Post by Caroline O'Hara Burchill on Dec 4, 2016 10:49:45 GMT -5
OOC:
Catch that Outkast reference tho?
Anyway, this is a mash up of three pieces I've written that are my personal favorites. I know, I know. I'm always posting this one, but honestly? I love it. Yes, Caroline always had a huge ego, and I will definitely write more CD pieces that goes into her background a bit more. Some of you might have read it already, but it's my fav, so.... yeah. Lol. Still, for those of you who haven't read it before, enjoy! (Hopefully)
// February 13th, 2015.
// New York City.
Her pace now reached a maddening rush as she walked with great haste, slithering in between the dawdling mass of anonymous figures that stood in her way. A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of her right eye; her mouth forming a rigid grimace with each glance she made at the diamond-studded Michael Kors watch she had on her wrist. Finally reaching the main entrance of the towering building, Caroline pushed herself past through the revolving doors and continued on with her frantic pace into the lobby.
Her eyes nearly widened and popped out of her skull as she saw that the elevator was about to close. With every fiber of her body and the last bit of energy that she could muster up from within herself, Caroline quickly made a run for it and placed her hand in between the elevator doors, stopping them from closing. Caroline would've busted out singing "Hail Mary" as a sigh of relief passed through her lips and she entered the elevator, squeezing herself into a corner that had some space that was enough to fit her petite frame.
Like hail pouring down against a window pane, the drumming of Caroline's fingers was as relentless as it was loud. Each click of the french polished nails on the clutch purse echoed the tumultuous thudding of her heartbeat. Her face, rigid with tension, negate her youthfulness, as she seemed to have aged a decade in the past few hours of her mad dash trying to reach her interview on time.
She was one hour late, right on the dot.
With an audible ping!, the elevator ride (which seemed like an endless journey) finally came to an end and the doors opened. After the crowd of people dispersed and she was able to get out of the elevator, Caroline quickly made her way towards the end of the hall. She would be greeted by a blonde woman, arms folded and feet impatiently tapping against the wood flooring. The pursed lips of the woman looking straight at Caroline indicated that she was not in the best of moods.
She was none other than Amy Scottsfiern — Caroline's agent.
"Does 'be here on time' not mean anything to you? You're over an hour late, Burchill!"
"I know, I know! Will you just fucking chill? At least I actually went out of my way to roll out of bed and show up in the first place. I still don't feel well."
"The world doesn't revolve around you nor does it owe you anything. You realize that, right? We have to get to the interview room now. You've been keeping these people waiting for way too long now."
"Oh, no really? I thought that we were going to go out and get some ice cream, arm-in-arm as we skip down the yellow brick road."
"You're way too good at pissing people off. You really know how to irk someone to their very soul."
"It is just one of the many talents that I possess, and certainly more than you'll ever have."
Amy groaned as she opened a door, leading the two into the designated room that they were supposed to go and walked in. Almost instantaneously, Caroline would be greeted by the harsh brightness of flashing lights and a group of pesky reporters, shouting out all sorts of questions and remarks to Caroline. However, she paid them no mind and simply sat down at the lounge chair that was right across from the person who would be conducting the interview -- Steve Sayors.
Sayors appeared to be a bit uncomfortable as he shifted nervously in his chair, his hands intertwined with each other repeatedly as he fidgeted with them. Maybe it was the presence of Caroline herself or the bravado that she exude... whatever it may be, Steve was a bit apprehensive about her. Caroline couldn't help but to arch a slender eyebrow at Sayors; the same french tip nails tapping lightly on the armrest of the chair. Her eyes were piercing like daggers as she waited impatiently, making Steve gulp. Luckily for Sayors, his saving grace would come to his much-needed aid as Sayors was given the cue by one of the camera crew people. Steve nodded and brought his attention over to look directly at the camera. One of the crew members began to count down.
"Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome as we bring to you an exclusive interview being broadcasted live on XWF.com. My guest here with me is perhaps one of the most controversial wrestlers in the world today, albeit in recent memory: Caroline O'Hara Burchill. An indy standout, Caroline was signed by the head officials of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation back in October and is now scheduled to compete in the main event of Monday Night Madness as one of the eight participants in a Gauntlet match to determine who will be the number one contender for Gator's Television Championship."
Steve looked over at Caroline, who in turn smiled at him as the camera shot panned over to her.
"It must be a little nerve-wracking for you as you are going to be competing against seven others for a shot a championship gold. After all, some may even argue that this is the most important match of your career. Aren't you nervous? What are your own thoughts right now as you are heading to this bout on Monday night?"
