Breakdown 5-20-21 #2
{{Monday, May 17
Bree's Home
Evening}}
Nearly two weeks ago, I felt on top of the world. The photo leak scandal - “Bree-astGate” - was over, thanks to my press conference. I'd even gotten some sympathy from a few of the trash media sites over the way Lancelot Crane manipulated and used me, and cost me the Dior job. Plans for the wedding were going well. Scott started working on my dress. Kara and Shane and their kids came home! We've been visiting every few days and catching up ever since. She and Amy are just as close as before, it's truly almost like nothing ever happened between them. She's even spoken to Jason, if you can believe that.
Things in SCW were going great, too. Mr. D officially granted me my World Championship rematch against Cid Turner, next week. I went through some shit at Breakdown, Asher, Cid, and Holly kept attacking me, but I had backup in the form of Chris Cannon and Datura. I think more than a few people were confused but to my surprise, a good portion of the crowd seemed to be behind me. Everything at Breakdown shed a light on the path I truly should be going down.
Yet... with all of the amazing things going on in my life, all it took was one afternoon to change everything, to wipe out all of it, and make me feel like crawling into a deep cave and never coming out again. There are no caves in South Louisiana though, so instead I am laying in my own bed, alone.... in pain and unable to be close to anyone. Not even the one person I trust more than anyone else on earth... and I think that's what hurts the most, more than any of the physical pain.
And to think, the day started out so well....
* * * * * {{ New Orleans – Earlier in the Afternoon}} * * * * *
The photographer Scott had found for me to meet with, Jude Nelson, had set our appointment for 3PM, at a studio downtown he was leasing for the month he was in the city. Dom had to meet with Lisa for something to do with the upcoming sequel that isn't actually official yet, so we took our own cars downtown, met for lunch at a cafe we like, then went our separate ways for our meetings.
Right before 3, I park in front of a brick building on Canal Street, that has no signage other than the address. But, it's the one Scott gave me, so I walk up and try the door. It's open, and a bell dings as I walk in. The room is a large open space, but with room divider screens sticking out every which way. There is a desk at the front, but no one is there.
“Hello?”
A door I didn't see opens to my right, and the man I saw in the picture Scott showed me walks through it. Same haircut, dressed casually in jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He smiles when he sees me.
“Bree Lancaster, as I live and breathe.” He walks over to me and offers his hand. “Jude Nelson. So glad you made it.”
I smile as I shake his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” He seems to be reluctant to let go of my hand, I have to pull it away. Weird. “I looked at the Gallery on your website, I am very impressed.”
“Thank you. That's high praise from you, you've done high fashion modeling work and sat for some of the best photographers in the industry.”
“I don't know anything about photography. I just know when I like a picture. And yours are amazing.”
Jude gives me a tiny bow. “Appreciated. So, straight to business, then?”
“I suppose.”
He gestures to a chair that's in front of the desk. I sit, and he leans on the desk. I am facing the door, he has his back to it. There's another chair, he just doesn't seem to want to use it. Whatever.
“Mr. Burnside tells me your wedding is on July 17th, correct?”
“Yes, two in the afternoon, at my home. It's more of an informal event. The reception follows immediately after and will basically be a pool party.”
“That sounds very lowkey and fun. Do you have a dress yet? Normally for weddings I like to take the dress shots a week or so before the event.”
“I don't, but Scott is working on it now. I can ask him to have it ready in time for that.”
“Excellent. That includes your fiance's suit as well.” I nod. Scott was making Dom one to match my dress. “Now, about shots at the actual event. You said the reception involves a pool party?”
“Yes, I have a pool in my backyard, and it just made sense.”
“It does, it sound like a lot of fun. So, I have to ask... for other shots, were you looking for candids while everyone enjoys the party, or perhaps posed shots in your suits, something akin to the photos that were recently in the news?”
I sit up straight and glare. “Excuse me?!”
“I realize those were released without your consent, but they were great photos, and-”
I stand up and tuck my clutch under my arm. “I'm sorry, but I think there's been some misunderstanding or something, and this isn't going to work. Thank you for your time.”
I start to go around the desk to the door to leave, but Jude puts himself directly in my way, blocking the door. “I'm afraid you're the one who doesn't understand, Bree.”
“Please get out of my way. I don't want your services and I'm leaving.”
“I can't let you do that.” Jude reaches to the door behind him and turns the lock. What the fuck is going on here?
“What are you doing? Open the door!” I'm now very nervous.
“No. You're going to sit back in that chair and you and I are going to have a little chat.”
“I am not moving from this spot until you explain to me what the hell is going on here!” I start to dig in my clutch for my phone. As soon as I get it out Jude reaches over and snatches it out of my hand, throwing it to the ground sideways. I gasp.
“You won't be needing that. I said sit.”
I still have no idea what's going on, but I get the feeling that I'd better just do as he says until I figure it out. So, I go back to the chair. “What do you want from me? How much?”
Jude laughs. “Why do you people always think everything is about money? I don't want your money, Bree. I want your downfall. Sadly the pictures weren't enough, but now I have you right in front of me. And I won't fail this time.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?!”
Jude leans on the desk in front of me again, and now I understand that he did this to be over me, looking down on me. “You have my name. What you don't have, is my full professional history. I had to scrub it almost two years ago, thanks to you. I was trained by someone you're very familiar with. Lancelot Crane.” He smirks. I am instantly ill.
