|
Post by .::Beauty::. on Aug 26, 2010 3:01:16 GMT -5
[Single Match] Natalie Burrows Vs. Alistair Ambrosia
Limit: 2 Each Maximum First Deadline: Monday August 30th 11:59pm EST Final Deadline: Tuesday August 31st at 11:59pm EST Kirsten Shelley: In one of the greatest matches in TGW history, Burrows was mere moments from becoming TGW Champion but a kickout and a few minutes later things turned. In a photo finish she showed why she deserved to be in the match at No Limits. Ambrosia looked convincing in his win against Franchise and looks to continue his climb up the ladder. Who's going to come out on top?
|
|
|
Post by kris on Aug 30, 2010 18:34:44 GMT -5
Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long... Mom..?Natalie's voice is soft, concerned as she steps into the small cottage her mother had moved into a few years ago. Everything had seemed fine when the taxi dropped her off out front - the lawn freshly mown, the flower beds maintained, the siding in pristine condition - but as she ascended the white-washed stairs, she had noticed that the front door wasn’t closed all the way. Calling the police would have been the sensible thing to do, the right thing in a potentially dangerous situation if one listened to the personal safety tips that were on the news. Instead of following the pull of practicality and logic, emotion wins out, guiding the Southern Belle into the familiar space of the living room… although it wasn't all that familiar anymore. If anything, it looked distorted, twisted into an alien landscape by the empty bottles and ashtrays that have overtaken tasteful florals and soothing tones of blue and cream, dark stains of an unknown variety marring the plush beige carpeting underfoot. The air, already overbearing with the smells of alcohol and smoke and an acrid note that Natalie couldn't quite place, becomes downright oppressive with the addition of summer's humid heat. It takes all of her self-control to not add the unpleasantness of her own vomit to the mix, a hard swallow forcing the bile back down into her stomach where it belonged. Cautiously - for she always had to tread cautiously when it came to the woman that brought her into the world - she descends further into the chaos, fighting against the instinct to flee in the name of making sure that her lone surviving kin was still breathing. At first, the only sign of life that she sees are houseflies that have begun properly settling into a space that is surely a nirvana for them… but as she rounds the corner, what Natalie sees is enough to cause her stomach to tie itself into knots, a gasp escaping her lips that slips past her hand with ease.
Sprawled out, face-down, like a puppet with its strings sliced in the middle of the kitchen floor… is her worst nightmare.
The panic that threatens to crush the Southern Belle instead spurs her into motion, all propriety left far behind as she rushes to her mother's side. It isn't until Natalie is kneeling on the dirt-sticky linoleum that she notices how Angela's sides are subtly rising and falling beneath that stained t-shirt, dirty blond hair swaying under the modest force of Angela's breath. Relief rushes over her in a wave as she gently moves the stick-straight strands out of the way of the features that DNA carried from mother to daughter. The light touch is all it takes to rouse the elder Burrows from her drunken stupor, her words slurred and labored beneath the weight of one too many.What're… what're ya doin' here?! Ain't I tol' ya… tol' ya to...A vague waving of her arm and Angela manages to brush Natalie's hand away from her, planting her hand and laboriously pushing herself up onto her knees. The Southern Belle is quick to move to help her, ignoring the stench of unwashed skin and spilled liquor - and also the feeble attempts made to dissuade her that her mother makes. It isn't until they are both standing that the elder Burrows woman opens her eyes properly, bloodshot whites and watery green irises narrowing in irritation as she glares over at her only child.Gitcher'hands offa me, girl! I don'… I don' need yer help!Shoving herself away from Natalie, Angela takes all of two steps forward before her knees buckle, the Southern Belle saving her from tumbling by the barest of margins. Looping one of her mothers' arms over her shoulders, Natalie keeps her knees bent so that she remains low enough to serve as a proper support. Even though her arm weighs maybe five or six pounds, it feels like the weight of the world itself is what the blond is doing her best to supportC'mon, Mom… you need to lay down.I don' need to do shit, girl, an' ya don' have the right t'even try to tell me that I do! I brought yer… yer ungrateful ass into this world, ya little bitch, an' ya bes' believe I'll take ya out!Even if she should be used to the abuse by now, even though she's done her darndest to convince herself that her mother didn't mean the hurtful things she said when she was three sheets to the wind and ensnared in past pains and loss… each and every word that left Angela's lips cut deeply, leaving wounds that would likely never quite heal. Tears begin to collect in the corners of Natalie's eyes as she faintly trembles, forcing herself to swallow down the pain and beginnings of anger that she wouldn't-- that she couldn't! -- come to grips with. The Southern