Post by Tara on Jan 17, 2022 15:15:31 GMT -5
The scream rang throughout the Docherty household in the late evening, or early morning hours. The floor creaked beneath Tara’s foot as she walked toward the staircase, and glanced down from the top of the stairs where she could get a visualization of the living room. A faint glow from the television was the only source of light that illuminated the room; the television was playing one of the classic horror movies, Friday the 13th, which had the iconic Jason Vorhees character holding his signature machete as he stalked one of the fleeing teenagers. Tara could barely see the screen from her angle, and opted to walk down the staircase while rubbing her eyes gently.
Tara’s eldest son, Sabin, sat on the couch with a plate of nachos in his hand as he was watching the movie without so much as a blink; however, when he felt his mother’s eyes lock onto him, he managed to take a glance away from the television for a moment.
“Oh… Good morning.” Sabin said with a questionable tone, not sure whether it would still be perceived as evening or morning. He extended his arm out with the plate of nachos held up as a platter before making the offer, “Nachos?”
Tara pressed her hand to her stomach, feeling a little queasy just as the aroma flared her nostrils. She shook her head at the offer, “Do you know what time it is?” she asked with that scolding tone.
“I couldn’t sleep…” Sabin answered. “I heard about your match coming up, saying how it’s going to allow horror movie props, so I had horror movies on my mind. Besides, I heard you wake up over an hour ago. Is everything alright?” Sabin explained in a way to defend himself from further scolding, as well as shift some of the blame back to her.
Tara took a deep breath before walking toward the couch and sitting down on the other end; she propped her elbow onto the armrest and rested her head against her hand. Sabin raised the remote control to turn the volume down while Tara replied, “Just a bad dream.”
Sabin’s eyes lingered on his mother for several seconds with a certain unease to them. He let out his own sigh but shrugged his shoulders, “These have been becoming more frequent for you.” he couldn’t mask the concern that he had well…he tried to sound optimistic; more as a tool to keep himself from worrying, or worrying his mother further than he felt she might be already, but he just couldn’t. This did not go unnoticed by Tara as she looked toward him and could see the expression on his face. There were times that he was an absolute master of his craft; capable of hiding any emotion, capable of being devoid of any emotion, but this was not one of those moments. It was especially difficult to try to mask his feelings from his mother, so it made it worse that he had tried.
“You do have a lot on your plate…” Sabin said in an attempt to rationalize why she may be having the bad dreams.
“It isn’t something that I’ve not dealt with before.” Tara said. She was trying to dismiss the idea that anything professionally may have been bothering her. She had bounced back from her most recent loss to the now-former Grand Champion, Arata, but now she swore that she would only challenge for the Grand Championship when she would eventually cash it in, but now the holder of the Grand Championship was someone that she considered a dear friend.
“You are picking your moment, and that– that’s not like you, Mother. You will usually rise to every challenge in front of you, but it seems like there’s something wrong with you– like something in you that makes you feel that you may not beat Emmanuelle if you fight her a fourth time.” Sabin said.
The comment earned him a scowl. Tara’s force contorted and sneered toward her own son before she answered, “I am not hiding away from Emmy. I did not hide from Arata. I did not hide from Ozy.” She spoke low, with a hint of confidence in her tone but riddled also with the frustration building that her son had dared accuse her of such a thing. “I am merely waiting for the time to be…right.” Tara said.
“It sounds as if you are waiting for them to be weak.” Sabin retorted.
Tara sighed when he said that. She sat in silence to process what he had said. She knew, and he should know, that waiting for that sort of opportunity was not her style…waiting for someone to be weakened was not her style. She was the type of person that had always wanted to fight people at their best; wanted to fight them when they were one-hundred percent, and fight them when they were at an absolute high. It’s more fun to watch them crash and burn that way… Tara thought to herself as a smile crept to her face. She quickly erased that smirk when she considered what was directly ahead of her.
“I have to think about this match with this Greyfield guy…” Tara said. She watched the television and seemed to hone in on the machete that Jason was famous for carrying. “They say that horror movie props are going to be legal.”
“I heard.” Sabin said with a nod.
“Do you have any suggestions of what to bring?” Tara asked.
Sabin was more into horror movies than she was; she never quite grasped the concept of them… A group of people are generally killed off one by one because they failed at survival instincts, and then failed at being able to fight back. She rolled her eyes at the mere thought of the concept of all of the horror movies. Sabin tapped his finger against his chin, and pondered the idea.