“Oh my God....”
“I know you blame him for those photos of you hitting the internet, I saw your Oscar-worthy performance of a press conference. But you were wrong, Bree. I leaked those photos.”
None of this makes any sense. I am basically being held hostage by a man who worked with Crane that I've never heard of, and he's admitting to leaking my photos?
“How? Why?”
“Oh, that's a brilliant story all to itself. Let me take you back to 2019, when Lancelot confessed to murder and was sent to prison in Los Angeles. You remember that, right?”
“Of course I do! He attacked my friend and coworker and killed people I know!”
“He also made the brief acquaintance of someone else you know well in that prison. A Mr. LeBlanc?”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “Julian...?”
“Oh, so you do remember him. You remember telling him details of a certain photo shoot, which he then fed to TMZ? I know you do, I can see it by the way you face just turned white.”
“I will ask you again, what do you want-”
Jude gets off the desk and leans over, yelling in my face “I want you to shut the fuck up!” I turn my head away, squeezing my eyes closed. I nod. “Good. Now look at me, goddammit.” I force myself to open my eyes again and look. He's leaning on the desk again, as if nothing happened. “I wasn't done with storytime.”
“Okay... go on.”
“As I was saying.... your pal Julian heard about Lancelot being in the same cell block and made it a point to seek him out. Told him sooo many things about you, Bree. How you ruined his life, how he was in prison because of you, he tried to be your friend and you shunned him.”
“He spied on me for money then stalked me and had me attacked!”
“He said, she said. That's not important. What is important... is your pal's bitching and moaning confirmed something for Lancelot and I that we had only suspected. The reason that photo shoot story got into the news at all... was because of you.” Jude glares at me, with undoubted hatred.
“Julian sold the story to TMZ, I didn't-”
Jude reaches out and grabs my face, squeezing to make me shut up. “No! You told him! If you'd have kept your whore mouth shut, none of this would have happened!” My face hurts but I don't dare move to try to make him let go. I can feel my eyes tearing up. After a few seconds, Jude lets go of my face, but he doesn't back away from me. “Do you have any idea what you did to our careers?” I'm afraid to speak. “Answer me!”
“N...no. I don't.”
“After that story hit the internet, at least half of the shoots both Lancelot and I had lined up at his studio were canceled. Canceled! Hundreds of thousands of dollars, gone! Because of your mouth!”
“I thought he was my friend, I trusted-”
“Did I ask you a question? Shut up!” I snap my mouth closed and nod again. “I bet you remember a deal Lancelot had with Vogue, that he fought and and practically begged to keep, right? I know all about your little run in at that doll party. He had to tow the line and stifle his own creative expression to keep that job, because he needed the money, because of you! Me, I had to take whatever shit job I could get just to earn enough money for my rent. Those pictures on my site you loved so much? I was paid pennies on the dollar for what they're worth! You didn't have any clue what your carelessness caused, did you?”
I remembered Sienna saying something about the Vogue contract and how she would be forced to continue to see Crane because they both were stuck in contracts they didn't want. This was starting to make sense.... and I am getting more and more scared the longer this goes on. I'm starting to think Jude Nelson doesn't want to let me leave... at all.
“I am sorry, okay? But I'm not responsible for the story getting into the news, I had no idea Julian was working for TMZ! You're angry at the wrong person.”
“The fuck I am.” Jude leans back casually, sticking his hands into his pockets. “If you hadn't told anyone about what you agreed to in that shoot, Julian wouldn't have had anything to sell to those motherfuckers. That's the truth... you like truth, don't you?”
I open my mouth to answer, but as much as I hate it.... he's right. Julian had been the only person I told about the sex at the photo shoot. I just close my mouth and turn my head away, trying not to cry. I want to get out of here but there's no way. Jude threw my phone across the room and he's physically blocking the door.
“Back to storytime. Once Lancelot figured this out after getting friendly with your pal... oh he was pissed. But there was nothing we could do about it. He was in prison, I had to distance myself from his name, I had to scrub my resume of everything associated with him... I had to basically start my career over. We spoke about ways to get back at you for ruining everything... Lancelot even told me about some pictures he had of you and your friend Sienna Swann. But, all of his files were confiscated by police when he confessed. Looking for evidence of those missing models. So... we were going to let it go.”
“Obviously you didn't.”
Jude holds his arms out wide, gesturing to the building we're in, the predicament I am in, and smirks.
“Obviously. Months ago, I was digging in files on an old hard drive looking for a certain photo for another client, when I came across one of Lancelot's folders. Saved to my hard drive. I never knew it was there. I opened it, and there was a read-me. It said “I copied these here for safekeeping, never know if I'll need it one day. LC” And the folder was filled with unreleased photos of about a dozen models, most in... well, I'll be polite and call it, compromising positions.”
“That's where you got my pictures...”
“Oh, you catch on quick. I contacted Lancelot and told him what I'd found. He told me to do whatever I wanted with them. So of course... I plotted your complete humiliation. You ruined our careers, made me start over from nothing... so I wanted to ruin you.”
I held my head up defiantly. “You failed.”
“Yes, I'm aware. Thanks to that press conference of yours. You thought you were so fucking smart, didn't you?”