"Nervous? What is there to be nervous about? Ha! That is such a stupid question to ask. Of course I'm not nervous! I am actually flattered by the fact that my exemplary talents and superiority has given me the recognition that I deserve, far more than the rest of these ineffectual cock breathers that I am set to do battle with. What relevancy do they possess in this federation? What, do they expect people to be intimidated by them in the slightest bit? Should we even give two shits about any of these asinine, hemorrhoid fuck-faces? When I look at them, I see nothing more but pure nothingness. What exactly have these arse clowns accomplished in this federation, besides having people run their feet all over them? They are nothing more but a bunch of irrelevant, washed-up wastes that belong in the trash. At least they will be somewhere where they will actually fit in. I will take great pleasure in doing the honors by laying them out on the mat and pinning them, laughing right in their face as I see the great disappointment in their eyes. They will come to cruel realization that they aren't worth anything and so, they will sulk back to the locker room, crying like the pathetic little scums that they are. To think that any of them will reach the limelight is laughable at best. They aren't ready to reach the pinnacle point and become champion. Never have been and never will be. Try as they might, they will just fall back into the sad reality that they are losers and they will just continue to do what it is that they do best: losing."
"Wow, very strong remarks said there. Then again, you are infamous in your own right for being an unabashedly candid individual who isn't afraid to speak your mind. Still, I can't help but to think that you don't have a lot of respect for any of your fellow competitors."
"What, am I supposed to sugarcoat my words and act all sweet? Ha! No wonder you get pushed around here so much. You're so gullible that it's pathetic! Being nice and letting everyone run their feet all over on you isn't going to get you anywhere in life. Those who seek acceptance lack ambition. In today's society, people are ruthless and will stomp on you whenever the situation calls for it. You'll just be nothing more but a stepping stone; a pedestal for them so that they can climb higher and higher on the ladder of success. But meanwhile, what about you? You'll just remain at the bottom of the chain. Why? Is being a push over really worth it in the end? People seek out to accomplish goals for their own self interests and they definitely didn't play the "Be Nice!" card to get to where they are."
"But don't you want to... you know, garner the respect of your fellow competitors? Surely -- "
"No. They will just become a liability for me. They'll just hold me back from ever achieving what it is that I want. Besides, what will they do for you in the long run? What benefits are you gaining from them? Nothing at all. They are not worthy of my respect. They are all nothing more but a bunch of idiots that wish that can be on the same level as me. I'm a Queen: flawless and unattainable like a precious, rare gem. Meanwhile, they’re just a bunch of dirty little rocks that try to reach the same level of perfection. A group of worthless peasants that try to please the lords and the higher ups."
Sayors, along with the journalists there and even Amy herself looked shock as Caroline carried on with her impassioned speech.
"What, should I give a shit about any of them? Why should I, Caroline O’ Hara Burchill, even bat an eyelash at any one of these irrelevant fools that think that they can hang with the likes of me? They’re just a cluster of little kids desperately seeking acceptance and validation from the big kids when, quite frankly, none of them will ever never rise to the occasion. Not a single one at all. Next question."
"Well, we actually covered the main basis for this interview..."
"Really? Well then, that's excellent. I have other business that I need to tend to. Still, thank you for having me here, Mr. Sayors."
Without uttering another word, Caroline got up and walked out of the room. Amy, who was a little surprised by Caroline's sudden leave, walked quickly after her. Steve remained seated, a look of confusion plastered on his face as he watched the two women leave.
"Well... that was something else."
// February 15th, 2015
// New York City -- Caroline's Apartment
Caroline murmured to herself under a hefty sigh, pulling dark-brown locks back from her face to – rather carelessly – tie it back into a hair bun. Most of the apartment was clean now, especially her much beloved display case filled with the championships she won back in her glory indy days. However, she still had one task left at hand and that was her bedroom. Continuing with heavy distaste, Caroline approached her bedroom with cleaning utensils in hand.
Her room was almost like a teenager's; messy with bits and pieces scattered across surfaces with clothes lazily thrown on the floor, along with a few other miscellaneous items. Her bed hadn't been made as sheets and pillows laid messily on the mattress. Running a hand through the few escaped, messy pieces of brown tresses, Caroline sighed heavily and approached her bed. She went to lean over to grab the bed sheets and pull them off, however, she stubbed her toe on something hard and metallic under her bed. With a grunt of disapproval, she moved back to lean down and hold her foot, massaging the now reddened toe between her thumb and forefinger. Her eyes flickered upward to spot the metallic case, and soon everything became silent.
