The Williams Journals: Act 5

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The Williams Journals

Act 5 ; Scene 1

Marie’s P.O.V.

Off Camera

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When you commit a crime the next logical step is for you to be tried, convicted, and sentenced to a prison term; time behind bars.  For many individuals when the judge, or jury, hands down the sentence, it is the beginning of the end of their lives.  The truth of the matter is that the percentage of those who end up returning to prison after being released is quite high; it is difficult to ever readjust back into society if you ever do leave the prison walls.  For in a prison you do not get to make the choice as to where you go, when you go, and what you do.  The prison tells you where to go and when and what you do when you get there.  All of your decisions are made for you.

In a sense my life has become like a prison, even though I am not locked up behind steel bars.  Lack of decent food, drink, and sleep, amongst other tortures have left my memories gone.  The truth as to who I am is locked away in the prison of my mind, a prison I have no access to.  There is only one person with whom I have any contact with who may know my true identity and she isn’t telling me anything.  This leaves me alone to fend for myself, alone to figure things out for myself, and it is challenging to figure anything out when you have nothing to go on.

What do I know?  I am chained up in a dark basement of someone’s home.  I am someone’s prisoner.  Why?  What have I done to deserve this?  Whom did I offend?  I truly have no idea.  Clues as to my true identity are lacking.  My hair is black but that tells me little to nothing, especially since it is not my natural hair color.  For whatever reason, my captor is keeping it dyed black.

This is a fate worse than death.  Not knowing who I am or where I come from is a torture far worse than anything else I can imagine.  At this point I have given up hope.  At this point I would welcome death as a sweet release from my captivity and that maybe, if there is a god up in  heaven, perhaps I will find out my true identity upon arrival at the pearly gates.

I must be a Catholic, as one of the few items I have been allowed to keep is a rosary.  Praying it almost seems natural to me and brings comfort and peace during the really trying periods of the day.

The sound of a loud banging upstairs tells me that my captor has arrived.  That screen door makes a loud bang when it closes, not because of the way my captor slams it but simply because of the way the door was constructed.  The usual routine is she comes into the house and heads to the kitchen to get my one serving of food and drink for the day, just enough to keep me alive but not enough to keep me healthy.

The routine changes today, as much to my surprise the door to the basement where I am being held captive immediately opens.  There certainly has not been enough time for my captor to have made it to the kitchen and back, so she must have skipped it.

Why?  For what reason is she coming down here now?  Why break the routine?  I begin to think that maybe this is the end.  Whatever purpose she has had in holding me captive has come to an end and she is going to kill me.  I hope this is the case.  I cannot continue living like this, like a caged animal, any longer.

Finally she steps into the light.  She is wearing a tight form fitting white dress, with a matching white blazer, and matching white pumps with a three inch heel.  Her long platinum blonde hair hangs down to shoulder length.

“Are you here to kill me?” I ask, mustering up the courage to finally speak out.

“No, not at all.  Quite the opposite, in fact.” She reaches into the pocket of her blazer and produces a key.  “Today is your independence day.”

Is she serious?  I do not believe her at first and yet she reaches out with the key and unlocks my chains.  She steps away for a moment before extending a hand out to me.  I am cautious, not quite willing to believe any of this is true.  The blonde woman sighs, nodding her head.

“I understand.  You have no reason to trust me at all.”

“I can start trusting you if you tell me who I am.”

The woman again sighs, bowing her head. “I cannot answer that just yet.”

“Living here locked away in this basement, trapped away from sunlight and society was bad enough, but the worst torture of it all was not knowing who I am.  I have a right to know.”

“I agree with you but you cannot know, at least not yet.  I promise you that your answers will come soon enough.”

“Soon enough?” I shout harshly at her.  “What does that mean?”

“It means that if you come with me, I will tell you who you are.”

I stare at her for a while, her hand still extended.  I’ve been living in this basement locked away like an animal for a long time now with no memory of who I am.  What do I have to lose other than my life and if I do lose that it would be a godsend, wouldn’t it?  I finally decide to reluctantly accept her hand as she helps me up to my feet.