Jude then pushes off the desk and pulls his hands from his pocket... the right now holding a butterfly knife, which he flips open in front of my face.
Oh my God.
* * * * * {{ Bree's Home – Evening}} * * * * *
I am taken out of my memory by the bedroom door opening. I jump a little, even though I know it's just Dom. He has a mug in one hand, steam rising from it.
“Hey babe... I have your tea. Chamomile is the relaxation one, right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He walks over to the bedside and sets it down on my nightstand, so I can grab it by the handle. I do, and blow on it some before taking a small sip. It's very hot but also oddly comforting, the way it burns my mouth. It hurts less than everything else.
“How do you feel?” I look up, trying to find a way to put it into words, but Dom shakes his head, annoyed at himself. “Sorry, that was a stupid question...”
“No, it's okay. A little better. The pain meds they gave me at the hospital are starting to work.” I run my free hand over my throat. There's a bandage there, covering a cut. It's not deep but it hurts. Other things hurt worse.... although even that had started to subside from the meds. I don't even know what the drug was, I was just given it by the doctor who examined me, a little over an hour ago.
“Good. That's good. Do you want anything else? Something to eat?”
“I'm not hungry. But I could use another blanket... I'm cold.” Probably from shock, or a reaction to adrenaline rushing then fading away, I don't know. But I have the bed blanket over me and I'm freezing.
“Okay, there's a spare in the closet here.” Dom starts to go to the closet.
“No, I want my mom's. You know, the thick crocheted one. It's on the couch in the library.”
“Right... that'll probably be better. I'll be right back.”
I give a weak grin. “Thanks.” Dom smiles at me then leaves to get it.
I sip my tea, then stare down into the mug, as my mind drifts back to earlier....
* * * * * {{ New Orleans – Earlier in the Afternoon}} * * * * *
I can only stare at the blade that's about a foot from my face as Jude keeps talking.
“So fucking smart! How dare you go in front of the world and cast a shadow on my mentor's reputation, telling more lies?!”
Despite the knife literally in my face, I couldn't stop myself from snapping back, “Lancelot Crane is in prison for murder! Multiple people! Not to mention what he did to me, Sienna, and probably countless other models too scared to talk! He ruined his own reputation! Nothing I said made him look any worse than he did to himself.”
Jude laughs. “Wow. For a woman, you have the biggest balls I've ever seen. Doesn't this scare you?” He moves the knife closer to my face.
“Yes. But that won't stop me from telling the truth.”
“The truth? The truth?!” Jude presses the knife against my cheek. I force myself to not move even the slightest bit, I can feel how sharp the blade is. “You gave a press conference designed to tell lies! You know goddamn well that Lancelot didn't make you lie about fucking him!” Suddenly the knife is against my throat. Pressing up. “Get up! Stand up!” I didn't have a choice, if I didn't get up, he'd have cut me from pressing up. He then grabs my shoulder with his free hand and forces me towards the wall, pushing me up against it. The knife follows, still pressing against my throat. “You're a fucking hypocrite, you do know that, right? You gave some kinda hero speech about truth, then lied your way into being the new media darling. Lancelot said to me more than once he should have killed you when he had the chance.... we were gonna let all this rest with the pictures, but you changed the terms. You lied! So now, I'm gonna rectify Lancelot's mistake...” Wide-eyed, I try to press myself backwards into the wall, which of course is futile. This psycho wants to kill me! I can feel my whole body starting to shake. “But first, I'm going to get from you the same experience he had. I was his protege, after all.”
Jude gives me a sick smirk, and it clicks in my head what he means.
“No!”
Jude laughs, the knife pressing harder. I think it's finally cut me. “Oh, did you think you had a choice? Turn around!”
He grabs my shoulder and tries to force me to turn to face the wall. I put a foot backwards against the wall though, doing everything I can to stop him from turning me. He tries the other direction. I switch my feet, still blocking it. Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice says that it's fucking stupid to fight with a man who's holding a knife to my throat, but that voice also says that I would rather die than be subjected to what he's trying to do to me.
Jude stops trying to turn me around, and silly me, I thought he gave up. I exhale hard in relief, but then he pulls me away from the wall and spins me around instead, pushing me against the desk.
“Fine, be difficult. Get on the desk.”
“No, please....”
“This isn't a fucking debate!” The knife presses even harder into my skin as Jude pushes me backwards onto the desk. I know I'm cut now, I feel the sting as well as blood dripping down my neck. Keeping it pressed to my throat, he grabs under my leg and shoves me backwards, forcing my whole body up on the desk. Still with the one hand, he then yanks on my skirt, and I hear it rip.
The next ten or fifteen minutes, my mind goes elsewhere, as that voice in the back of my head begged for death instead. I have no idea how he did it, but Jude kept the knife at my throat the entire time.
When he's finished... he shoves me off the desk to the floor. I land on my side, hitting my shoulder on the concrete. I curl up as small as I can make myself, my eyes shut as hard as I can squeeze them. I hear Jude moving around, the chair scratches across the floor. Then the sound of a belt buckle, which somehow I didn't hear before. I force myself to open my eyes, if he was really going to kill me now, I wanted him to look me in the eyes as he did it. When I look though, I see Jude standing at the end of the desk, with his back to me. I can't tell for sure but it looks like he has something in his hand – it's not the knife, I see it on the floor. It's bloody. My blood. Maybe it's his phone? I don't know and I don't care.