The urge is there… The desire…to break someone on a whim. To force someone to admit to the world and themselves that they have nothing left in the tank, and they have nothing left to give: I want to make someone tap out. I want to make someone beg for mercy. I want everyone to know that I can, and I will break them for no other reason than because I can.
I drew in a heavy breath and smirked; that traditional smirk that I knew I had. I cocked my head slightly. I glanced down for the briefest of moments while taking a few steps forward. I gently bit down on my bottom lip then clicked my tongue a few times before finally answering.
“This is something that I have not seen for a long, long time,” I said aloud while considering who my opponent is, “and that is just the sheer…size…of my opponent.”
I couldn’t stifle the chuckle when I thought about it. This was how I started…how I was trained…I could remember the days where the only thing that people cared about was the size of their opponent; it was about overpowering them, and in that regard, I was ahead of the curb: I was always smaller. I had to find a different way to win; I had to be more technical, I had to be more crafty, I had to use finesse.
“There are people that would look at someone like Officer Greyfield and wonder how they are going to survive against someone this much larger than them… There comes a time when people look at this type of size difference and immediately wonder how they are going to survive? Much like the poor instincts of the victims in each and every single horror movie to ever exist. They panic. People stand across from people larger than them, and they panic. But…you see…that is the problem that Officer Greyfield is going to have when he steps into the ring with me because for as long as I have been doing this: this is my comfort zone. This was my training ground. This is where I dominate.”
I let those words roll off my tongue with a smile on my face because there was a certain joy that I felt in stepping into this match… It took me back to the old days. It took me back to the days where people thought that they could beat me merely because they were larger than me, and you know the old saying? “The bigger they are…”. I clicked my tongue a few times.
“That was part of the reason that I longed to get in the ring with Ozymandias to battle him for the Grand Championship… Because I knew– I knew that he was already trying to count me out because he had proven his dominance for six months! What chance could I have had? As I said, though: this was my starting ground. I still am looking toward that match because I still see something in Ozymandias that I have not seen in thirteen years… Officer Greyfield, you are not the biggest person that I have been in the ring with. You are not going to be the last person who literally doubles my size that I am going to be in the ring with. One of my all-time favorite matches was against someone bigger than you, and I know that I have talked about him before… I know that I have…but I can’t help but bring it up again, because it still stands as one of my crowning moments! It still stands out to me as one of my favorite matches. Reeshi. A name that has long since been forgotten to memory in the industry by those that have now overshadowed him, but let me go ahead and give you all a history lesson as to who Reeshi was…”
I let my voice trail away while I recalled all of the memories that I had. This was a man that had tried to instill fear into my head when I was still a rookie…when I was playing cheerleader for my ex-husband, and he decided that he was going to turn me into a target to send a message to him. If only he had known that years later, it would be him and I sharing the ring with each other in one of the greatest spectacles that the industry would ever know. I could recall the sting from every strike he landed against me; I could remember feeling as if he would crush my ribcage with a single punch; I could remember his elbow connecting with my jaw and spitting up blood for the remainder of the match. I could remember him fracturing my wrist; an injury that still flares up from time to time since it never got to fully heal because I was too stubborn…rather than giving it the time to heal, I put a cast on it and got back into the ring. But I had something to prove.
I tilted my head just a bit further to crack my neck, then rubbed my hands together while taking a seat on the couch in the room. My contact had faltered from the camera but I continued to speak anyway.
“Reeshi was a large man, a scary man to many; someone who transcended to the top of the company and industry by being a freak of nature inside of the ring… If there was a way that he could hurt you, he would; whether it was inside of the ring, or outside of the ring. There were no limitations to what he would do to bend or break the will of his opponents. There were not many people who would go out of their way to step into the ring with him because everybody knew that they were not going to be able to walk out the same way they walked in.
To give you an idea of how much respect and admiration I truly do have for someone like Reeshi, let me go ahead and tell you that all of the people I have shared the ring with: Emmanuelle, MYŌJIN, Atara Themis…I respect those three that I have shared the ring with. All three of them are extraordinary athletes, and experts of their craft…but Reeshi still stands out to me as my greatest opponent. He still stands to me as the one who I defeated, and pinpointed that I was going to be a force to be reckoned with in this industry!
As I told you before: this was a man that no one willingly raced to fight… except for me.”
