amy tosses her phone down and resolves to herself right there, that she isn’t going to make those mistakes anymore.
If Michael Black wants the Amy Chastaine who bloodied, brutalized, and survived Cells and 7th Circles… that’s exactly who he was going to get. SCW had never seen Amy fight this way, only glimpses of it in a handful of matches. Against the likes of James Evans, Vixen Cain, William Hush. They had no idea what they were in for. Many people in SCW had said for years that ‘what happens in other companies doesn’t matter here,’ but Amy has always believed that was false, and she was going to prove it. She just has to follow her own damn catchphrase.
Be brave.
May 31
London
----------
It’s that time of year again, Dear Readers. Where forty men and women all put their best foot forward, make claims and guarantees and promises… that they will be the one to outlast thirty-nine others and be standing holding the proverbial Flame.
I’ve done a lot of that myself during my years in SCW. I’ve done fairly well some years, others… I didn’t even make it to the ring. It’s always a risk, entering these things. A forty-person battle royal is one of the most unpredictable matches that exists, and everyone who makes guarantees and promises are only doing themselves – and the fans – a disservice.
It’s impossible to guarantee any win, much less one like this. So you won’t see me making any lofty promises of being the victor at the end of the night. I’ve never been one to make promises I can’t keep.
There are a few things I can promise you, though.
Let me digress from the Flame for a moment and address something that I’ve made a point to keep quite about for some time. Simon Lyman. I’ve not said anything because he has been doing everything that his deluded mind can come up with to get my attention, and I didn’t think anything he said or did was worth giving him what he wanted. I have to admit, breaking into Bree’s house, using a gate entry code he must have remembered from me, almost got me. I was this close to finally calling him out. But… Bree asked me to leave it alone. She said she would handle it… and she did. I thought that was the end of it.
Until last week’s Breakdown.
I should back up right here. There’s something I need to explain before I go too far in addressing Simon, I hope you’ll bear with me and understand in the end.
I’ve been out injured since March 30th. I was in a match in VWA with a man named Ghalleon. For those unfamiliar with VWA, he is a behemoth of a being. Seven feet tall, over 300 pounds. And not one iota of mercy or remorse in his entire body. He’s wanted to face me and take me out for as long as I can remember, but until March 30th, our paths never crossed. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything – Ghalleon beat the shit out of me. Threw me around the ring, inside and out, like a rag doll. Ran me into barricades and ring posts, and topped it off by spiking me on my head. He had one goal. Not to beat me, but to take me out for good. If I wasn’t so hardheaded, he might have succeeded.
Fortunately for SCW and unfortunately for him, he failed. In fact, he only accomplished the opposite. Ghalleon didn’t put me down, he woke me up.
Have you ever been in so low a place in your life that simply waking up and leaving the house made you afraid? Or anxious? Where every second you were awake you lived in fear of everything important to you suddenly disappearing? No? Lucky you.
That was my life, for the last several months. Not just since the concussion, but since I completed rehab. Would my career ever be the same? Could I regain all the ground I lost while my head was clouded? Would my family always be angry with me? Would they ever be able to forgive me? Would my husband still be my husband?
I did the one thing I try my hardest to instill in my students not to do – let personal life issues follow you and affect you in the ring. Yet, that’s exactly what I did. I let my fear of losing everything personally follow me in between the ropes, where it became a fear of losing everything in wrestling. I hesitated. I second guessed myself. I held back. I changed my style to one more grounded, less risky. I became something I never wanted to be.
Less.
I made myself less than what I’ve always been.
And it showed. I’ve lost more than I’ve won, in either company, since I came out of retirement last March. Here, I’ve won a handful of matches. VWA? One. Exactly one. Granted, the man I did beat was someone who at one time was one of the most feared in that company. It gave me a confidence boost, and I took that here and did what I knew needed to be done in helping SCW be rid of the House of James. Whether Kirsten Scott thought I should have or not doesn’t matter and will never matter to me. I saw what had to be done and I did it. But that confidence spike didn’t last. It was a short term high on a long road of self-doubt. That road ended March 30th at VWA Memento Mori when Ghalleon tried to put me out of my misery.
He tried.
I’ve never been the type to back away from a fight, or let myself be beaten down into submission. I admit this was the lowest point I’ve ever been in… and if it wasn’t for the words of another VWA wrestler, I might have given up and stayed my ass home. But… I heard from my next opponent there. Now look, I can almost see the scowls and hear the protests – why is Amy talking about another company for an SCW match? Well, because neither company exists in a bubble. I work in both places and events in one can and do absolutely affect the other. So when I heard Michael Black speak, calling me out on my bullshit… I listened. He’s a man I’ve known for over fifteen years, going back to HVW and FTWO. We fought over titles and bragging rights. Were on opposite sides of the infamous HVW/VWA feud. Those who know about that entire meltdown.… you know. There’s never been any love lost between myself and Mike. But we’re older now, wiser. We can see the bigger picture from the vantage point of our years of experience. So when Mike told me to wake the fuck up and remember who I am… you can bet every drop of blood in your body that I paid attention.