Something inside me explodes, and I sit up. I absolutely refuse to die today! I force myself to my feet, nearly tripping on my skirt, the waistline tore so it's hanging off me, but I pull it up. Jude hears the sound of me getting up and turns around. I see pure anger in his eyes... right before I dive and drive him into the wall with a Classifer. It was instinct, I finally didn't have a knife threatening to slit my throat and it's the one offensive move I know I can take anyone out with. We both crash into the wall, I hit my shoulder again. But Jude's head also hit it, leaving a dent. We fall sideways, sliding down the wall. I get up as fast as I can and back away.
I look around frantically, looking for where my phone ended up when he threw it. Finally I see it about fifteen feet away, near one of the room dividers. I run to it, holding my torn skirt up with one hand, and lean over to grab it. My legs give out though and I crumple to the floor, near the wall. Fifteen feet away from where Jude is laying unconscious from the head strike against the wall. I pray that he's dead as I tap my phone screen with shaky hands. Finally, it's ringing.
“Hey cakes.”
I burst into tears at the sound of his voice. “Dom.... I need you.... the studio....”
“Bree... you sound... are you okay?”
“No... no I'm not...” I can't make myself say anything else.
“Text me the address, I'm on my way.”
I can't reply, so I just end the call and send the text. I put my hand up to my throat and feel the cut. When I pull my hand away, it's covered in blood. I lean into the wall and pull my legs up, making myself into a ball.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later, I hear the door rattle. Fuck! I had forgotten Jude locked it. It's a regular wooden door though, not glass like businesses, so seconds later it explodes open, and Dom storms in. He looks around at the room, then settles his gaze on me.
“Holy fuck...” He runs over to me and drops to the ground next to me. I see him notice my throat but before he can say anything I throw myself against him, crying. He wraps his arms around me.
“What the hell happened here?”
I make myself catch my breath enough to speak. “He... he worked for Crane...”
“Goddammit....” Dom pulls back a bit to get a better look at me. Looking at my throat, he pulls his button up shirt off, leaving him in just the white undershirt, and wipes at the blood. “Did you call the police?”
“No.... I... I only thought of you.”
He gently takes my hand and puts it up against my throat, so that I'm holding his shirt against it. He then pulls out his own phone and makes the call. I barely hear what he tells the operator... my eyes have drifted to where Jude is still knocked out against the wall. When Dom is off the phone, he gets my attention.
“Babe? I didn't know what to tell the dispatcher, but... is he dead?”
“I don't know... I speared him into the wall, he hit his head.”
“Okay. We'll let them figure it out.” I nod, and lean against the wall. Dom tries to put his arm around me again, but I pull away. All of a sudden, I can't stomach being touched.
“Bree?” I can't say anything, I just look at him, starting to cry again. Then, he looks down, at my skirt. The torn part is visible at my hip, under the hem of my shirt. “He tore your skirt....” I nod. A look of comprehension mixed with fear fills his eyes. “Did he....?” Dom can't finish the question, and I can't vocalize the answer. I just nod. Dom covers his face with both hands. I just lean into the wall, still balled up as small as I can make myself.
In a minute or two, I hear sirens. Another minute or so later and police and EMTs walk into the busted door. Dom jumps up and meets them. The EMTs split up, two go over to Jude, two come over to me. I want to hear what the cops are saying, but I am being asked questions.
“Ma'am, can you tell us what happened? Where is the blood coming from?” I pull my hand away from my throat, Dom's shirt with it. The lady pulls out some kind of cloth and starts wiping the wound. It stings, there must be alcohol on it. “How did this happen?”
“He... had a knife... it's on the floor.”
Just as I say this, I see a cop go over and pick it up with a gloved hand. Jude is now sitting up against the wall with the EMTs. He's alive and awake, but barely. Dammit.
“Ma'am?”
I turn back to the EMT lady. “Sorry... I...”
“It's okay. We just need to know what all happened to you.”
“He.... I.... um....” I can't say it. I just point to my torn skirt.
“I see. Stay here for one moment, okay?”
I nod. She gets up from squatting next to me and goes over to speak to one of the cops, who was talking to Dom. They glance over at me. Then the cop walks over. He's older than me. He gets on the floor next to me, but not too close. Dom follows him, but remains standing.
“Miss Lancaster? I'm Officer Vega. Can we talk for a few minutes?”
“Okay.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I... um... he...”
He holds his hand up. “Okay. Let me make this easier. I'll just ask some simple questions, and you say yes or no. You can just nod your head if you want. Is that okay?”
“Okay.”
“Do you know this man?”
“No. I mean, yes... I mean... he's a photographer. I was trying to get someone for wedding pictures....” I glance up at Dom. The look he's giving me, I can't take it. I look back at the cop.
“Okay, so no. Is he the person who did this to you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you knock him out?”
“Yes. I hit him into the wall.”
“Okay, now I'm going to ask specific things he may or may not have done. Just yes or no, okay?” I nod. “Did he hit you?”
“No.”
“Strangle you?”
“No.”
“Use the knife we found against you?”
“Yes.”
“That's the wound on your neck?”
“Yes.”
“I notice your skirt is torn, did he do that?”
“Y.... yes.”
“Did he attempt to assault you?”
