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Post by Devon Ryder on May 22, 2023 21:41:04 GMT -5
Act One: Aftermath…
“Devon?”
Tick… tick… tick…
Everything is broken.
My back aches. My head is throbbing. The backs of my eyes pulse with every beat of my weary, worn-out heart, creaky joints groaning in pain and protest as I force them through their post-match stretches. Every breath I take is agony.
Inhale.
I am sitting in my locker room, but I do not recall bringing myself here. I am vaguely aware of my surroundings, but I am not really present. Devon Ryder's BODY may be standing in his locker room, stretching after a grueling competition, but his mind? His… soul? The actual essence of the person that I am? That man is still at ringside, lying in a thousand shattered pieces upon the sweat-stained mats, stunned and overwhelmed, staring at the hot lights ringed white with misty haloes by the tears pooling in his eyes. THAT man… has been broken.
Exhale.
So how did I get… here? It seems my mind and body have been… disconnected. I have been this way before; it is a typical response when undergoing trauma. In this moment, as a shelter from the pain, I have become something hollow. Empty. A vessel, moving independently of its pilot to carry out the pre-programmed routines in the event of a catastrophe.
Catastrophe.
That is precisely what I have experienced. There is no better word for it. I have tumbled headlong into catastrophe, and my entire being - the fiction I have built that calls itself “Devon Ryder” - was irrevocably shattered. I am nothing now. Dust, scattered in the breeze. A hut of straw and clay, annihilated by the force of a cruel and unrelenting hurricane. I tried to shore up my foundations; to pretend, against all evidence, that I could be okay - that I WAS okay… but it was all a lie. I never moved on. I did not “get over” the most traumatic heartbreak that I have experienced. Crashing did not come as a surprise - it was the only possibility. I have been so barely held together, so desperately attempting to hang on to this raft I built out of sticky tape and prayers, that I knew this was inevitable. This… disaster. This catastrophe. The storm that broke my levee, and washed away my every ounce of strength, drowning me completely in the flood.
Hurricane Desiree.
Tick… tick… tick…
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Act Two: Moving On
“Devon? Are you listening?”
Tick… tick… tick…
Eyes open.
*I still can’t fully believe that she stands before me now. Desiree. The woman whom I never expected to see again when she so publicly walked out of my life all those months ago. The woman over whom I had agonized so many long and lonely nights, wracked with sobs and inconsolable, mourning everything we had with everything I had. The woman who drove me to my limit - who saw the best in me and drew it out, who showed me exactly what I was capable of when I fully believed in myself. The woman who picked me up when I was at my lowest, who rebuilt my heart out of titanium and steel and reforged me into something unbreakable… and the woman who, just as nonchalantly, broke me.*
“Devon? I’m sorry, but we need to talk…”
*She is still speaking now. I know I need to focus, but everything is… muddled. Sluggish. Wrong. My mind moves as if encumbered - I am thinking through six feet of sludge. Engulfed. I have not felt this way for quite some time. Last time, there was one human being who managed to pull me out of it… now, she’s the one who put me there.*
“Desi, I…”
*She talks over me.*
“No. Just listen now, okay?”
*A pause. I try to find the words to fill it, but they fail me in this moment. She continues.*
“Devon, I KNOW how you must feel. I understand that big, beautiful brain is probably running in a million different directions all at once, but I need you to be calm now. What I need to say is important, and you need to hear it."
*Another pause. I NEED to say something - every synapse SCREAMS at me to somehow cut her off, find some kind of witty retort…*
"I…”
“No, Devon. No. For once in your life, just listen.”
*Too late. As ever.*
“I know how things ended between us was not pleasant. I cried for days afterwards and I was the one who walked away - I can only imagine how bad it felt for you. But you have to understand, what I did was for the best. We weren’t compatible, Devon, not REALLY - we were only gonna make each other worse. We were too mismatched, we wanted different things from life. I KNOW what we had was good, I felt it too - the love I had for you, how happy you made me, all of that was wonderful, but it… it had to go, Devon. It wasn’t sustainable. How would life have worked with you on the road all the time? With my dreams, my ambitions, the support I would have needed - how could we have ever made that work?”
*She pauses again, allowing me some space to think. The words find me, finally, but they are weak. Uncertain. Water piddling pathetically from an underpowered fountain.*
“I would’ve stayed, if you had asked…”
“But I COULDN’T ask you that, Devon - you KNOW I couldn’t! This sport, this business, it’s all you’ve ever wanted - the only thing you’ve ever dreamed about. How could I EVER expect you to give that up, even for us? It wouldn’t have been fair.”