“Come child, you need to get cleaned up.  We’re going to church.”

…1 Hour Later…

I had no idea what this woman meant when she told me we were going to church.  All I knew was that I had little choice in the matter.  Where would a woman with amnesia go, really?  And she was the only one with any clue as to my identity.  And the answer to that question, the question of my identity, is what I want more than life itself.  If I have to die to find that out, then I will do it.  Whatever sacrifice I have to make in order to find out who I am, so be it.  The torture of not knowing who I am is too much for me to bear.

“Almost there…”

Those are words I am grateful to hear.  I realize it has not been that long since we left the house and got in the car, but this drive has still seemed like an eternity, considering I do not know where I am going, considering what the high stakes are of this trip.

Looking over at my captor, or I guess my savior if she truly does answer my questions and releases me, in the driver’s seat, with her eyes fixated upon the road, I begin to wonder what really is going on behind those ice-blue eyes of hers, eyes that at times have seemed cold, and up until today, emotionless.

“Excuse me…”

“Yes, child?” She speaks up, not taking her eyes off the road for one moment.

“I have been held captive in the basement of that house for…well, I do not know how long seeing as I have amnesia…but I do know I have been held captive there for quite a while now and you have been the only individual I have been in contact with.”

“Yes…” her voice trails off in a nonchalant fashion, as if what I said means nothing.

“Despite all of that, I still do not know who you are?”

“Call me Emma, child.”

“Ok Emma, but while that puts a name to the face that still doesn’t answer my question.  Who are you?”

“What exactly do you mean, child?”

“Well, I mean, who are you in relation to me?  Surely you didn’t just randomly abduct me.  How do I know you?”

There is a long pause.  “You ask too many questions.”

“I’m just trying to find out who I am, Emma.  I think I deserve that.”

“And I told you that you would get your answers in time.” A smile forms upon her face. “We’re here.”

I face forward again to see where here is.  It turns out to be a sign that reads ‘Our Lady of the Annunciation Catholic Church’.  Our car turns onto this road, which is a long, winding road that leads up a hill.  On the right I spot a retirement home village owned by this Church.    We pass those buildings and then next, on the left in the center is a cemetery with a large brown crucifix in the center.  As we go further up the drive off in the distance two more buildings face each other side by side and both are equally as huge and grandiose as the other.  One is labeled as a school and the other appears to be a church or monastery of some sort.

“My God…”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes…yes it is.”

Emma pulls into a parking space.  She turns the car off and I reach for the door handle.  Emma stops me by locking the doors with the automatic lock.  I look over at her questioningly.

“Before we go inside, child, I want to ask you one question.  You want to know who you are, correct?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Are you willing to make a sacrifice in order to find the answers to those questions?”

“Yes, whatever it takes.”

“Good.” She unlocks the door. “Then lets go.”

Emma gets out first and then I’m next.  I follow my former captor through the parking lot and towards the front doors of the church.  I expect to go inside but instead Emma veers off to the side.  I follow her.  She must know where she is going, right?  At least it seems that way as she leads us in a beeline direction towards back doors of the church.  She tries to open the door but finds it is locked.  Not to be dissuaded, Emma reaches into her blazer and produces another key.  She puts it into the door, unlocks it, and then opens it up allowing us access.

“You are full of surprises…” I tell her, my voice trailing off as I step inside.

“You have no idea.”

Emma follows me inside, shutting the door behind her.  The blonde then steps in front of me and once again leads the way, leading me down the hall towards an uncertain future.  Eventually we get to another door, a smaller one this time that has no knob or locks.  It just pushes open and when Emma does push it open and we step inside we find a woman about Emma’s age, dressed in the black and white habit of a nun in the Roman Catholic tradition.

“Good afternoon, Sister Katherine.”

The nun looks up and smiles upon seeing Emma standing there. “Emma Frost!  I am so glad to see you again!”

Sister Katherine gets up and heads towards Emma.  The two women embrace briefly before Emma flashes her hand, which has a ring on her finger.