The case.
She hadn’t seen it for a while, never mind its contents. Within that moment time seemed to slow, and rather than seconds passing it felt like snow; falling flake by flake until gradually becoming overriding and unbearable, as if being blocked in by her silence. Slowly Caroline fell onto her knees, eyes never leaving the case for a single moment. Hands began to shake from the build-up of emotion inside, just staring stupidly. Cautiously, her hand reached forward to gently grasp the steel handle of the case and pull it close to her, before her bent knees. Another moment of stillness and silence fell over the room, as if everything had come to a standstill. A quivering hand hooked under the latch of the case and flicked it upward, very cautiously opening the box.
Inside were only three things; a small bracelet, and two pictures. The first Caroline picked up was a hand-drawn scribble, clearly an infant’s drawing. The picture in question was of a small girl with short, brown hair wearing a purple dress holding the hand of a taller woman with black hair in a ponytail in a blue dress, together walking in a flowery meadow with a smiling sun and big, fluffy clouds. Scribbled in green at the top of the picture was ‘I luv my mama’ in poor hand-writing, all done in crayon. Fingertips brushed over the still lumped markings of the crayons, smiling in a sorrowful manner at the childhood innocence which no longer lingered.
Carefully she put the picture back, and brought the other to her attention. This was different, a photograph to be exact, showing Caroline – roughly sixteen, judging by the horrendous shoulder-length dark brown hair she sported and the pesky pimples that surfaced themselves on her skin – grinning widely with a thumbs up and holding a large clump of cotton candy. Beside her was the same woman, this time with a long braid, smiling so brightly her eyes had become small arcs of zeal, with an arm wrapped around Burchill’s waist and her cheek pressed against her forehead. Her mother. Smiling and cheerful, the way Caroline always preferred to remember her. Despite the fond memory expressed in the photograph, all of the other not-so cherish-able memories began to flood into her mind.
Memories that she greatly preferred she didn't have to remember.
Caroline shook her head and placed the photograph back into its original confinement. A soft sigh passed through her lips as she pushed the case back underneath her bed before proceeding to tidy up her room. Once she was finished, however, a faint knock of the door resonated within the apartment. Startled at first, Caroline made her way towards the door and opened it slightly, peeking through the crack to see who it was. Her mouth became agape in shock and her eyes widened in disbelief upon the realization of who it was that was by the door.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
The male that was by the door simply shook his head and chuckled, seemingly amused by Caroline's shocked disposition. He placed his hands in his pockets, the small smirk that was on his face never fading for a second.
"Surprise, surprise. Thought that you would actually be a little nicer and give me a more welcoming response as opposed to that. Then again, you'll hardly ever change your ways."
Caroline stared at the male in a dumbfounded manner. However, as she was able to recollect herself, Caroline shook her head.
"What do you want, Matt?"
The male that stood before her was none other than Matt Kendrick: Caroline's ex-boyfriend and professional wrestler. He and Caroline knew each other when they were five and began dating when they were twelve. Many people said that their bond was inseparable due to how much the two truly loved each other. However, as Caroline's ego grew more and more progressive over the years, their relationship was beginning to have a major strain. The two finally called it quits four years ago after Caroline broke up with him on February 14th, the same day that Matt was planning to propose to her. Haven't seen him in quite some time, the young woman was clearly shocked. Matt, noticing this, couldn't help but to chuckle and shake his head.
"What is this? A baffled Caroline? My, oh my... this is all too amusing. Looks like someone finally got your trap shut for once. What a miracle!"
Within that instance, Caroline's expression quickly changed like a chameleon; shifting from shocked to serious with her eyes glaring at Matt. 0 to 100 real quick.
"Fuck you, Matt. Fuck you."
Matt couldn't help but to chortle out a laughter, shaking his head. He then spoke in a mocking tone, bowing his head down.
"I'm so sorry, my dearest queen. Please don't chop my head off! I never meant to upset you, m'lady!"
"You think that this is a joke, huh? Stop messing around and answer me already. Why are you here? What do you want?"
"What? Can't I just come by and visit you? Is that some kind of a crime now?"
"Obviously."
"Well, shit. Thanks for the warm welcome, Bunny."
"Don't fucking call me that."
A hinge of pink slowly crept into the cheeks of Burchill, who averted her gaze from Matt out of embarrassment. She huffed, folding her arms across her chest.
"You know that I've always hated that stupid nickname."