“Um... yes....” I want to throw up.
“Did he succeed?” I start breathing harder, like one does when they're about five seconds from hurling. “Ma'am?”
I press my hand to my mouth, forcing the feeling away. “Y...yes.”
“Okay.” He makes some notes on a notepad, then starts to get up. “I'll be right back.”
I suddenly get a feeling of dread, and it shakes the shock away, making my thoughts more clear to where I can actually talk somewhat normally.
“Wait.”
Officer Vega stops and kneels back down to me. “Ma'am?”
“Can... I mean, is there a way to.... keep that out of the record? So the media....”
Dom then gets closer and gets back down next to me. “Bree, that's the last thing-”
“No! It's the first thing! I don't want this in the news!”
“Well, criminal charges are public record. The only way we can keep it off the record, is if he's not actually charged with r-... with that crime.”
“Can I do that?” I hear Dom sigh.
“If we leave it out of your report.”
“Okay. Leave it out.”
“Bree, are you sure you want to do that? Maybe you should think this over... can she have time to-”
“I don't need time! I need to keep this out of the media! You saw what they did to me over a damn picture, what do you think will happen if they find this out? I can't go through that, Dom. I can't. It'll be like today, but every day.”
Dom sighs again, and looks over to the cops who are dealing with Jude. He's seated upright as an EMT appears to be checking his eyes for concussion. His hands are cuffed behind his back. I'm disappointed I didn't kill him. “Okay. Your call.”
I turn back to Officer Vega. “What else would he be charged with, if you leave... that, out?”
“Aggravated assault, at the least. You could go for attempted rape.” I cringe, and Officer Vega does too a bit, earlier he stopped himself from using that word but missed it this time. I suppose I should get used to it. “Could throw attempted murder in there too, going by the throat wound, but I'm not sure if that would stick.”
“So definite jail time?”
“Nothing is definite, but more than likely. It helps that you knocked him out defending yourself and he's still here on the scene.”
“Okay. Throw anything on there you can think of that you think will stick, but leave that out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Officer Vega shakes his head a bit, but scratches out in his notepad. “There is no statute of limitations in Louisiana for this type of assault, since a weapon was used. If you change your mind in a week, a year, ten years... you can still file the report and have him charged. Understand?”
“Yes.” I knew I wouldn't change my mind.
“Alright. I'll file an initial report, but sometime in the near future you'll have to come to the station to file an official statement.” I just nod. Officer Vega gives me a nod back, and gets up, joining the other cops. Dom kneels down.
“Bree, I want you to be absolutely sure that you-”
“I am. Please stop asking.”
He sighs. “Okay.”
The lady EMT from before comes back, and squats in front of me again. “Ma'am? We're aware of your deal with the police, so you're not required to go to the hospital to be examined for evidence, but we recommend that you go anyway, that wound on your neck should be looked at, as well as, um... other things. We can take you if you like.”
“Okay.”
“Actually, thank you, but I'll take her. Draw less attention.” At least that proves he was listening to me about the media.
“Of course. I'd just like to make sure you can get up and walk before we leave.”
I nod, and start to get up. But my legs give out and I crumple back down. Dom offers me his hand to help me up. I'm torn between needing the help, and needing to touch someone to get it. But I can't stay on the floor all day, and its Dom... so I grab his arm. Dom gently pulls me to my feet. As soon as I'm up and stable, I pull my arm away. The EMT lady gestures for me to walk a few steps. I remember to grab my skirt and hold it up.
“Okay, I'm reasonably confident you're not going to fall over, so we'll go ahead and go, if that's okay?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She nods and walks off. I then notice they have put Jude on a stretcher and are wheeling him out of the broken door. I hope he has an aneurysm and dies on the way to the hospital.
The police tell us we can go, they have more work to do at the scene. Dom and I go to his car, he tries to help me walk but I pull away. I can't stand to be touched.
* * * * * {{ Bree's Home – Evening}} * * * * *
I've replayed things in my head a dozen times, trying to figure out if there was anything I could have done differently to prevent what happened to me. So far I haven't come up with anything. I set the tea aside, I don't want it anymore. At the hospital, they cleaned and dressed the cut on my throat, I thought it was worse than it really is, so it didn't need stitches. I knew that medical records were sealed so I told the doctor what really happened, and he left the room. A lady doctor replaced him and finished my exam. Oddly I didn't react badly to the medical staff being close and touching me, it was like I knew it was necessary so I allowed it. I was shocked that my throat was the only thing bleeding. Judging by the way things felt, I expected more blood. I was given antibiotics for the cut, pain medication for all the bruising; a large one on my lower back from being shoved into the desk, some on my throat, one of my wrists, my legs. I was also given some meds to protect against STD's, and offered Plan B.... except I already take birth control so that wasn't necessary. It took over two hours to finish there and it was almost dark by the time we got home. Thankfully Jaina isn't here, she's been spending a lot of time at Reece's and I am glad she isn't here to see me walk in the door like this. I took a long, hot, shower and got in bed.
And for the last little while, even as I've been replaying everything in my head, I keep hearing two things Jude Nelson said to me.
“You're a fucking hypocrite!”
“You lied!”
And I can't really say that he was wrong.
Dom comes back in, carrying the heavy, crocheted blanket. Mom made it when I was in high school, it's striped in different shades of pink and white/gray.
