(Erica’s Mom): Mija!
She jumped up from her chair and nearly leapt onto the bed hugging her daughter then pulled herself away looking at her up close with worry and woe in her eyes. She brushed Erica’s mess of hair out of her face and reached over pressing a call button. Erica tried to talk but her mouth was very dry. Her mother grabbed a class of water with a straw and she tilted her head up just enough to take a few sips before plopping her head back onto the pillow.
(Erica’s Mom): Mija, esta bien, you soy aqui!
Her mother smiles, brushing her face with her hand and moments later a nurse comes in. She sees that Erica is awake and looks at her mother.
(Nurse): I’ll get the doctor.
Her mother nods turning her attention back to Erica. Before she has a chance to say anything the doctor comes into the room with a clipboard and file.
(Doctor): Well there, hello Ms. Martinez. I’m Dr. Fielding, and you’re currently in McLean Hospital in Boston, we specialize in Psychiatry here.
Erica looks at her mother, almost a look of blame, but the doctor quickly jumps in.
(Doctor): Your mother had nothing to do with this, and as a matter of fact you’ll be free to go after we have a little chat and I assess your well-being. First, I want to tell you that we are not here to judge but to help. My job is to ensure your safety above all else. I know you’ll have a lot of questions, but let me start by saying that I was able to get your file from Los Angeles late as is it…I understand you had been receiving voluntary care with a specialist there.
Erica nods.
(Doctor): Ms. Martinez, Erica….may I call you Erica?
Erica nods.
(Doctor): Erica, you were diagnosed with a form of what they call Stockholm Syndrome. Now, I only have a cursory understanding of your case…but it was reported that tonight you had an altercation with your alleged abuser which called for…I don’t want to say psychotic break, but a violent outburst. Based solely on your file here and an account of this evenings events I would say that its possible you have IED…Intermittent Explosive Disorder.
Her throat is hoarse and dry from both screaming and the cold air of the hospital.
(Erica): But they’re fuking lying …I’m pregnant, those documents were faked.
(Doctor): Ms. Martinez…excuse me, Erica…I have to inform you that you are not pregnant. I’m sorry. We’ve run our own blood test to confirm and I’m happy to share the results with you.
She stares at the doctor, anger building inside her. She wants to reach for the bedsheet and yank it back but remains tied down. Instead, she thrusts her body upward poking her stomach up as high as she can looking like something from the Exorcist as she rages.
(Erica): Then what the fuk do you call this? I haven’t been throwing up my breakfast burritos in the morning for nothing!
(Doctor): Erica, please…calm yourself…are your familiar with the term “Pseudocyesis?” I assure you, you are not pregnant. Pseudocyesis is a condition where one believe they are pregnant. It’s a psychopathological clinical syndrome that is known to commonly manifest physical responses that mimic those of a true pregnancy. The growth of your stomach for example and this morning sickness you’ve experience….both very common.
(Erica): Hijo de puta, that’s bullshit!
(Erica’s Mom): Mija!
Erica’s mom walks over to the bed, putting her hand on her daughters. Erica turns her head away from her, tears starting to form in her eyes.
(Erica): You’re on their side!
(Erica’s Mom): No mija, estas enferma! I help!
(Erica): You let him in the house, and he lied to you. He touched me, he wanted me and nobody believes me, solamente mi maestro.
(Erica’s Mom): No es verdad!
(Erica): He challenged me and they approved it behind my back. They’re all against me, and now he wants to fight.
(Erica’s Mom): I angry Misser Hans! Muy angry! He come house, say he help chu. Él no dijo nada sobre pelear. Nada…cómo se dice…he trick me! Pero tu primera, we get chu better!
(Doctor): Erica, it’s going to take some time for you to process everything, but often in these cases with counseling…recovery is almost guaranteed. I’m going to submit my findings to your therapist in Los Angeles. I encourage you to work with them through these issues, and lean on your loved ones for emotional support.
(Erica): Thank you doctor, I understand.
The doctor nods and stands, and begins to untie her from the bed.
(Doctor): You can get dressed and we’ll process your discharge papers and get you on your way. I’m terribly sorry you’re going through this Erica, but trust me when I say it can and will get better. You’ll be alright!
The doctor smiles, nodding to her and her mom as he leaves the room. Erica looks at her poor mother whose been worried and manipulated by Hans. It wasn’t her fault. She sits up and hugs her and her tears fall as her anger builds.