I raised my eyes back up to the camera and felt a sense of pride when I could remember the day that I was announced as the winner quite vividly.
“I marched toward him… I challenged him… I did what very few people were willing to do, and I conquered!
But to make the long story short, that is why I am quite excited to get into the ring with Officer Greyfield…because it does bring me back to those days, and it does remind me of the obstacles that I had to go through in order to get to where I am today. The days where I was looked down on for several reasons: one, because I am smaller. Two, because I am a woman. That was another thing from back in those days: it was unheard of to think of a woman sharing the ring with a man, but there I was, fighting men the size of Officer Greyfield; fighting men the size of Ozymandias; fighting men the size of Reeshi, and conquering! In a sport that was known to be dominated by men in that era, by big men in that era, I was getting into the ring with them and making them question everything. I revolutionized the sport. Oh, how the days have changed.”
There was still that beaming pride on my face and in my voice when I thought of how much things have changed. What used to be viewed as extraordinary was now pretty common. This was a sport that was no longer dominated by the bigger men in the ring, but a sport that has now been dominated by the more skilled individuals.
“I think about this match that we are getting ourselves into, Officer Greyfield, and I wonder just what is going to happen out of it? It is just strange to me because I think of the stipulation…an oddly specific stipulation that horror movie props are going to be permitted as weapons, and the only thing that I can think about is that I do not need a weapon to beat you! I do not need to take a machete, a cleaver, a claw hand, or really any of those other props that they want to authorize in this match to beat you…and don’t get me wrong: because they are allowing me to do just that, it is what I am going to do. I am going to hurt you. I am going to break you. I am going to ensure that every crooked cop that is watching Proving Ground will see exactly what I will do to them if they abuse their authority as they have been known to.
Take a look at me, Greyfield…” I said while licking my lips. I took a momentary pause to let the audience get a good look at who it was that was sitting in front of them…so they could be reminded of the amount of respect that I commanded, and that I would receive one way or another.
“Take a…good…look.” I said while hunching forward and resting my elbows on my knees.
“I can beat you whenever I want, however I want, with whatever I want. There is not one thing that is going to stop me from breaking you at Proving Ground, and there are many, many, many ways that I am going to be able to break you…I could end you with the traditional Phoenix Lock, a hold that I have mastered and damn near broke Lance William’s legs over six months ago. I could end you with the Tara Lock, a hold that few people have truly been able to break; the only way they have gotten out of it is if I decided I wanted to inflict more damage…I could even throw you into The Phoenix Triangle, a hold that rightfully should have ended Arata Asakura several weeks ago! The choice is mine to make, whereas the only choice you have to make is: how long until you tap out? How much damage are you going to take before you have to tap out? Are you going to make me end your career, or are you going to be smart enough to tap out and save whatever time you have left in this business?”
I snickered when I thought about how narrow-minded some of the people were… We even saw one happen particularly close to the time that I debuted.
“Please, do not be one of those people, Greyfield. We have seen some absolutely stupid people get themselves seriously injured and then try to blame everyone around them for having anger management issues they couldn’t control because they got themselves hurt, and addicted to painkillers. Those are the type of people that I do not wish to associate myself with. Those are the type of people that get…fired. Be smart about this. When I get you into a hold: tap out… Do not make me break your arm, leg, or even your neck. When I have it in, and time is starting to slow down for you and that adrenaline is pumping through your veins…tap. Tap fast.”
I stood from my seat and let out another chuckle while dusting myself off. I gave a weak smile to the camera and…truth be told…I had mixed thoughts. He could tap out and save his career, but did I really want him to? All the times that I promised I would end a match via submission only to not be able to do it because they had a little more fight in them than I thought…
“But baby, that is all the time that I have for you… I just thought you should know what you are getting into the ring with– who you are getting into the ring with, and that if you accept the inevitable it would just make it a lot easier for you. Smooches, darling.” I blew my kiss to the camera and gave a gentle shove of it away. I could hear the back of my heels clicking against the floor before finally walking out knowing that I had said what I needed to say.
“There are so many options…” Sabin answered as he shrugged his shoulders.
Tara shook her head but pulled her phone from the pocket to her jammies– yes, she wears jammies. You wanna fight about it? Anyways! She took the phone from the pocket to her jammies and swiped up to begin scrolling through it seemingly to see what other options she had. After a couple of seconds, there comes the audio cue that she had sent a text message. Sabin glanced over, causing Tara in turn to glance back whilst simultaneously shifting her phone back to vibrate only. Sabin glanced at his own phone to check the time and he felt that it was a little late...or early.