"N'aw, that's too bad. I actually like it! It suits you. You should've known that by now."
God, he knew how to push her buttons.
"I don't like it. Now, can you kindly do me a favor and go away? If you're just here to poke fun at me then I suggest that you be on your way promptly. I am not in the mood to deal with any of your nonsense."
"Actually, I did come over here to have a small chat with you. Man, what a bitch you've become."
Caroline's mouth opened to speak. However, before she could even utter out a single word, Matt already pushed himself past her and made is way into the living room. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Caroline marched over to where he was going. Matt would plop himself down on the couch, letting out a content sigh as he sunk into the comfy confinements of the cushions. Caroline murmured a few curse words under her breath, her frown becoming even more pronounced than before.
"You know, if you're going to sit on my couch at least be considerate enough to leave me some space. You don't need to hog it up with your fat ass."
"So, 198 pounds is considered to be fat now? Where did you get these bullshit standards from?"
"Just fucking move!"
Matt laughed, scooting himself over a side to give Caroline some space to sit down. However, once she was on the couch, his expression changed from playful to a more serious one. Noticing the sudden change in Matt's demeanor, Burchill quirked an eyebrow as she inquired:
"What's with the look?"
"Well...," Matt began with a sigh and a shrug. "I know you're probably tired of hearing this, but I want you to understand why this is serious."
"...Okay," Caroline said dumbfoundedly, genuinely confused as she crossed her arms to her chest and looked at him. "What is this all about?"
"Everyone back home is concerned about you and your recent behavior. We watched the promos you've done for that wrestling promotion you're working for. Your mom was especially taken aback by your attitude. You really changed a lot, Bunny. It's like you're an entirely different person--"
"Matt, for fucks sake. Don't start with this bullshit again."
Caroline shook her head, ready to get up. However, Matt continued to press on with his statements.
" 'Friends will only become a liability for me in the end'? Caroline, are you fucking serious? So having people that actually care about you and support you will only hold you back? What kind of nonsense is that to say? How can anyone sane enough even say some shit like that to begin with?!"
"You don't understand all of the pressure that I went through. I was always told to do this and that, say this and not that. And so I always had to put up this facade, smiling and being the 'girl next door' type of person. I had to be molded into this bull crap ideology of what a role model is and I was supposed to pander to you pathetic fucking wastes of flesh. I was supposed to fit into your ludicrous ideology of what 'perfection' should be."
"Caroline... are you absolutely nuts? Do you even realize the words that are coming out of your mouth right now? What has gotten into you?"
Just then, Caroline shot him a glare; eyes piercing at the man like icy daggers as she snapped at him. "Fuck you, Matt. I'm sorry that you guys were jealous of the success that I was obtaining that you guys had to stoop me down to your kind of level, but hey. It's not my fault! And everyone is saying how I'm having an ego trip? No, I'm not. You ineffectual scoundrels were holding me back because you guys realized how far more superior I was compared to the rest of you. All of you wished you were just like me! Face it, Matt. I've always been better than you."
Matt looked shocked. His eyes then softened and so did the tone in his voice. He finally asked, with equal parts hope and disappointment, "Why would I ever be envious of you? I was so proud of you. I loved you and I still do. Everyone wanted to see your wrestling career into what it is today, but you've become so arrogant and you've pushed the people that cared about you off to the side as if they were nothing."
All of a sudden Caroline quickly got up and, grabbing the glass that was on the coffee table, picked it up and smashed it down onto the hardwood flooring. Glass shards went flying about with some of them piercing themselves into the flesh of Caroline's hand. Within the midst of his speech, Matt abruptly stopped and looked on in horror as he saw the broken pieces of glass... and the droplets of the crimson ichor that came from Caroline's cuts. Burchill was breathing heavy, hands balling up into fists in rage. In a voice that she barely recognized as hers, she finally spoke.
"Get... the fuck... out."
Matt tried to utter out a word. but Caroline pointed her finger toward the door and yelled.
"GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!"
Matt got up and slowly made his way towards the door, all while avoiding eye contact with Caroline. He feigned off tears as he walked himself out of the apartment. Once he was gone, Caroline grabbed the pillow that was on the couch, put her face in it and screamed.
She just screamed and screamed.
Catch that Outkast reference tho?