*This was it. The push. The final straw I needed to bring me back into myself - into the moment. All the questions, all the insecurities, coalesce into a burning light of anger that blazes through the fog.*
“Fair? FAIR? Fair would have been giving me the CHOICE, Desiree! Letting ME decide how I wanted to live, which PATH I wanted to take! You say you wanted what was BEST for me, but you never even wanted us to talk about it!”
*I pause, this time, but not long enough to allow her space. This is MY moment now. The meeting I’ve been aching for.*
“I had to BEG you to even have a conversation with me all those months ago, and now you just… waltz back in here wanting to ‘chat’? To tell me that it’s actually GOOD you broke my heart? That you left me lying in broken pieces on the mat, abandoned me to tape the fragments of my being back together shard by fucking shard to BENEFIT me somehow?”
*I inhale. When my voice next leaves my lips, it startles me. I did not expect it to be a growl.*
“Why?”
*She looks at me sideways, confusion written plainly on her face.*
“What do you mean ‘why’? I just TOLD you, silly-”
“No, Desi. I mean why did you come BACK?”
*Now her voice startles me. The confusion is replaced by vitriol.*
“Because I CARE about you, Devon, and I won’t let you fucking KILL yourself!”
*I sputter. Her forthrightness takes me by surprise, and I lose the words again.*
“And don’t for a SECOND try to tell me that isn’t what you’ve been trying to do ever since I walked away; I’ve been WATCHING your matches, Devon, I’ve SEEN the things you’re doing to yourself! It has to STOP. I thought that I was doing you a favour when I walked away without a word - when I ignored your messages, I told myself that it was all for your own good. But I see now that you NEEDED some sort of closure. You needed things to be direct, or you were just going to stew, to dwell in the wreckage and think about what might have been. What you could have done differently. But the truth is, you couldn’t have done anything. It was my choice to leave and you couldn’t have changed it.”
*She pauses again. I think she’s giving me a chance to reply, but I have nothing. I let her continue.*
“So I had to come back. To see you. To GIVE you this closure, this final farewell, because you WERE stewing, Devon - you PRETENDED to get over things, get over ME, but I think we both know it wasn’t true. It’s why you’ve DONE these things to yourself - why you’ve been putting your body on the line, risking your life and your career even as you’ve found somebody who seems to love you more truly than even I ever could have. You could have something WONDERFUL now, Devon - you could BE something wonderful - but you’ve been ignoring everything. Fixating. On me.”
“On us.”
“Exactly! But there IS no ‘us’, Devon - and there hasn’t been for a very long time. I need you to see that, I need you to KNOW that, so you can finally move on. So you can finally STOP doing these horrible things to yourself, stop PUNISHING yourself for something you didn’t do!”
*There’s another pause. Longer, now. Pregnant. Her eyes gaze over me expectantly, seeking… something. A reply? Confrontation? An attempt to… justify myself? My head is spinning, I feel like I’m drowning once again… but this time, I don’t need a lighthouse. We have been stranded here before, Devon - and we know the way back home by now. My eyes snap open and I fix my gaze on hers. I have one thing to say now - only one thought that could possibly cross my mind.*
“So all those months of pain, of suffering - the moment when you left me… it wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough?”
“No, Devon! No! That’s what you need to understand. Good isn’t a thing you ARE; good is a thing that you DO. So what are YOU going to do?”
*A beat. In an instant, I understand. The fog clears once again, a beam of light shining from the heavens to illuminate my psyche. There is no ocean here - and I have not been stranded. It’s just me. It’s always been me. And I know what I must do.*
“The thing that I do best…”
*A beat. I place my feet upon dry land, rotate on my heels and make my way towards the door. Before I hear it slam, I cast one last glance over my shoulder. One last glance towards the past, before I leave it all behind.*
“Thank you, Desiree. For everything.”
*The door clangs shut, putting a full stop on the sentence.*
“Thank you… and goodbye.”
Tick… tick… tick…
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Act Three: Resurrection
“So, I keep having this dream…"
*The sound of a steadily-ticking clock greets our ears as the shot slowly fades into view. We find ourselves in familiar surroundings, staring out of a huge picture window at the skyline of Ottawa, Ontario. A solitary wooden kitchen chair sits before us, its frame occupied by that of PWS: Apex PURE Champion, "Unbreakable" Devon Ryder. He wears a plain burgundy t-shirt with dark blue jeans, both utterly devoid of visible logos or branding. The Canadian Hero locks eyes with the camera, his face an odd kind of sheepish grin.*
“Deja vu, eh? I know. But this dream is… different from the last one. I still ascend and stand before the gods, I still beseech them with a question, but this time? This time I do not ask them why I died so young, I do not beg them for more time; THIS time, I ask them only one thing. Staring into their cold, judgmental eyes, face-to-face with fate itself, there is only one thing on my lips:”
*A beat. Devon’s grin has vanished, replaced with a serious and pensive look.*
“Was I… Enough?”