“Here you go.” Dom spreads it out on the bed and pulls it up over me. I flinch as he does. I'm not sure if he noticed. “Is that better?”
“It feels good.” The weight does, anyway. I haven't been under it long enough to get warm.
“Are you sure you don't want to eat something? Soup, toast?”
“I'm sure.”
Dom just looks at me a second, then nods. He sits next to me on the edge of the bed, he looks like he wants to take my hand or hug me or something but since things happened, he's caught on that I can't stand being touched. I don't mind that he's in here next to me, but I kinda wish he'd move over just a little. I hate it, but I can't help it.
“I don't know what else to do, or offer you, or...” The words trail off as Dom shakes his head. I don't think I've ever seen him appear so helpless. But there isn't anything he can do.
“You don't have to do anything. I'm sorry you have to deal with this, it's all my fault.”
“What? No, absolutely not! Why would you think such a thing?”
“He called me a hypocrite and a liar. And he isn't wrong.”
“Yes. He is. Bree-”
“He was right! That press conference, I talked about truth then in the next breath lied about why I denied the photo shoot story. I-”
“You said what you had to say to-”
“To what? Protect myself?”
“Yes!” Dom seems so insistent. But he's wrong.
“No... It was to protect my reputation. I didn't want the world to know I denied it then out of shame. I was ashamed that I let him manipulate me like that. So I lied then... and I lied a month ago. Still trying to protect myself from that shame. But look at me, Dom.” I can feel tears dripping down my face. “I'm more shamed than I've ever been in my entire life.”
“Bree-”
“I'm a terrible person and it's led me to this. This is my punishment.” I wipe my face off. Dom starts shaking his head slowly, as if he can't believe what he's hearing.
“Listen to me. That's the biggest pile of garbage I've ever heard. You are not a terrible person, you're-”
“Yes I am! I have been... haven't you been paying attention the last few years? You even questioned me more than once. Look what I've done in SCW, I hurt people. I hurt Amy! I've manipulated my family and friends, I'm no better than-”
“Shut up.”
I blink at the harshness of his tone. “But-”
“No. Stop this! You've always only done what you felt was right.”
“Yeah... right for me. Not just right. I had a million justifications for things but... but... it's all built up, Dom, and caught up to me. I pissed off the wrong person trying to make myself look better and-”
“I really need you to stop this, and listen to me. Are you listening?” I nod, wiping my face off again. “I know the things you've done, said, everything. I know I've questioned you about a few things, even disagreed with some things you've said and done. But listen... Bree... no matter what's been said or done... no one deserves what happened to you. Not one person. Especially not you. I know you have a reputation for being a bitch, or even cold-hearted, but you created that reputation for yourself because the business you're in pushed you to it. But I know you, the real you. You're the kindest, most caring, even selfless when it comes to those you care about... person I've ever known. You're not a terrible person who deserves this sick punishment, like you think you are. That man is sick, he's the one to blame for all of this. Not you. Never you. And I'm not going to sit here and let you talk yourself into believing this is your fault.”
I can't find words to respond, I just nod, still crying. Dom raises a hand and slowly, very slowly, reaches out towards my face. I watch him, knowing what he wants to do. Part of me wants it more than anything, but another part is terrified. Yet... I don't move. Dom very gently rests his hand on my cheek, using his thumb to wipe a tear off. I close my eyes and lean into his hand a little.
“No one deserves this. Okay?”
I nod, and he continues rubbing my cheek lightly with his thumb. For a moment it's comforting, as he intends. But a few moments later I just can't stand it anymore, and I turn my head away. I hear Dom sigh as he pulls his hand away. I can't look at him.
“I'm sorry.... I'm just trying to be here for you.”
I look up. He looks and sounds so hurt. This is actually the worst part of this whole thing. He wants to comfort me and I can't. “I know. And I love you for it, please know that. But I just.... I can't. I'm sorry...”
“You don't have to apologize for that. It's okay. Whatever you need. I just don't know what to do....”
I can see in his eyes that he wants to help me so much, but he can't. No one can.
“Can I just be alone right now? Please?”
“Okay.” Dom gets up and steps back a bit. “Just text me if you need anything. I'll be in the guest room next door.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
He gives me a weak smile. I watch as he gets some shorts, underwear, and a t-shirt from his dresser drawers, then leaves the room.
I pull the blankets up over myself further, up to my chin, then curl up on my side into a ball, and cry. Again. I'm so tired of crying but I can't stop. No matter what Dom says, I know that my own words and actions triggered the anger in Jude Nelson that led to today. Maybe Dom is right and I don't deserve this, clearly the psychopath went too far. But I will never be convinced that it's not partially my own fault. Right now I never want to leave this bedroom again, but I know I can't hide here forever. I have a family, friends... a job. I have a responsibility to right at least some of the wrongs I helped create, and put a stop to the disrespect for the World Championship that's been on display ever since Retribution. I have that chance in a few days.... if I can make myself climb out of this hole and focus.
I can do it, but not today. Today I need to be alone, I need to process. I'm hurt in so many ways, in pain... but I'm also angry. That man hurt me, yes, but even worse is that he took away my ability to stand being touched by anyone, including the man I love, my soon-to-be husband. The wedding is in two months and the thought of what happens on wedding nights makes me want to throw up.