Belle holds fast to her duty to be a supporting daughter as if her sanity depends on it, gently guiding her mother across the battlefield where she fought a losing war against her demons on a daily basis.N-Now Mom, you don't mean that--An' how woul' ya know that, girl?! Ya don' know nothin' 'bout the trouble you caused me!Hearing that caused part of her soul to start screaming at the top of its lungs in protest, giving Angela the earful that she deserved. The trouble that Natalie caused? What about the sleepless nights that her mother had forced her daughter to have, the never-ending fear of getting a phone call about Angela passing away in some back alley somewhere-- Heck, what about the fact that the woman that had once kissed her knees when she scraped them back when she was a child had become the sort of monster that her father would have done everything in his power to protect his daughter from?! Those inner protests and screams of fury don't even get the chance to express themselves in the Southern Belle's eyes, she's forcing them down that hard with a desperation that she had become all too familiar with as of late. Feeling that way wasn't going to solve anything, she told herself… although there was a small voice at the very back of her mind that asked just how taking the abuse was supposed to be any better. The younger blond sighs softly, resigning herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do beyond helping her mother toward a place where she would be receptive to the idea of help.I'm s-sorry, Mom… I'm just trying to make sure that you're okay.A non-commital grunt is the only response she gets for trying to extend that olive branch, an uncomfortable silence following it as Natalie manages to navigate the veritable minefield of broken bottles and cigarette butts into her mother's bedroom. Compared to the living room and the kitchen, the room where Angela sleeps is a safe haven, free of the vast majority of glass and plastic and Lord-only-knows-what-else that had placed a stranglehold on the rest of the house… although the beginning vestiges of encroaching darkness have begun to show in the corners. Wrestling the sheets back with one arm, Natalie manages to gently nudge her mother into sitting on the bed, moving with the same carefulness as she lifts first one, then the other foot up so that she can swivel Angela into some semblance of a proper sleeping position. Tucking in her mother much like she had once been tucked in when she was a child, Natalie leans over and kisses Angela's sweat-slicked forehead.There… all settled in. Now isn't that more comfortable than the kitchen floor?Why th'fuck didn' ya lissen t'me?! I tol' ya that I was… that I was fine! Ya used to be a smart girl, Natalie-- th'Hell happened t'ya?Natalie's shoulders slump before she crosses the room, turning on the air conditioner window-unit that had seen better days in the hopes of making it a little more bearable for the woman that brought her into the world. She had tried to convince her mother into letting her buy her a new one or maybe have central air installed, but it had proven to be an uphill battle that she hadn't been able to win. That seemed to be the theme, as of late, when it came to Angela; even the tiniest of victories was being denied her, failure after failure after failure dragging her further and further away from the possibility of recovering the lost relationship between her and her mother.I--Git out o'here an' go back t'yer fancy house, the one that's gotcha' thinkin' that yer too good t'live with me.…yes, Mom.Her proverbial tail between her legs, Natalie heeds her mother's wishes, her strides carrying her to the doorway. The thought of making the walk down to where the cab she had used to get to her mother's house was one that she wasn't looking forward to making. Not because she was ashamed of what Angela was going through, mind… more that she was angry at herself for not having the know-how needed to make her mother want to recover, to make her want to fight her way through the darkness of grief and liquor to emerge in the light on the other side. Being all too keenly aware of how helpless she was in the situation, she sighs before starting to take that first step into the living room.Before y'go, though...For a moment, Natalie's heart begins to rise, her head turning to look at her mother. The promise of actually getting a teeny morsel of affection that she had been starved for for so very, very long causes her to hope against hope--Getcher'… get Robbie in here fer me.…only to be crushed beneath her mother's last words as she loses all touch with reality, not to mention consciousness. For a moment, the Southern Belle considers picking up the cordless phone that sits on the bedside table closest to her and calling for help, reaching out to one of the Alcoholics Anonymous groups that were in the area… but they would be just as powerless as she is, since there was no way that they could force Angela to do anything she didn't want to do. Instead, Natalie simply nods and leaves her mother to rest, the foolish, childlike hope that she would magically return to the lively and loving woman she once was breathing its last… leaving nothing but despair and fear in its wake.No matter what I say or do, I'll still feel you here… 'til the moment I'm gone.
|
|