There was a time when brutal, hardcore, even Underground type matches were not the exception but the rule of my style. My very first championship was a hardcore division title. I fought cages, cells, ladders, chambers. Hell, one of them was a ladder inside a cage. Another was a Seven Layer Cage. Look that shit up if you want to have nightmares. Yet I walked into them all with no fear, fully believing that I could not only survive them, but win them.
The complete opposite of what I’ve been doing for the last year and change.
But no more.
Ghalleon knocked something loose in my head, and Michael Black’s words clicked it into place. It was one thing in particular that he said that really hit me where I needed to be hit – in the pride. He said-
“I’m sorry Amy, but if that’s NOT you anymore, if you have other priorities, if you don’t think you can be the best in this business at this stage of your life…then I respect that. I think you’re underestimating yourself, but I respect it. But if that’s the case - then don’t say anything. Don’t waste your breath…”
Mike basically told me if I can’t hang with the big boys and girls, to stay my ass home.
Here’s the thing. Home? Is the ring. It doesn’t matter what letters are on the apron, inside a ring is my home, its where I belong. And for too long I’ve just stood there and let everyone confronting me in it ransack it and violate it. I can’t and I won’t allow that to continue. Mike called for me to be the person I used to be, back when nothing and no one scared or intimidated me and drawing blood or breaking bones was commonplace. To remember who the fuck I am and act like it.
I remember.
Now, getting back to Simon… He has been calling and crying for my attention for months. He picked a bad time to finally get it. Maybe he thought I would be easy pickings, knowing everything that’s happened to me personally, given he played a part in it. Maybe he thought it would make him feel better about himself to fuck with me and find some kind of way to further break me down. Or, maybe he wasn’t thinking at all and just wanted something, anything, to have a reason to continue to interact with me, after I told him in no uncertain terms that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him anymore.
Problem is… instead of just picking on me or Bree, he went after my daughter.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
I have no idea if Simon is going to read this blog or not, but just in case, I’ll speak directly to him.
Simon. Let me explain something to you. You finally have the attention from me that you’ve been seeking for months, and this is one of the promises I can make and know damn well I can keep… you are going to regret what you wished for. Trash talking me and my family, breaking into Bree’s house, I could let those things go, because I personally don’t care what you think of me, and Bree can handle her own battles. But Jaina? Jaina is off limits! Do you hear me? She should have never been on your radar! Not only did you target her, you tried to kidnap her! You have no fucking idea what you’ve done, but I’m going to make sure that you do. You see, almost twenty years ago, when Jaina was just three years old… a wrestler I was in a feud with took her from my locker room and brought her to a cemetery. Yes Simon…. She actually was kidnapped, for real, as a child. And here you come, with your blanket and your goon Dylan, trying to carry her off and take her to the gods only know where!
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
We may cross paths in the battle royal, or we may not. But one way or another Simon, I promise you are going to wish you never got the attention you were so desperately seeking from me.
For the rest of SCW? You’re officially on notice. You’re about to see a side of me very few of you have ever seen before. I know I was a force to be reckoned with when I arrived here in 2015, and became World Champion in less than a year. I then went on to become the fastest Supreme Champion in history, a record that likely will never be broken. But even the force that I was then, the me that beat Regan Street three times in a row, the me that took on James Evans, Vixen Cain, won the last Shot of Adrenaline tournament after an eleven match winning streak and made Christy Matthews pass out to become Adrenaline Champion… that me? Was just a glimmer of what I was capable of before I came here, and a promise of what I can be capable of now.
The fear that held me back for months? Is gone. I left it at Massachusetts General in Boston, the only part of me that Ghalleon managed to break for good. Those of you who think that events in other companies have no bearing here in SCW are going to be horrifyingly surprised when you see just how wrong you are. It starts at Taking Hold of the Flame, where I’ll be returning to the ring with a mission. Yes, it’s the same mission that thirty-nine other people have, but what they don’t have… is my experience. They don’t have the slightest idea what to expect because most of them? Never bothered to look into my history. Dig into my roots. See how I climbed and clawed and fought my way up from nothing to where I am now. They never bothered, because ‘other companies don’t matter.’ That mindset is going to cost every single one of you who ever downplayed the rest of the wrestling world, because come Sunday night at Wembley?
You’ll see Amy Chastaine walk to the ring, but you have no idea what version of me you’re getting. Not a single one of you on this roster has ever faced me in this way before. As I said, I can’t promise I’ll be the winner and go to the Rise to Greatness main event. But I will promise this: If I see an opening, I’m gonna take my shot, no matter who I have to go through or what I have to do to take advantage.
And I do mean… No. Matter. What.
Simon Lyman isn’t the only person around here who’s lost his mind. Selena Frost has been giving him a good run for “Most Delusional Roster Member,” and if she gets past Xander Valentine, I would love to be the one to put her back in her place. It’s been close to a decade since I came to SCW, and eight years since I held the World Championship. I once said that I wasn’t interested in the World Championship this time around, that I wanted to give back with this last run, help the younger, newer talent. Lead them in the right direction. But how can I do that if I don’t have my eyes on the biggest prize there is?
What kind of example is that setting?
I’m done standing back. I’m done holding back. I’m coming back with a vengeance and with one goal in mind.
Remind the entire world who the fuck I am. Amy Chastaine. And reclaim the place I’ve left deserted for far too long.
The top.
~Refuse to Die,
Amy Chastaine