Can there even be a wedding?
ON CAMERA
On the balcony of a hotel room suite, a typical location for Bree Lancaster to film her promos, we once again find her seated at the patio table. Today she looks different than usual though. Bree has her hair loose around her shoulders, and is wearing minimal makeup, if any at all. Seated at the table, we can only see her from the waist up, wearing a plain gray t-shirt. A long bandage can be seen on her neck, almost under her chin, slightly to the left.
Before I say anything else, I want to first thank Mr. D for giving me this opportunity this week. When I asked for my rematch after returning from injury, I suspected he might have me wait til Taking Hold of the Flame to get it. While that would have been a bigger stage, I'm happy that it's happening tomorrow night. The sooner the better, if I can get the World Championship away from the group of people degrading its value every time they appear with one of them holding the belt.
And by belt, I mean the real one, not the fake monstrosity that Asher Hayes had created. But that seems to be a perfect metaphor for who he is, doesn't it? Obnoxious fake belt for an obnoxious fake 'champion.' Everyone in the world knows that Cid Turner is the World Champion, not Asher.... yet he continues to pretend that he is. It would be sad if it wasn't so disrespectful.
It seems that's all the three of them, Asher, Holly, and Cid, know what to do though. Display disrespect. I mean, let's look at Breakdown last week. Asher attacked me from behind, and Cid joined in trying to kick the snot out of me. I owe Chris Cannon yet another thank you for coming out and stopping them before they did too much damage. Then, later for what was supposed to be the main event? Asher and Cid against me and Datura? Well... Asher tried to get away with not fighting at all! He was this close to convincing Cid that there was no reason to fight us. When Datura and I wouldn't let that happen, he and Cid, with Holly's help, did everything they could to keep me down, again. Double teaming, kicking me, everything they could think of.
But I don't stay down, babes.
No matter what anyone does to me, I refuse to stay down.
Bree rubs the bandage on her neck, almost subconsciously.
After the events of Breakdown last week, it became very clear to me that the line has been drawn and my position is just as clear. I am not on the side of myself, as people have been claiming about me for years.. not without cause I admit. But I am on the side of SCW, and the World Championship. Maybe the SCW Faithful and I have misunderstood each other all these years. All I ever wanted to do was hold any championship I won with pride and make sure that anyone fighting for it was worthy of it. You wanted a champion who stood for something, who knew right from wrong and fought for more than themselves. I know I have said and done things in the past that have been seen as selfish, or manipulative, in some cases out of line. I won't apologize for anything I've done in the past, because at the time I did anything... it was what I felt was the right thing for that moment. I have always been true to myself and what I stand for, and that will never change.
Today, the day before my chance to win the World Championship back, I stand for dignity, respect, the honor that comes with carrying the World Championship... and even the reputation of the championship itself. It's further and further degraded every day that Cid Turner holds it and allows Asher and Holly to play fantasyland, parading it around with a replica side by side while Asher calls himself a co-champion.
Bree shakes her head in sad disgust.
It actually pains me to see what has become of the World Championship once it left my possession. I have always carried any championship I held with pride, honor. Going all the way back to when I was United States Champion, and it fell into the hands of Giovanni Aries, who destroyed not one, but two belts. That was more insulting to me than anything else because that belt stands for something. The World Championship belt stands for something, too. It's meant to be carried with honor by the person who had the privilege of facing the former champion and had the talent and skill to beat them for it.
Cid Turner did not become champion that way. It was quite literally an accident. It's obvious that Holly was trying to screw Chris at Retribution to make Asher champion, not Cid. But they messed up and Cid ended up getting the pinfall. This is why Asher has gone off the deep end, because in his mind, he should be the champion.
Bree pauses for a moment, then grins, amused at the thought that's come to mind.
You know, this whole situation reminds me of one of my favorite books. Now Cid, I'm not sure you're really a purveyor of classic literature, so maybe you can imagine the movies instead while I explain this, I think you'll be able to follow along.
What's going on here, is an SCW version of Lord of the Rings. Lord of the Ring, perhaps. The World Championship is like the One Ring, except its the One Belt. The Precious, if you will. And you Cid.... you are Frodo. The belt came into your possession accidentally, you weren't seeking it out. Yet now you carry it.. and the weight of it is dragging you down.
Now, Asher might think of himself as Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's best friend and for a short time, also a ring-bearer. He calls himself the co-champion, right? But Asher isn't Sam. Oh no... nonono. Asher is in fact Boromir of Gondor. Following Frodo around, pretending to be his sworn protector and friend, yet all the while... the ring is calling to him. Asher wants your belt, Cid. He wants it, he needs it, it's all he can think about, even in his sleep, I'd be willing to bet. And if you continue to carry it Cid... Asher will try to take it from you. Guaranteed.
A pause here, to let that comparison sink in.
Now, you might be wondering where Holly Adams fits into all this. She only started to give a damn once Asher and Cid found themselves in the position of facing the Tag Champions and World Champion, with both titles on the line. She calls herself a Life Coach, she wants to lead Asher and Cid to greatness. She wants them to trust her, yet all the while she is just using them for her own purposes, she wants the belt, too. Holly, therefore.... is Gollum.
Bree smirks.