“Sorry…” she muttered.
Tara set the phone down after sending her message, and just focused back on the movie ignoring the constant glare from her son. END.
Tara’s eldest son, Sabin, sat on the couch with a plate of nachos in his hand as he was watching the movie without so much as a blink; however, when he felt his mother’s eyes lock onto him, he managed to take a glance away from the television for a moment.
“Oh… Good morning.” Sabin said with a questionable tone, not sure whether it would still be perceived as evening or morning. He extended his arm out with the plate of nachos held up as a platter before making the offer, “Nachos?”
Tara pressed her hand to her stomach, feeling a little queasy just as the aroma flared her nostrils. She shook her head at the offer, “Do you know what time it is?” she asked with that scolding tone.
“I couldn’t sleep…” Sabin answered. “I heard about your match coming up, saying how it’s going to allow horror movie props, so I had horror movies on my mind. Besides, I heard you wake up over an hour ago. Is everything alright?” Sabin explained in a way to defend himself from further scolding, as well as shift some of the blame back to her.
Tara took a deep breath before walking toward the couch and sitting down on the other end; she propped her elbow onto the armrest and rested her head against her hand. Sabin raised the remote control to turn the volume down while Tara replied, “Just a bad dream.”
Sabin’s eyes lingered on his mother for several seconds with a certain unease to them. He let out his own sigh but shrugged his shoulders, “These have been becoming more frequent for you.” he couldn’t mask the concern that he had well…he tried to sound optimistic; more as a tool to keep himself from worrying, or worrying his mother further than he felt she might be already, but he just couldn’t. This did not go unnoticed by Tara as she looked toward him and could see the expression on his face. There were times that he was an absolute master of his craft; capable of hiding any emotion, capable of being devoid of any emotion, but this was not one of those moments. It was especially difficult to try to mask his feelings from his mother, so it made it worse that he had tried.
“You do have a lot on your plate…” Sabin said in an attempt to rationalize why she may be having the bad dreams.
“It isn’t something that I’ve not dealt with before.” Tara said. She was trying to dismiss the idea that anything professionally may have been bothering her. She had bounced back from her most recent loss to the now-former Grand Champion, Arata, but now she swore that she would only challenge for the Grand Championship when she would eventually cash it in, but now the holder of the Grand Championship was someone that she considered a dear friend.
“You are picking your moment, and that– that’s not like you, Mother. You will usually rise to every challenge in front of you, but it seems like there’s something wrong with you– like something in you that makes you feel that you may not beat Emmanuelle if you fight her a fourth time.” Sabin said.
The comment earned him a scowl. Tara’s force contorted and sneered toward her own son before she answered, “I am not hiding away from Emmy. I did not hide from Arata. I did not hide from Ozy.” She spoke low, with a hint of confidence in her tone but riddled also with the frustration building that her son had dared accuse her of such a thing. “I am merely waiting for the time to be…right.” Tara said.
“It sounds as if you are waiting for them to be weak.” Sabin retorted.
Tara sighed when he said that. She sat in silence to process what he had said. She knew, and he should know, that waiting for that sort of opportunity was not her style…waiting for someone to be weakened was not her style. She was the type of person that had always wanted to fight people at their best; wanted to fight them when they were one-hundred percent, and fight them when they were at an absolute high. It’s more fun to watch them crash and burn that way… Tara thought to herself as a smile crept to her face. She quickly erased that smirk when she considered what was directly ahead of her.
“I have to think about this match with this Greyfield guy…” Tara said. She watched the television and seemed to hone in on the machete that Jason was famous for carrying. “They say that horror movie props are going to be legal.”
“I heard.” Sabin said with a nod.
“Do you have any suggestions of what to bring?” Tara asked.
Sabin was more into horror movies than she was; she never quite grasped the concept of them… A group of people are generally killed off one by one because they failed at survival instincts, and then failed at being able to fight back. She rolled her eyes at the mere thought of the concept of all of the horror movies. Sabin tapped his finger against his chin, and pondered the idea.
The urge is there… The desire…to break someone on a whim. To force someone to admit to the world and themselves that they have nothing left in the tank, and they have nothing left to give: I want to make someone tap out. I want to make someone beg for mercy. I want everyone to know that I can, and I will break them for no other reason than because I can.