Anyway, this is a mash up of three pieces I've written that are my personal favorites. I know, I know. I'm always posting this one, but honestly? I love it. Yes, Caroline always had a huge ego, and I will definitely write more CD pieces that goes into her background a bit more. Some of you might have read it already, but it's my fav, so.... yeah. Lol. Still, for those of you who haven't read it before, enjoy! (Hopefully)
PLEASE READ
Caroline,
Please, I cannot stress this enough. Don't be late for this interview. It is highly imperative that you show up on time as it won't look good on your part. Also, please be on your best behavior. No bitchy attitude. We definitely don't need a repeat of what happened last time and I sure as hell don't have the bail money this time around.
Please, I cannot stress this enough. Don't be late for this interview. It is highly imperative that you show up on time as it won't look good on your part. Also, please be on your best behavior. No bitchy attitude. We definitely don't need a repeat of what happened last time and I sure as hell don't have the bail money this time around.
- Amy
.
ulla
// February 13th, 2015.
// New York City.
Her pace now reached a maddening rush as she walked with great haste, slithering in between the dawdling mass of anonymous figures that stood in her way. A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of her right eye; her mouth forming a rigid grimace with each glance she made at the diamond-studded Michael Kors watch she had on her wrist. Finally reaching the main entrance of the towering building, Caroline pushed herself past through the revolving doors and continued on with her frantic pace into the lobby.
Her eyes nearly widened and popped out of her skull as she saw that the elevator was about to close. With every fiber of her body and the last bit of energy that she could muster up from within herself, Caroline quickly made a run for it and placed her hand in between the elevator doors, stopping them from closing. Caroline would've busted out singing "Hail Mary" as a sigh of relief passed through her lips and she entered the elevator, squeezing herself into a corner that had some space that was enough to fit her petite frame.
Like hail pouring down against a window pane, the drumming of Caroline's fingers was as relentless as it was loud. Each click of the french polished nails on the clutch purse echoed the tumultuous thudding of her heartbeat. Her face, rigid with tension, negate her youthfulness, as she seemed to have aged a decade in the past few hours of her mad dash trying to reach her interview on time.
She was one hour late, right on the dot.
With an audible ping!, the elevator ride (which seemed like an endless journey) finally came to an end and the doors opened. After the crowd of people dispersed and she was able to get out of the elevator, Caroline quickly made her way towards the end of the hall. She would be greeted by a blonde woman, arms folded and feet impatiently tapping against the wood flooring. The pursed lips of the woman looking straight at Caroline indicated that she was not in the best of moods.
She was none other than Amy Scottsfiern — Caroline's agent.
"Does 'be here on time' not mean anything to you? You're over an hour late, Burchill!"
"I know, I know! Will you just fucking chill? At least I actually went out of my way to roll out of bed and show up in the first place. I still don't feel well."
"The world doesn't revolve around you nor does it owe you anything. You realize that, right? We have to get to the interview room now. You've been keeping these people waiting for way too long now."
"Oh, no really? I thought that we were going to go out and get some ice cream, arm-in-arm as we skip down the yellow brick road."
"You're way too good at pissing people off. You really know how to irk someone to their very soul."
"It is just one of the many talents that I possess, and certainly more than you'll ever have."
Amy groaned as she opened a door, leading the two into the designated room that they were supposed to go and walked in. Almost instantaneously, Caroline would be greeted by the harsh brightness of flashing lights and a group of pesky reporters, shouting out all sorts of questions and remarks to Caroline. However, she paid them no mind and simply sat down at the lounge chair that was right across from the person who would be conducting the interview -- Steve Sayors.
Sayors appeared to be a bit uncomfortable as he shifted nervously in his chair, his hands intertwined with each other repeatedly as he fidgeted with them. Maybe it was the presence of Caroline herself or the bravado that she exude... whatever it may be, Steve was a bit apprehensive about her. Caroline couldn't help but to arch a slender eyebrow at Sayors; the same french tip nails tapping lightly on the armrest of the chair. Her eyes were piercing like daggers as she waited impatiently, making Steve gulp. Luckily for Sayors, his saving grace would come to his much-needed aid as Sayors was given the cue by one of the camera crew people. Steve nodded and brought his attention over to look directly at the camera. One of the crew members began to count down.
5...
4...
3...
2...
1!
"Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome as we bring to you an exclusive interview being broadcasted live on XWF.com. My guest here with me is perhaps one of the most controversial wrestlers in the world today, albeit in recent memory: Caroline O'Hara Burchill. An indy standout, Caroline was signed by the head officials of the Xtreme Wrestling Federation back in October and is now scheduled to compete in the main event of Monday Night Madness as one of the eight participants in a Gauntlet match to determine who will be the number one contender for Gator's Television Championship."