*Another pause. Another beat.*
“They stare at each other for a long, agonizing time - deliberating, discussing, speaking amongst themselves in whispers that could shatter mountains… and then, they turn their eyes on me.”
“‘Child,’ the first god speaks, ‘Did you do your best?’”
“I nod at them.”
“‘Then that will ALWAYS be Enough.’”
*Here, Devon pauses longer, allowing the silence to grow deafening to punctuate his story. He hangs his head and sighs a heavy sigh, although there is no sorrow in it. It is a weary sound - tired, world-worn, but little more than that. Slowly, flipping his hair away from his face, Devon looks back into the camera.*
“Hey, Nadia…”
*Devon pauses, a thoughtful expression on his face as he softly rubs his jaw.*
“So this is what it’s come to, eh?”
*Another pause. He shrugs his shoulders.*
“I… suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Ordinary couples have arguments, trade words, go to bed angry, but wrestling couples? There’s really only one way that we ever solve disputes…”
*Devon pauses once again, his lips curling into a smirk as he exhales sharply through his nose - not quite a laugh, but an expression of amusement.*
“I really was honest with you, honey. I hope you understand that. Every single thing I said, all the words we shared on Twitter and backstage in the arenas, I never tried to mislead you or to gaslight you - I really, truly did believe that Desiree was here to help me. That maybe, somehow, through ALL the bullshit and the trauma she inflicted on me, there could be some kind of… I don’t know, closure? Reconciliation? I think it was too much to expect that we’d get back together, but I thought that MAYBE…”
*There is another brief pause. Devon’s expression takes on an almost bitter, wistful note.*
“Well, it doesn’t matter now. What matters now is that it’s over. Finally. Completely. Desiree de La Roche is no more a part of Devon Ryder’s life than she is a member of the Wu-Tang Clan - and, honestly, I’m feeling so much lighter in the wake of it. I wanted to be angry - and I was, at first. I wanted to resent her, to fight, to throw everything she put me through RIGHT back in her face, make her feel every single DROP of pain she inflicted upon me… but what would be the point? What do we GAIN from holding onto hatred? When we wallow in that anger, that pain, what does it really GET us? I used to think there could be power in it - and, at times, perhaps there is. We have certainly seen people like ANTITHESIS put their pain to great use… but what are they really doing for themselves? Their anger may inspire violence, it may drive them to commit ruthless, underhanded acts in order to get ahead - it may bring them some measure of ‘success’ - but how do we DEFINE that? Is winning matches really such a victory if you cannot bear to face yourself for having done so? If you cannot win them based on SKILL, but only based on how many WEAPONS you were willing to use to get ahead?”
*A pause. Devon smirks into the camera, briefly - a glimmer of his trademark arrogance glinting in his eyes.*
“I have no more use for their brand of useless rage. I will not claim I am above such feelings; indeed, I am more than capable of anger, and at times, I feel it quite strongly. But the difference is that MY anger is cosmic; it is VAST and EXISTENTIAL, and it is based on empathy. Not hatred. I want to change this system - I NEED to change this system - but I never lose sight of why I want to do it. I do not have any kind of vendetta - I am not seeking vengeance for a poisoned childhood - I only seek to make life better for those this world has left behind. And I know you understand that, Nadia - it’s the reason that I’m WITH you, the thing that DREW me to you in the first place. But what you do not understand is where we’ve both been WRONG.”
*Devon pauses here, for just a brief moment.*
“You told me, a few weeks ago, that the Canadian Hero was something I believed in - that I started doing this because I had a message to convey. And maybe, at some point, that was true. But I’ve done a lot of thinking since I saw Desiree again - a lot of searching, of examining my mind and my soul - and I’ve finally come to realize… I simply cannot CALL myself a Hero while calling myself Canadian. The two are fundamentally incompatible. The things that my country has DONE - the things that it CONTINUES to do - to oppress and annihilate its indigenous peoples, the peoples who were SLAUGHTERED and STOLEN FROM to FOUND this fucking nation, cannot by any stretch be called ‘Heroic’. Now, does this mean I need to disavow it in its entirety? I have no idea. Perhaps it is possible to embody the spirit of the nation without endorsing its reality. Perhaps I can call myself a Canadian Hero based on what my country SHOULD be rather than what it IS. But honestly? I’m not even sure I want to…”
*Another pause, and Devon glares directly down the camera lens.*
"Because I don’t NEED to be a Hero. Not anymore. Frankly, I’m not sure I ever did. I suspect that what I needed was validation - to be told that what I’m doing is Enough. That I am the Best. But… that’s the thing about the word ‘best’ - it’s a comparative. An adjective. There is no single objective 'Best' that I can be - I can only be the best in a category. My father told me, quite some time ago, that it doesn’t matter what you do in life, as long as you’re the best at it. For a while, I think I misunderstood him. Because I took that to mean that I need to be the best no matter what I’m doing - that in anything and everything I pursue, I must be the Best. But that’s not realistic… and that’s what Desiree was trying to teach me. That’s what I couldn’t get you to understand. That the only thing I need to be is the very best Devon Ryder I can be.”