I drew in a heavy breath and smirked; that traditional smirk that I knew I had. I cocked my head slightly. I glanced down for the briefest of moments while taking a few steps forward. I gently bit down on my bottom lip then clicked my tongue a few times before finally answering.
“This is something that I have not seen for a long, long time,” I said aloud while considering who my opponent is, “and that is just the sheer…size…of my opponent.”
I couldn’t stifle the chuckle when I thought about it. This was how I started…how I was trained…I could remember the days where the only thing that people cared about was the size of their opponent; it was about overpowering them, and in that regard, I was ahead of the curb: I was always smaller. I had to find a different way to win; I had to be more technical, I had to be more crafty, I had to use finesse.
“There are people that would look at someone like Officer Greyfield and wonder how they are going to survive against someone this much larger than them… There comes a time when people look at this type of size difference and immediately wonder how they are going to survive? Much like the poor instincts of the victims in each and every single horror movie to ever exist. They panic. People stand across from people larger than them, and they panic. But…you see…that is the problem that Officer Greyfield is going to have when he steps into the ring with me because for as long as I have been doing this: this is my comfort zone. This was my training ground. This is where I dominate.”
I let those words roll off my tongue with a smile on my face because there was a certain joy that I felt in stepping into this match… It took me back to the old days. It took me back to the days where people thought that they could beat me merely because they were larger than me, and you know the old saying? “The bigger they are…”. I clicked my tongue a few times.
“That was part of the reason that I longed to get in the ring with Ozymandias to battle him for the Grand Championship… Because I knew– I knew that he was already trying to count me out because he had proven his dominance for six months! What chance could I have had? As I said, though: this was my starting ground. I still am looking toward that match because I still see something in Ozymandias that I have not seen in thirteen years… Officer Greyfield, you are not the biggest person that I have been in the ring with. You are not going to be the last person who literally doubles my size that I am going to be in the ring with. One of my all-time favorite matches was against someone bigger than you, and I know that I have talked about him before… I know that I have…but I can’t help but bring it up again, because it still stands as one of my crowning moments! It still stands out to me as one of my favorite matches. Reeshi. A name that has long since been forgotten to memory in the industry by those that have now overshadowed him, but let me go ahead and give you all a history lesson as to who Reeshi was…”
I let my voice trail away while I recalled all of the memories that I had. This was a man that had tried to instill fear into my head when I was still a rookie…when I was playing cheerleader for my ex-husband, and he decided that he was going to turn me into a target to send a message to him. If only he had known that years later, it would be him and I sharing the ring with each other in one of the greatest spectacles that the industry would ever know. I could recall the sting from every strike he landed against me; I could remember feeling as if he would crush my ribcage with a single punch; I could remember his elbow connecting with my jaw and spitting up blood for the remainder of the match. I could remember him fracturing my wrist; an injury that still flares up from time to time since it never got to fully heal because I was too stubborn…rather than giving it the time to heal, I put a cast on it and got back into the ring. But I had something to prove.
I tilted my head just a bit further to crack my neck, then rubbed my hands together while taking a seat on the couch in the room. My contact had faltered from the camera but I continued to speak anyway.
“Reeshi was a large man, a scary man to many; someone who transcended to the top of the company and industry by being a freak of nature inside of the ring… If there was a way that he could hurt you, he would; whether it was inside of the ring, or outside of the ring. There were no limitations to what he would do to bend or break the will of his opponents. There were not many people who would go out of their way to step into the ring with him because everybody knew that they were not going to be able to walk out the same way they walked in.
To give you an idea of how much respect and admiration I truly do have for someone like Reeshi, let me go ahead and tell you that all of the people I have shared the ring with: Emmanuelle, MYŌJIN, Atara Themis…I respect those three that I have shared the ring with. All three of them are extraordinary athletes, and experts of their craft…but Reeshi still stands out to me as my greatest opponent. He still stands to me as the one who I defeated, and pinpointed that I was going to be a force to be reckoned with in this industry!
As I told you before: this was a man that no one willingly raced to fight… except for me.”
I raised my eyes back up to the camera and felt a sense of pride when I could remember the day that I was announced as the winner quite vividly.
“I marched toward him… I challenged him… I did what very few people were willing to do, and I conquered!
