M A Y
26th 2015
ROH LIVE EVENT
DETROIT

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Her head was pounding; she wasn't sure if it was the lack of sleep or her desperate ache for a nonexistent kind of serenity that, from its repose in the skies above, revelled in the moments of misery she seemed to be finding week after week here in this same position, right by the curtains and surrounded by production boxes.

"What the hell was that supposed to be?" His venomous tone sliced through the silence that stood between them. The vein in his neck wasn't popping yet, so Ella took that as a sign that there was much more to come, yet failed to feel any kind of guilt or hindrance towards her actions earlier in the night.

"I opened the show. The least I could do was make a statement if I let someone borrow the main event spot from me." Ella hoped she didn't sound as defeated and fragmented as she felt, unable to find belief in the words that slipped off of her own tongue. Words were her last remaining weapon, though they seemed almost inane in front of a machine so much stronger than her.

Delirious was someone she used to be afraid to mess with; a well-respected booker who knew how to get his company to the very top and build dozens and dozens of stars in the process. Turn on an episode of Monday Night Raw and the proof would come to reveal itself by the end of the show. She had come to him two short years ago, a thin, scared girl who had found an opening to run from home and make it to America with the help of her Mother, begging him to give her a chance. The difference between then and now was that she was no longer that girl.

His nostrils flared, a sullen and stern expression on his face as Ella could do nothing but stare. "This isn't the first time you have changed plans, Estrella, and I don't think it's fair on the guys and girls whose match you almost ruined. Moonsault from the top rope? What would you have done if Steen didn't take it, or if Amato just accidentally caused you to fall off?" His reprimands were always parental, no matter how many daggers she shot in his direction. "You're really talented. People like you only come around once in a lifetime, I mean it," he emphasised when she rolled her eyes.

"If you thought I was talented, there would be a women's championship. I would be holding it, I'd be on the goddamn shows, I'd be wrestling on TV instead of on every single damn house show and live event." This wasn't fair anymore. For how long was she going to sit on the sidelines and wait for a chance, only to watch it be stripped away before it got to her? There was barely any screen time for the women to begin with and she hadn't even been allowed in the ring until around eleven months ago — the Spanish style of wrestling clashed with its western rival and she had been forced to learn a balance.

Today, here she was, balanced and determined to find her footing to the point of being insane, but no one saw her.

Delirious stared at her for a second; the critical look in his eyes that used to make her shrink back in fear now did absolutely nothing. Ella merely stared back this time, waiting with as much patience as she had left.

When he did speak, he spoke words she would some day realise and believe in too late. "There's nothing I can say here, I don't want to yell and I don't want to punish you because you're talented, Velazquez. Unbelievably so. But because I think of you..as a daughter," he said the word carefully, making sure he wouldn't be rubbing salt on any open wounds, "here's some advice - if you're willing to listen. Right now, you showed the rest of the women working with you that you don't care about them. One day, you're going to find people you care about and who care about you.

That loyalty is hard to keep alive. Be patient, and you'll get what you deserve, when you deserve it."

With that he was gone, leaving the woman with the heavy chip on her shoulder to stand there and watch him go. The opposite of what usually happened. You'll get what you deserve, when you deserve it.

Taking in a breath, Ella turned around to make it back to the locker-rooms and pack up, despising that defeated feeling that always crawled up her chest at this time of the night, when she had no choice but to be alone. It's okay, Ella thought to herself; she was going to keep herself busy.

There were far too many emails to open and read anyway, filled with possibilities of future wrestling events and chances to get noticed. Ella had been emailing various different bookers and promotions left and right every free moment she had. Somebody must have responded.

Her heavy exhale resounded through the vacant hallway as she trudged through it, not certain if she was even going in the right direction.

She probably wasn't, that was why she stumbled backwards to stop herself from roughly colliding into an incoming body as she turned the corner. Ella could practically feel the already present annoyance grow inside of her as she looked up at the man, ready to tell him off yet still consciously aware it was nobody's fault.

But then, when Ella got a good look at the man's face, her lips remained sealed.

"Sorry about that," the accent, the mannerisms she had spent so much time studying, everything. It was all so different now that it was in front of her, like the way an artist would look at its painting through the eyes of someone else.

It's okay, Ella wanted to say, but no words came - and she wasn't sure whether that was because she didn't have to or she plainly couldn't. She swallowed the lump down her throat.

"I'm Allen," he extended a hand for her to take, but she still stood there, eyes glued to his face like they were on a hunt for something. "You can call me AJ. I mean, if you want to.."

He trailed off, realising how silent she had been this whole time.

Carefully, as though it could have bitten her, she brought her much smaller hand down to his. Their grips were firm, brown eyes against blue, "Ella."

"I know. It's nice to meet you."