*Another pause. Devon’s glare continues to fix on the camera as his lips curl into an arrogant smirk.*
“And that’s good, because the best Devon Ryder is the best wrestler in the entire world! The defining performer of his or ANY generation! The BEST Devon Ryder that I can be is the Devon Ryder who WINS. MATCHES. The Devon Ryder who WINS. TITLES. The BEST Devon Ryder is the Devon Ryder who can endure physical and mental AGONY and KEEP. FUCKING. FIGHTING."
*Devon pauses, rising from his chair during his previous rant, punctuating the sentence by pounding the faceplate of the PURE title three times. He takes a moment, now, breathing deeply and collecting his thoughts.*
"So I want to thank you, Nadia. Because this is exactly what I needed. This conflict. This fight. Because that's always BEEN my superpower, hasn't it? I'm the one who rises to the challenge. Who CRAVES the competition - one soul, testing itself against another. Because THAT is what I’m best at. That is what I DO. No matter WHAT else happens, no matter HOW much I suffer, the one thing that remains constant is that Devon Ryder is STILL the BEST. WRESTLER. In the WORLD. Le Meilleur Du Monde! And nobody - not you, not Desiree de La Roche, not a SINGLE FUCKING LIVING, BREATHING HUMAN BEING, is EVER going to take that from me!”
*Devon pauses again, slinging the PURE title over his shoulder.*
“See ya in the ring, babe.”
*He grins and winks into the camera lens, before turning and walking towards the apartment door as the Guess Who’s “American Woman” plays him off. We hold for a moment, then fade to black.*
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Post by Nadia Lawson on May 23, 2023 0:54:13 GMT -5
~💸~💸~💸~💸~💸~💸~💸~💸~💸~💸~💸~ Nadias Hotel Room Instagram video May 21th 2023 Nadia had been trying to find the words to say for weeks, but what could she really say to a man who seemed to have his heart set on ending what they had. She hadn't returned home to the house they bought, knowing that the pain would be too great. She stayed with her parents in Detroit for a few weeks, before heading to Boston for the show. Once settled into her hotel, she started her Instagram up and decided that this was all she would speak about on the matter. "So as you guys know, as you all have seen for weeks, it seems that Devon's former lady of love returned, causing mayhem and wrecking our plans. I know I've been pretty silent online and for good reason my darlings. I needed to focus, to get my mind in the game and now, I'm ready. I don't have much time to record this, but I wanted to say a little something, because I was always taught that just giving up, isn't healthy. And I thin I could have loved him and if this is the only way to show him that.. then so be it. I'll fight him. It's true I said it in anger, but it's lit that fire inside him that Desiree had managed to snuff out with her betrayal."Nadia took a deep breath, her heart thudding in her chest knowing that either of them could be hurt if not both by the end of the match and she needed to make him understand WHY she did it. "Devon, I know you can hear this, I know if you aren't hearing it now, you'll see it later. But I never wanted it to go down this road. I never wanted to fight you, but it's clear that is what needs to happen. It's possible that after this match, once you find who you really are, we can start over. Right now, the focus must be on proving that you are who you've always been. You are a great man and a talented wrestler. But you allowed that harlot to twist your mind, you allowed her to destroy what we had. Right as it was really getting started. I should be standing out there supporting you, not facing you. This isn't Antithesis and we are not the Sanders couple. But as I threw out the challenge, I will most likely wind up falling at your feet and begging you to end the match."She took a deep breath, hating that she had let him get so deep inside her mind and heart that she was now the one that was twisted up and feeling destroyed inside. "You see Devon, I thought there was more between us. That you would trust me when I told you that she was just here to twist up your mind again, however, I see that it was in vain, because you still trusted her. You stood there and let her back in, hoping what? That you two could fix things? That what we'd have a threesome? Baby I don't share. Because everything you see here, isn't about sharing. However, you want to think of it, she managed to drive a wedge between us and look where it has landed us baby.. in the muck.. acting like two teenage children. We are no better than the edgy emo Sanders couple. You make it seem like you care, but really, it's always been about what Devon wants. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. Then lick it up baby.."She takes one last moment to pause. "Because win or lose tonight, I'm still that bitch and you nor Desiree can take that from me.. baby.." She blows a kiss at the camera and kills the feed.
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