Steve looked over at Caroline, who in turn smiled at him as the camera shot panned over to her.
"It must be a little nerve-wracking for you as you are going to be competing against seven others for a shot a championship gold. After all, some may even argue that this is the most important match of your career. Aren't you nervous? What are your own thoughts right now as you are heading to this bout on Monday night?"
"Nervous? What is there to be nervous about? Ha! That is such a stupid question to ask. Of course I'm not nervous! I am actually flattered by the fact that my exemplary talents and superiority has given me the recognition that I deserve, far more than the rest of these ineffectual cock breathers that I am set to do battle with. What relevancy do they possess in this federation? What, do they expect people to be intimidated by them in the slightest bit? Should we even give two shits about any of these asinine, hemorrhoid fuck-faces? When I look at them, I see nothing more but pure nothingness. What exactly have these arse clowns accomplished in this federation, besides having people run their feet all over them? They are nothing more but a bunch of irrelevant, washed-up wastes that belong in the trash. At least they will be somewhere where they will actually fit in. I will take great pleasure in doing the honors by laying them out on the mat and pinning them, laughing right in their face as I see the great disappointment in their eyes. They will come to cruel realization that they aren't worth anything and so, they will sulk back to the locker room, crying like the pathetic little scums that they are. To think that any of them will reach the limelight is laughable at best. They aren't ready to reach the pinnacle point and become champion. Never have been and never will be. Try as they might, they will just fall back into the sad reality that they are losers and they will just continue to do what it is that they do best: losing."
"Wow, very strong remarks said there. Then again, you are infamous in your own right for being an unabashedly candid individual who isn't afraid to speak your mind. Still, I can't help but to think that you don't have a lot of respect for any of your fellow competitors."
"What, am I supposed to sugarcoat my words and act all sweet? Ha! No wonder you get pushed around here so much. You're so gullible that it's pathetic! Being nice and letting everyone run their feet all over on you isn't going to get you anywhere in life. Those who seek acceptance lack ambition. In today's society, people are ruthless and will stomp on you whenever the situation calls for it. You'll just be nothing more but a stepping stone; a pedestal for them so that they can climb higher and higher on the ladder of success. But meanwhile, what about you? You'll just remain at the bottom of the chain. Why? Is being a push over really worth it in the end? People seek out to accomplish goals for their own self interests and they definitely didn't play the "Be Nice!" card to get to where they are."
"But don't you want to... you know, garner the respect of your fellow competitors? Surely -- "
"No. They will just become a liability for me. They'll just hold me back from ever achieving what it is that I want. Besides, what will they do for you in the long run? What benefits are you gaining from them? Nothing at all. They are not worthy of my respect. They are all nothing more but a bunch of idiots that wish that can be on the same level as me. I'm a Queen: flawless and unattainable like a precious, rare gem. Meanwhile, they’re just a bunch of dirty little rocks that try to reach the same level of perfection. A group of worthless peasants that try to please the lords and the higher ups."
Sayors, along with the journalists there and even Amy herself looked shock as Caroline carried on with her impassioned speech.
"What, should I give a shit about any of them? Why should I, Caroline O’ Hara Burchill, even bat an eyelash at any one of these irrelevant fools that think that they can hang with the likes of me? They’re just a cluster of little kids desperately seeking acceptance and validation from the big kids when, quite frankly, none of them will ever never rise to the occasion. Not a single one at all. Next question."
"Well, we actually covered the main basis for this interview..."
"Really? Well then, that's excellent. I have other business that I need to tend to. Still, thank you for having me here, Mr. Sayors."
Without uttering another word, Caroline got up and walked out of the room. Amy, who was a little surprised by Caroline's sudden leave, walked quickly after her. Steve remained seated, a look of confusion plastered on his face as he watched the two women leave.
"Well... that was something else."
// February 15th, 2015
// New York City -- Caroline's Apartment
Caroline murmured to herself under a hefty sigh, pulling dark-brown locks back from her face to – rather carelessly – tie it back into a hair bun. Most of the apartment was clean now, especially her much beloved display case filled with the championships she won back in her glory indy days. However, she still had one task left at hand and that was her bedroom. Continuing with heavy distaste, Caroline approached her bedroom with cleaning utensils in hand.