The call of the Precious.... the belt, is pulling her in, too. Notice how she carries the belt any time she can, despite the fact it doesn't belong to her? She stares at it far more than makes sense for someone who isn't even in contention. I used to think she was just looking at her reflection in the faceplate, but that isn't it. She's envisioning herself as champion... once she can get both Cid and Asher out of the way, by leading them to ruin under the guise of helping them. It would be smart.... except I've read this book and it's obvious what's going on here.
If Asher is Boromir and Holly is Gollum, you may be wondering... who represents Samwise in this little metaphor of mine? Well, that's easy.
I am.
I know, I know. Cid, you and I are not the best of friends. But Sam was the one who always saw everything for what it truly was. He knew Gollum was a sneak. He was wary of Boromir. He did everything he could to save Frodo from himself, and save the ring from being stolen by the corrupt. And that's what I am going to do with you Cid. I'm going to save you from yourself, from the burden of carrying the World Championship.
Bree leans on the table, as one would do speaking to a close friend.
It's heavy, isn't it? I know it is, I've carried it twice. If one isn't prepared for it, or ready for it, it can be very easy to be crushed under the weight of the responsibility, the expectations. It's obvious to everyone that the pressure is breaking you, Cid. Just like Frodo. Near the end he could barely walk under the weight of the ring. Sam had to literally carry him into Mount Doom. Now, I don't plan on carrying you anywhere, so let's get that thought out of everyone's collective minds. What I do pan to do though, is relieve you of that burden.
Let's get back to reality now, and the reality is that I am sick to my stomach of the way the SCW World Championship has been treated since Retribution. It's been used as a prop for a man's ego, who isn't even the recognized holder of the championship. Not only is the image of the title being damaged, but the image of SCW itself. And that.... I can't stand for. I have enough of watching this company's reputation being violated, the dignity of the championship being violated... being personally violated.... all in the name of ego.
Enough!
It's far past time that someone put a stop to this farce. Datura tried her best and I am proud of her effort, but now this responsibility falls to me. I want to briefly mention something Josh Hudson said to me on Twitter, that I should not make this about me, I should prove that I've earned this. It isn't about me, I just happen to be the next person with the shot to fix this, and restore the World Championship to the honor it has always stood for.
I have always spoken the truth, prided myself on it, even when that truth was unpopular, or not what the people wanted to hear. Right now though, the truth is that SCW deserves a World Champion who has pride in not only themselves but also the championship itself. Who understands the lineage behind it, what it takes to be in the position to hold it in the first place. A World Champion who is strong enough to not allow themselves to be railroaded or taken advantage of. One who has proven over and over again that they can handle the burden that comes along with being at the top. And right now, there are a lot of people who agree with me.
You are not that person, Cid. And I'm not saying that to put you down or demean your talent. I've been in the ring with you, I know what you're capable of. But the way you stand by and just.... allow Asher and Holly to tell you what to do, carry your title as if it was theirs... you weren't ready to take the position they put you into. I can relieve you of that burden, Cid. In fact... that will be my birthday gift to you. I am going to remove the weight of being World Champion from your shoulders, so you can breathe again. I can take it from here.
Bree places a hand over her heart. In the past when she has done this it's been with a smirk, a mocking expression, but today there is nothing but sincerity in her eyes.
I'm almost sorry that I have to do this to you, Cid. It's amazing the way you've come back to the ring after being away for, what, ten years? Eleven? I'm not even sure. You proved yourself almost immediately, despite the doubts and skepticism tossed at your feet. If you hadn't aligned yourself with Asher Hayes and Holly Adams, if you had fought your way up and won the World Champion on your own merit rather than being handed it by a screwjob that was actually a failure.... you would deserve this. You would be a real World Champion, and maybe in that case the weight of it wouldn't be so crushing. You would have the confidence that we've seen you struggle to find, because you would know that you earned it.
Unfortunately that's not what happened and this is why you're in the predicament you find yourself in, babe. The burden is too heavy because you know you don't deserve this position, not in the way you fell into it. You're talented enough for it, you can go toe to toe with almost anyone on the roster... and maybe sometime in the future, once you've distanced yourself from the people who are using you... you will earn it. But for the time being, after I beat you, you can rest easy knowing the World Championship will be in good hands. Hands that have carried it before, with pride and honor.
After I do this... save you from yourself, save the World Championship from the possibility of falling into the hands of someone who didn't earn it and has no respect for it... and after your so-called friends drop you like a hot brick because you can no longer do anything for them... I hope you open your eyes to their true nature, and walk away. Be your own man, Cid. Do what you know is right. You know what they are doing to you is wrong, I know you do! I can see it. You will have so much more confidence and respect for yourself when you leave them behind and do things your own way.
When you do, I won't expect a thank you. A handshake out of respect will suffice, and I will give you a very heartfelt 'you're welcome.' You might not think so, Cid, because of all the things I've just said, but I do respect you. You just need to respect yourself, and I don't think you can do that as long as you are World Champion and these people continue to use you.
Bree pauses for a few seconds, debating with herself if she's going to say the thought that's on her mind. With a short breath and a nod, she goes with it.
I know I have caused more than my fair share of problems in SCW, I can be a handful, I have a short temper and an attitude. But if I can do this.... if I can beat Cid, become World Champion a third time... I can then at least start to try to fix some of the problems that exist in this company.
So... happy birthday Cid. I hope you enjoy your gift.... freedom from your burden.