“Actually it’s Emma Storm, now.”

Sister Katherine smiles wryly. “Look who broke her vow…”

“I never took any vows, Sister.  If you recall I left before I even begun.”

“That’s right.  Your friend Angeli…” Emma holds a hand up over her mouth to silence her, Katherine quickly senses what she did wrong and nods her head “…I mean, your friend was the only one who completed the training.”

Sister Katherine turns and looks at me. “And who is this?”

“This is the one I was telling you about over the phone.”

The nun looks me over for quite awhile, studying me intensely.  Just then it appears as if a light bulb goes off over her head.  She shakes her head as she turns her back to Emma and myself.

“I can’t…”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t have any part of this, Emma.  I’m sorry.”

“I thought you nuns were supposed to be helping people?”

“I’m not sure I would be helping anyone in this case.”

Emma places a hand on her shoulder. “You owe me one, Katherine.  Remember that.”

The sister sighs.  She turns around and nods her head. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

She steps away from Emma and approaches me.  The woman smiles at me politely though I sense there is something else hidden inside her, something she is not telling me.

“Answer one question for me.  What do you want more than anything else in the world?”

“I want to know who I am.”

“Are you willing to make a sacrifice in order to find out who you truly are?”

“Anything.”

“Good.  Then you will become a Sister in our convent.  You will be Sister…Sister…”

She looks over at Emma. “What is her name anyway?”

“Kimberly.  Her name is Kimberly Williams.”

She looks back at me smiling. “You will henceforth be known as Sister Kimberly.  How does that sound?”

There is a sense of fraud about this whole thing.  I feel as if everyone is lying to me, everyone from Emma to even this nun.  I cannot trust anyone and yet the one thing I do believe in my heart is that if I see this through, if I go through with this, then I will find out the answers that I want.  Am I Kimberly Williams?   Maybe I am but I do not think so.  Whether I am or I am not is irrelevant.  Just as I needed a name to my captor’s face, this nun needs a name to my face and Kimberly works just as well as any other, even if something inside me tells me that this is wrong.

“It sounds wonderful, Sister Katherine.”

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The Williams Journals

Act 5 ; Scene 2

Kim’s P.O.V.

Off Camera

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The Williams-Jones War had been waged since I was an infant.  My parents, Emma Frost (now Storm) and Sean Williams both hated and despised the famous Jones family for different reasons.  Emma hated Angelica Jones because Sean had at one time left Emma for Angelica.  Sean hated Angelica because she didn’t tell him she was pregnant with their child until after she had given birth and given the child up for adoption.  Both were perfectly legitimate reasons to hate and detest the Jones family and to want revenge but what neither took into consideration was their own child.

A young girl named Kimberly Williams.  The focus of their revenge, at every point and at every turn, seemed to be upon the child that came from my father’s relationship with Angelica.  A girl named Marie Annabelle Jones.  They followed Angelica and her family to professional wrestling seeking revenge and they got defeated only to return again and again seeking revenge and again and again getting defeated.

It might seem noble to some and obsessive to others but to me it just made me bitter.  Marie was the focus of everyone’s attention.  Marie was Angelica’s favorite daughter and she also seemed to be Sean’s favorite as well as he was willing to drop everything and, at the end of it all, sacrifice his own life in a failed attempt to try and gain custody of her.  Why could he have not been satisfied with me?  What was wrong with me? Was I not good enough?

No, I wasn’t good enough.  He needed Marie just like the rest of the world needed Marie.  I did not want to believe it myself and when I was old enough I tried to get my own revenge only to find that it was true, the rest of the world all loved Marie and no one wanted anything to do with Kimberly Williams.

Thus it made sense to me that the Jones family had truly won this war.  No one cared about my family or me and if everyone was truly in love with Marie Annabelle Jones then I would give them Marie Annabelle Jones.  If that’s who the world wanted me to be then by God I would give them that person while I would make my twin, the real Marie Jones, suffer the fate that I had suffered for all of my life.  A life of obscurity.  A life where no one gave a damn about you.  A life where no one cares.