Her room was almost like a teenager's; messy with bits and pieces scattered across surfaces with clothes lazily thrown on the floor, along with a few other miscellaneous items. Her bed hadn't been made as sheets and pillows laid messily on the mattress. Running a hand through the few escaped, messy pieces of brown tresses, Caroline sighed heavily and approached her bed. She went to lean over to grab the bed sheets and pull them off, however, she stubbed her toe on something hard and metallic under her bed. With a grunt of disapproval, she moved back to lean down and hold her foot, massaging the now reddened toe between her thumb and forefinger. Her eyes flickered upward to spot the metallic case, and soon everything became silent.
The case.
She hadn’t seen it for a while, never mind its contents. Within that moment time seemed to slow, and rather than seconds passing it felt like snow; falling flake by flake until gradually becoming overriding and unbearable, as if being blocked in by her silence. Slowly Caroline fell onto her knees, eyes never leaving the case for a single moment. Hands began to shake from the build-up of emotion inside, just staring stupidly. Cautiously, her hand reached forward to gently grasp the steel handle of the case and pull it close to her, before her bent knees. Another moment of stillness and silence fell over the room, as if everything had come to a standstill. A quivering hand hooked under the latch of the case and flicked it upward, very cautiously opening the box.
Inside were only three things; a small bracelet, and two pictures. The first Caroline picked up was a hand-drawn scribble, clearly an infant’s drawing. The picture in question was of a small girl with short, brown hair wearing a purple dress holding the hand of a taller woman with black hair in a ponytail in a blue dress, together walking in a flowery meadow with a smiling sun and big, fluffy clouds. Scribbled in green at the top of the picture was ‘I luv my mama’ in poor hand-writing, all done in crayon. Fingertips brushed over the still lumped markings of the crayons, smiling in a sorrowful manner at the childhood innocence which no longer lingered.
Carefully she put the picture back, and brought the other to her attention. This was different, a photograph to be exact, showing Caroline – roughly sixteen, judging by the horrendous shoulder-length dark brown hair she sported and the pesky pimples that surfaced themselves on her skin – grinning widely with a thumbs up and holding a large clump of cotton candy. Beside her was the same woman, this time with a long braid, smiling so brightly her eyes had become small arcs of zeal, with an arm wrapped around Burchill’s waist and her cheek pressed against her forehead. Her mother. Smiling and cheerful, the way Caroline always preferred to remember her. Despite the fond memory expressed in the photograph, all of the other not-so cherish-able memories began to flood into her mind.
Memories that she greatly preferred she didn't have to remember.
Caroline shook her head and placed the photograph back into its original confinement. A soft sigh passed through her lips as she pushed the case back underneath her bed before proceeding to tidy up her room. Once she was finished, however, a faint knock of the door resonated within the apartment. Startled at first, Caroline made her way towards the door and opened it slightly, peeking through the crack to see who it was. Her mouth became agape in shock and her eyes widened in disbelief upon the realization of who it was that was by the door.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
The male that was by the door simply shook his head and chuckled, seemingly amused by Caroline's shocked disposition. He placed his hands in his pockets, the small smirk that was on his face never fading for a second.
"Surprise, surprise. Thought that you would actually be a little nicer and give me a more welcoming response as opposed to that. Then again, you'll hardly ever change your ways."
Caroline stared at the male in a dumbfounded manner. However, as she was able to recollect herself, Caroline shook her head.
"What do you want, Matt?"
The male that stood before her was none other than Matt Kendrick: Caroline's ex-boyfriend and professional wrestler. He and Caroline knew each other when they were five and began dating when they were twelve. Many people said that their bond was inseparable due to how much the two truly loved each other. However, as Caroline's ego grew more and more progressive over the years, their relationship was beginning to have a major strain. The two finally called it quits four years ago after Caroline broke up with him on February 14th, the same day that Matt was planning to propose to her. Haven't seen him in quite some time, the young woman was clearly shocked. Matt, noticing this, couldn't help but to chuckle and shake his head.
"What is this? A baffled Caroline? My, oh my... this is all too amusing. Looks like someone finally got your trap shut for once. What a miracle!"
Within that instance, Caroline's expression quickly changed like a chameleon; shifting from shocked to serious with her eyes glaring at Matt. 0 to 100 real quick.
"Fuck you, Matt. Fuck you."
Matt couldn't help but to chortle out a laughter, shaking his head. He then spoke in a mocking tone, bowing his head down.
"I'm so sorry, my dearest queen. Please don't chop my head off! I never meant to upset you, m'lady!"
"You think that this is a joke, huh? Stop messing around and answer me already. Why are you here? What do you want?"
"What? Can't I just come by and visit you? Is that some kind of a crime now?"
"Obviously."
