Post by gvb on Dec 18, 2023 16:21:28 GMT -6
“I've seen enough, you're coming home with me. Tonight.”
Blunt, harsh, straight to the point. Her mother's words sounded like a sentence without appeal, leaving no room for a reply. There was a coldness in her tone, as well as clear disappointment. And perhaps that was what hurt her the most, even more than the end of her dream itself.
She wanted to explain, to tell her mother that La Huracan Famosa had been training in wrestling for as long as she did in Taekwondo, but she would have just deemed them as loser talk.
She thought about begging her mother to reconsider her decision and let her stay, even just a few more weeks. She actually considered opposing her, standing her ground and refusing to leave The Academy. But it only would have made things worse, her father would have likely gotten involved and their usual routine of gaslighting and guilt-tripping would have made her feel miserable for days to come.
“Sure..” She sighed. Everything, from the broken voice to the body language was screaming defeat. She was done, not even the slightest spark of fight left in her. Hopeless, tired, resigned, Deyanira walked up the stairs and dragged her feet along the hallway leading to her room.
“Make it quick. We have a flight to catch.” The woman spoke, immediately glancing at her golden wristwatch. Deyanira entered her assigned room for the last time and emerged a few minutes later with two trolleys containing her personal effects. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she closed the door, shutting her dream of becoming a professional wrestler behind it. “Are you seriously crying, Nira? This place really made you weak.”
The absolute lack of compassion didn't bother her too much. It was something she got used to, her parents had been raising her with military-like rigour and discipline since tender age and there had never been much room for feelings in her life. She couldn't even remember the last time she had cried, but tonight she couldn't stop those tears from falling. “One day, you will thank us, Nira.”
The woman added, looking down at her distraught daughter. “This summer when you'll be standing on the top step of the podium, a Gold Medal around your neck and our National Anthem echoing through the stadium, you will be thinking back to this exact moment and you will thank me for dragging you out of this cesspool.”
“They were ruining you in this place.” She insisted as they walked through the entrance gate. ”I don't know if it's the low quality of their training, or if it's just the distractions this environment inherently brings, but what I saw tonight.. That wasn't my daughter. You were sloppy, lacking focus… Simply put, you were not yourself. Do you know how many kicks you landed in the whole match?”
Part of her wanted to say that it was her decision to wrestle the match without leaning too much on her strongest suit. That came with the realization that, so far, kicks had won her matches, carrying her every single time and helped her hide her obvious deficiencies. In doing so though, her progress in all the other aspects of wrestling had been hindered, defeating the whole point of joining a wrestling school. She didn't want to be known as a one-trick pony, and she had the feeling that if she didn't sacrifice something in terms of results now to improve, she wouldn't have the chance to do it anymore down the road, when wins and losses will actually matter. But she knew that, once her mother started one of her rants, she'd better not interrupt her.
And in fact, the monologue continued. “I'll tell you how many. Zero. What kind of school teaches a young fighter not to play into their biggest strength? It makes no sense at all. If the goal is to win, then you should be able to do everything in your power to achieve it. And if that makes you too much for the others, then it's on them to step up their game, not on you to slow down.”
“Stop, mom.” Deyanira finally spoke, having had enough of this unnecessary bashing of the school and staff she grew fond of, even in such a short time. “It's over, you won. God forbid I have dreams..”
“Your true dream is still alive. You've been misled, that's all.”
But Deyanira was no longer listening, hastening the pace and walking ahead of her mother, trying to bury these emotions deep inside her, along with the dream of becoming a professional wrestler.
Blunt, harsh, straight to the point. Her mother's words sounded like a sentence without appeal, leaving no room for a reply. There was a coldness in her tone, as well as clear disappointment. And perhaps that was what hurt her the most, even more than the end of her dream itself.
She wanted to explain, to tell her mother that La Huracan Famosa had been training in wrestling for as long as she did in Taekwondo, but she would have just deemed them as loser talk.
She thought about begging her mother to reconsider her decision and let her stay, even just a few more weeks. She actually considered opposing her, standing her ground and refusing to leave The Academy. But it only would have made things worse, her father would have likely gotten involved and their usual routine of gaslighting and guilt-tripping would have made her feel miserable for days to come.
“Sure..” She sighed. Everything, from the broken voice to the body language was screaming defeat. She was done, not even the slightest spark of fight left in her. Hopeless, tired, resigned, Deyanira walked up the stairs and dragged her feet along the hallway leading to her room.
“Make it quick. We have a flight to catch.” The woman spoke, immediately glancing at her golden wristwatch. Deyanira entered her assigned room for the last time and emerged a few minutes later with two trolleys containing her personal effects. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she closed the door, shutting her dream of becoming a professional wrestler behind it. “Are you seriously crying, Nira? This place really made you weak.”
The absolute lack of compassion didn't bother her too much. It was something she got used to, her parents had been raising her with military-like rigour and discipline since tender age and there had never been much room for feelings in her life. She couldn't even remember the last time she had cried, but tonight she couldn't stop those tears from falling. “One day, you will thank us, Nira.”
The woman added, looking down at her distraught daughter. “This summer when you'll be standing on the top step of the podium, a Gold Medal around your neck and our National Anthem echoing through the stadium, you will be thinking back to this exact moment and you will thank me for dragging you out of this cesspool.”
“They were ruining you in this place.” She insisted as they walked through the entrance gate. ”I don't know if it's the low quality of their training, or if it's just the distractions this environment inherently brings, but what I saw tonight.. That wasn't my daughter. You were sloppy, lacking focus… Simply put, you were not yourself. Do you know how many kicks you landed in the whole match?”
Part of her wanted to say that it was her decision to wrestle the match without leaning too much on her strongest suit. That came with the realization that, so far, kicks had won her matches, carrying her every single time and helped her hide her obvious deficiencies. In doing so though, her progress in all the other aspects of wrestling had been hindered, defeating the whole point of joining a wrestling school. She didn't want to be known as a one-trick pony, and she had the feeling that if she didn't sacrifice something in terms of results now to improve, she wouldn't have the chance to do it anymore down the road, when wins and losses will actually matter. But she knew that, once her mother started one of her rants, she'd better not interrupt her.
And in fact, the monologue continued. “I'll tell you how many. Zero. What kind of school teaches a young fighter not to play into their biggest strength? It makes no sense at all. If the goal is to win, then you should be able to do everything in your power to achieve it. And if that makes you too much for the others, then it's on them to step up their game, not on you to slow down.”
“Stop, mom.” Deyanira finally spoke, having had enough of this unnecessary bashing of the school and staff she grew fond of, even in such a short time. “It's over, you won. God forbid I have dreams..”
“Your true dream is still alive. You've been misled, that's all.”
But Deyanira was no longer listening, hastening the pace and walking ahead of her mother, trying to bury these emotions deep inside her, along with the dream of becoming a professional wrestler.