But to make the long story short, that is why I am quite excited to get into the ring with Officer Greyfield…because it does bring me back to those days, and it does remind me of the obstacles that I had to go through in order to get to where I am today. The days where I was looked down on for several reasons: one, because I am smaller. Two, because I am a woman. That was another thing from back in those days: it was unheard of to think of a woman sharing the ring with a man, but there I was, fighting men the size of Officer Greyfield; fighting men the size of Ozymandias; fighting men the size of Reeshi, and conquering! In a sport that was known to be dominated by men in that era, by big men in that era, I was getting into the ring with them and making them question everything. I revolutionized the sport. Oh, how the days have changed.”
There was still that beaming pride on my face and in my voice when I thought of how much things have changed. What used to be viewed as extraordinary was now pretty common. This was a sport that was no longer dominated by the bigger men in the ring, but a sport that has now been dominated by the more skilled individuals.
“I think about this match that we are getting ourselves into, Officer Greyfield, and I wonder just what is going to happen out of it? It is just strange to me because I think of the stipulation…an oddly specific stipulation that horror movie props are going to be permitted as weapons, and the only thing that I can think about is that I do not need a weapon to beat you! I do not need to take a machete, a cleaver, a claw hand, or really any of those other props that they want to authorize in this match to beat you…and don’t get me wrong: because they are allowing me to do just that, it is what I am going to do. I am going to hurt you. I am going to break you. I am going to ensure that every crooked cop that is watching Proving Ground will see exactly what I will do to them if they abuse their authority as they have been known to.
Take a look at me, Greyfield…” I said while licking my lips. I took a momentary pause to let the audience get a good look at who it was that was sitting in front of them…so they could be reminded of the amount of respect that I commanded, and that I would receive one way or another.
“Take a…good…look.” I said while hunching forward and resting my elbows on my knees.
“I can beat you whenever I want, however I want, with whatever I want. There is not one thing that is going to stop me from breaking you at Proving Ground, and there are many, many, many ways that I am going to be able to break you…I could end you with the traditional Phoenix Lock, a hold that I have mastered and damn near broke Lance William’s legs over six months ago. I could end you with the Tara Lock, a hold that few people have truly been able to break; the only way they have gotten out of it is if I decided I wanted to inflict more damage…I could even throw you into The Phoenix Triangle, a hold that rightfully should have ended Arata Asakura several weeks ago! The choice is mine to make, whereas the only choice you have to make is: how long until you tap out? How much damage are you going to take before you have to tap out? Are you going to make me end your career, or are you going to be smart enough to tap out and save whatever time you have left in this business?”
I snickered when I thought about how narrow-minded some of the people were… We even saw one happen particularly close to the time that I debuted.
“Please, do not be one of those people, Greyfield. We have seen some absolutely stupid people get themselves seriously injured and then try to blame everyone around them for having anger management issues they couldn’t control because they got themselves hurt, and addicted to painkillers. Those are the type of people that I do not wish to associate myself with. Those are the type of people that get…fired. Be smart about this. When I get you into a hold: tap out… Do not make me break your arm, leg, or even your neck. When I have it in, and time is starting to slow down for you and that adrenaline is pumping through your veins…tap. Tap fast.”
I stood from my seat and let out another chuckle while dusting myself off. I gave a weak smile to the camera and…truth be told…I had mixed thoughts. He could tap out and save his career, but did I really want him to? All the times that I promised I would end a match via submission only to not be able to do it because they had a little more fight in them than I thought…
“But baby, that is all the time that I have for you… I just thought you should know what you are getting into the ring with– who you are getting into the ring with, and that if you accept the inevitable it would just make it a lot easier for you. Smooches, darling.” I blew my kiss to the camera and gave a gentle shove of it away. I could hear the back of my heels clicking against the floor before finally walking out knowing that I had said what I needed to say.
“There are so many options…” Sabin answered as he shrugged his shoulders.
Tara shook her head but pulled her phone from the pocket to her jammies– yes, she wears jammies. You wanna fight about it? Anyways! She took the phone from the pocket to her jammies and swiped up to begin scrolling through it seemingly to see what other options she had. After a couple of seconds, there comes the audio cue that she had sent a text message. Sabin glanced over, causing Tara in turn to glance back whilst simultaneously shifting her phone back to vibrate only. Sabin glanced at his own phone to check the time and he felt that it was a little late...or early.
“Sorry…” she muttered.
Tara set the phone down after sending her message, and just focused back on the movie ignoring the constant glare from her son. END.
