Post by Buck U Productions on Mar 18, 2016 20:21:54 GMT
(Off camera)
“Come on, Charlie, please open the door.”
I’m met by the infuriating sound of sobbing. This isn’t like her, locking herself in the washroom. Charlotte O’Neal is one of the strongest people I know. She’s never backed down from anyone and even had the courage to take me down with a tazer when I was completely out of control. I wouldn’t have made it this far without her strength and conviction. I firmly believe that there isn’t anything that could scare her, and yet here I am standing outside the door, begging for her to open it.
That little voice in my head, that I tell everyone is gone, whispers to me that I should bust down the door but I resist the urge. No, I need to give her space and let her come to me when she’s ready but that’s easier said than done. For now I just have to play the waiting game.
Realizing that I’m not going to do either of us any good by hanging around the door, I decide to go find something to distract myself. I stop by my father’s office, not to see him but to update his secretary, Angela, on Charlie’s status and to ask her to phone my psychiatrist for an appoint. I’ve been working too hard to put my life back together to let the voice inside me take over again.
Just as I’m about to walk away, the door to my father’s office opens up and Brute walks out. I resist the urge to punch him. I suspect that it’s his fault that Charlie’s feeling like this, if he hadn’t attacked Strange Brew, I doubt El Vainillo would have booked them in a match against my wife and me. I try to walk away but he grabs me by the shoulder and turns me around.
“I am Brute?”
Despite myself I yell, “What the fuck does that mean?”
I’ve known Brute my whole life and whether or not anyone believes us, we can actually understand him. It takes time and a good ear but once he catch the subtle tones to his voice, what he says is quite clear. Except for some reason, since I came back from the injury I haven’t been able to understand a word he says. Maybe I never could and only realized it now that I was on my path to sanity but what does it say about everyone else around here.
The shocked look on Brute’s face made me wish I could take my words back, but suddenly he smiled and beckoned me to follow him to an empty room. After making sure no one was around, he shut the door and turned to look at me. What happened next nearly made me shit myself.
“My young friend,” he suddenly said “it’s time that I keep no more secrets from you. Come, let’s go get your wife, we have much to discuss.”
“Come on, Charlie, please open the door.”
I’m met by the infuriating sound of sobbing. This isn’t like her, locking herself in the washroom. Charlotte O’Neal is one of the strongest people I know. She’s never backed down from anyone and even had the courage to take me down with a tazer when I was completely out of control. I wouldn’t have made it this far without her strength and conviction. I firmly believe that there isn’t anything that could scare her, and yet here I am standing outside the door, begging for her to open it.
That little voice in my head, that I tell everyone is gone, whispers to me that I should bust down the door but I resist the urge. No, I need to give her space and let her come to me when she’s ready but that’s easier said than done. For now I just have to play the waiting game.
Realizing that I’m not going to do either of us any good by hanging around the door, I decide to go find something to distract myself. I stop by my father’s office, not to see him but to update his secretary, Angela, on Charlie’s status and to ask her to phone my psychiatrist for an appoint. I’ve been working too hard to put my life back together to let the voice inside me take over again.
Just as I’m about to walk away, the door to my father’s office opens up and Brute walks out. I resist the urge to punch him. I suspect that it’s his fault that Charlie’s feeling like this, if he hadn’t attacked Strange Brew, I doubt El Vainillo would have booked them in a match against my wife and me. I try to walk away but he grabs me by the shoulder and turns me around.
“I am Brute?”
Despite myself I yell, “What the fuck does that mean?”
I’ve known Brute my whole life and whether or not anyone believes us, we can actually understand him. It takes time and a good ear but once he catch the subtle tones to his voice, what he says is quite clear. Except for some reason, since I came back from the injury I haven’t been able to understand a word he says. Maybe I never could and only realized it now that I was on my path to sanity but what does it say about everyone else around here.
The shocked look on Brute’s face made me wish I could take my words back, but suddenly he smiled and beckoned me to follow him to an empty room. After making sure no one was around, he shut the door and turned to look at me. What happened next nearly made me shit myself.
“My young friend,” he suddenly said “it’s time that I keep no more secrets from you. Come, let’s go get your wife, we have much to discuss.”