"Well, shit. Thanks for the warm welcome, Bunny."
"Don't fucking call me that."
A hinge of pink slowly crept into the cheeks of Burchill, who averted her gaze from Matt out of embarrassment. She huffed, folding her arms across her chest.
"You know that I've always hated that stupid nickname."
"N'aw, that's too bad. I actually like it! It suits you. You should've known that by now."
God, he knew how to push her buttons.
"I don't like it. Now, can you kindly do me a favor and go away? If you're just here to poke fun at me then I suggest that you be on your way promptly. I am not in the mood to deal with any of your nonsense."
"Actually, I did come over here to have a small chat with you. Man, what a bitch you've become."
Caroline's mouth opened to speak. However, before she could even utter out a single word, Matt already pushed himself past her and made is way into the living room. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Caroline marched over to where he was going. Matt would plop himself down on the couch, letting out a content sigh as he sunk into the comfy confinements of the cushions. Caroline murmured a few curse words under her breath, her frown becoming even more pronounced than before.
"You know, if you're going to sit on my couch at least be considerate enough to leave me some space. You don't need to hog it up with your fat ass."
"So, 198 pounds is considered to be fat now? Where did you get these bullshit standards from?"
"Just fucking move!"
Matt laughed, scooting himself over a side to give Caroline some space to sit down. However, once she was on the couch, his expression changed from playful to a more serious one. Noticing the sudden change in Matt's demeanor, Burchill quirked an eyebrow as she inquired:
"What's with the look?"
"Well...," Matt began with a sigh and a shrug. "I know you're probably tired of hearing this, but I want you to understand why this is serious."
"...Okay," Caroline said dumbfoundedly, genuinely confused as she crossed her arms to her chest and looked at him. "What is this all about?"
"Everyone back home is concerned about you and your recent behavior. We watched the promos you've done for that wrestling promotion you're working for. Your mom was especially taken aback by your attitude. You really changed a lot, Bunny. It's like you're an entirely different person--"
"Matt, for fucks sake. Don't start with this bullshit again."
Caroline shook her head, ready to get up. However, Matt continued to press on with his statements.
" 'Friends will only become a liability for me in the end'? Caroline, are you fucking serious? So having people that actually care about you and support you will only hold you back? What kind of nonsense is that to say? How can anyone sane enough even say some shit like that to begin with?!"
"You don't understand all of the pressure that I went through. I was always told to do this and that, say this and not that. And so I always had to put up this facade, smiling and being the 'girl next door' type of person. I had to be molded into this bull crap ideology of what a role model is and I was supposed to pander to you pathetic fucking wastes of flesh. I was supposed to fit into your ludicrous ideology of what 'perfection' should be."
"Caroline... are you absolutely nuts? Do you even realize the words that are coming out of your mouth right now? What has gotten into you?"
Just then, Caroline shot him a glare; eyes piercing at the man like icy daggers as she snapped at him. "Fuck you, Matt. I'm sorry that you guys were jealous of the success that I was obtaining that you guys had to stoop me down to your kind of level, but hey. It's not my fault! And everyone is saying how I'm having an ego trip? No, I'm not. You ineffectual scoundrels were holding me back because you guys realized how far more superior I was compared to the rest of you. All of you wished you were just like me! Face it, Matt. I've always been better than you."
Matt looked shocked. His eyes then softened and so did the tone in his voice. He finally asked, with equal parts hope and disappointment, "Why would I ever be envious of you? I was so proud of you. I loved you and I still do. Everyone wanted to see your wrestling career into what it is today, but you've become so arrogant and you've pushed the people that cared about you off to the side as if they were nothing."
All of a sudden Caroline quickly got up and, grabbing the glass that was on the coffee table, picked it up and smashed it down onto the hardwood flooring. Glass shards went flying about with some of them piercing themselves into the flesh of Caroline's hand. Within the midst of his speech, Matt abruptly stopped and looked on in horror as he saw the broken pieces of glass... and the droplets of the crimson ichor that came from Caroline's cuts. Burchill was breathing heavy, hands balling up into fists in rage. In a voice that she barely recognized as hers, she finally spoke.
"Get... the fuck... out."
Matt tried to utter out a word. but Caroline pointed her finger toward the door and yelled.
"GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!"
Matt got up and slowly made his way towards the door, all while avoiding eye contact with Caroline. He feigned off tears as he walked himself out of the apartment. Once he was gone, Caroline grabbed the pillow that was on the couch, put her face in it and screamed.
She just screamed and screamed.