(Erica): Mama, pásame mi teléfono.
Her mother grabs the plastic bag with her belongings and hands it to her, and motions for her to get dressed as she steps outside the room. Erica pulls out her phone and goes straight to her HWA App, she first sees the comments from Hans and then goes to Live Post. Her eyes are still red from crying, the hospital gown is twisted all around her from her being restrained, and her hair remains a wild mess. She looked like the very definition of psychotic, but doesn’t give a shit.
(Erica): Esta noche...tonight…are you happy Hans? Are you proud of what you’ve done to me? Is this conspiracy you have against me everything you wished? You know you touched me, you know where your hands were…you wanted this Latina and then you tried to cover up and shy away after I responded to you. You created this scenario, you planted dreams in my head and they call me delusional, say I’m mental with all these fuking disorders and symptoms. What the #### do these doctors know…any of them?
I’m not pregnant, they say. Fine! I don’t want your fuking kid anymore anyway. What the #### do I want with some half-breed liar? Maestro warned me about you, but I had to learn the hard way, learn it for myself and here we are. You and Butch and Wisdom and everyone plot against me, against us. You want me in the ring because you think you’ll put an end to this.
Erica pulls her face closer to the camera, humidity from her breath briefly fogs the lens. She looks completely disheveled.
(Erica): You’re not ending shit. You’ve had your way with me for months, now it’s time I have mine with you. You think I’m crazy for burning that bitch’s hair, coming to your house, going to that clinic…te mostraré loca! I’ll show you that men like you can’t do what you want to an innocent woman and get away with it.
I hope you’re sitting in your hotel room right now, or on your flight back home tonight feeling at peace. Savor it papi, because it’s going to be a long, long time before you feel that again. Yo soy tu pesadilla! You’re Nightmare…and like Nightmare on Elm Street, you’re going to wish you could wake up!
Erica’s smiles but it’s some twisted, psychotic looking thing of a smile.
(Erica): I am going to make your life a living hell in and out of the ring. Fuk it, I’ll go to jail, and I’ll get out and start all over. You think some bullshit match is going to stop me? I’ll never stop. I’m a permanent tattoo on your culo….you’ll never get rid of me. Even if you kill me I won’t stop. I’ll haunt your ass beyond the grave and I won’t wait for Dia de los Muertos to make an appearance. I’ll keep you up all night, every night.
You should have just pulled that thick fuking dick out and let me suck it. You should have fuked me like you know you wanted to and ate the cum out my goddamn pussy but you had to be a little bitch and deny yourself your own desires. For what? For that barren puta of yours? Were you too embarrassed to want a Latina? Do you know what you’ve done papi? You don’t get to walk away from me. She doesn’t get to walk away from me.
I protected you from mi maestro. Did you know that? You’re still standing because I wanted you and he gave you to me. He stepped aside for me to experience what I needed to experience but he was right all along. Now, I’m not holding him back and you have us both to worry about. I accept your challenge. I will meet you in the ring whenever your pinche amigo makes the match. I should sue him for playing favorites, he probably gave you my mom’s address…it had to be. What kind of boss is that? Typical workplace disparity, but those other bitches are too stupid to see what I see.
Alexis, Michelle, Sarah…where was your ppv match? Look at what he’s done to poor Rain, persecuted her for what? For nothing but being an ambitious young woman. He put Lilianna and Brair as hosts for the ppv just to keep them occupied so all his friends could run around unchecked. Don’t you people see this? The maestro sees this, this is why he had his hand out to you, to help you like he’s helped me. All of us being used and abused by men in power. I know Hans has probably touched some of you, you’re too chicken-shit to admit it. Mr. Miyagi too, horny fuking Jap is harder than uncooked rice.
Erica’s face seems to calm a little.
(Erica): Go home papi. Hug that ugly thing you call your wife. Enjoy the peace, enjoy the calm, sleep well and may you have the sweetest dreams, because the storm and the nightmare is coming.
Erica publishes immediately, screams and tosses her phone against the wall shattering it. Her mom rushes back into the room from the noise and sees it in pieces on the floor and looks at Erica.
(Erica): Let’s go mama!
Erica grabs her bag, not bothering to change. The back of her hospital dress flailing open…her bare back and ass showing, nothing else on by slip resistant socks as she storms down the hall, hair wild and blowing about and a nurse trying to stop her for paperwork, and her mother close behind as the scene fades to black.
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