Marie had always been naïve.  I had even suckered her into helping me with my plans a time or two, letting her think we were friends when in reality we were never friends.  I knew suckering her into my trap would be simple and it indeed was very simple.  She fell into my trap and I now I had her identity.  It was mine and she was gone.

Being Marie Annabelle Jones is a lot different than being Kimberly Williams.  I get fan mail.  People love me, and not just the horny bastards who want to fuck me either, but the legitimate wrestling fans who love Marie for her in-ring abilities.  And as Marie Annabelle Jones I am now a member of the IWC roster.

I failed to capture a world title shot at Invictus but I chalk that up to the fact that I really did not know much of anything about any of my opponents going into the match.  As much as I hate to admit it, Marie herself probably would have won, for she had experience facing each of those three idiots whereas I went in blind.  Nevertheless, my wrestling career, which at one point I had thought was over, now has a new lease on life thanks to IWC.  In fact, coming up on Riot I will be teaming with a giant of a man named Aerik Walker to face off against The Pestilence.

From what I have observed, Marie has been working over Aerik Walker and Jackson Adams both in order to try and convince them to reform Apocalypse.  There is already an Apocalypse in FWA and it would be hard to imagine an Apocalypse not being formed in IWC.  There are so many former members of Apocalypse there on the roster already.

Alana Starr.

Andre Jordan.

Brittany Lohan.

Jackson Adams.

Aerik Walker.

And yes, me and Marie’s sister Jessica Lasiewicz.  Two of the of the four Apocalypse members are already together, I just need to convince Aerik Walker and Jackson Adams to put their differences aside, work together with me and Jessica, and we have quite the formidable unit that can dominate IWC.  And we will dominate IWC because I will make sure Apocalypse is directed as it should be directed.  I will give it the guidance it needs.  A force the power of Apocalypse has under the control of someone like me…

…oh what horrors I could inflict!

In my…or rather Marie’s…Boston, Massachusetts home I am standing in the bedroom admiring myself in a full length mirror.  What I wear today is something that frightened little girl Marie would never wear.  It’s a tight black leather mini-skirt, a tight sleeveless black top, and black boots with fishnet stockings.  My long hair, naturally black but dyed red to match Marie’s, hangs unrestrained to shoulder length.

My self-admiration is interrupted when the creaking of the bedroom door is heard.  I turn my head suddenly to see the tiny form of my nephew…Marie’s son…Sean Connor Jones.

“Mommy?”

He has bought into my deception just like everyone else has.  But then again, I worry about spending too much time with him.  Mother and child have a bond that no one can replicate, not even me.  He will be the first to figure out that I am not his mother.  That is why I have been having him spend time with Jessica, Kayla, or one of his other relatives.  Dealing with this child will be the difficult tightrope I have to walk.

“Yeah what…” I catch myself sounding a bit agitated, so I quickly regain my composure and force a polite smile on my face “…I mean, what do you need sweetheart?”

“I’m sad.”

“Sad?” I kneel down so I am eye level with him. “About what?”

“That you’re sending me away again today.”

“What’s wrong with that?  You like spending time with your Aunt Jessie, don’t you?”

“I do but I want to be with you, mommy.”

Hearing him say that almost makes me feel guilty for what I’ve done.  Almost but not quite.  I lean over and embrace him in a hug and kiss him on the cheek.

“You make mommy feel good about herself, you know that?”

“So does that mean I can stay here and you won’t go?”

I shake my head. “Nope, sorry kiddo, but mommy is going out tonight.”

“Oh…” his disappointment is clearly written on his face.

“It will be ok.  You and Aunt Jessie will have fun.  Now why don’t you go and get ready?  Jessie will be here soon!”

“Ok, mommy.”

With that said, I watch as Sean turns and exits the bedroom.  I sigh deeply as I stand back up and turn my back to the door.  It isn’t long that I hear the door opening again.  But this doesn’t creak open slowly like last time.  It opens definitively.  This isn’t my nephew Sean.  I doubt this is Jessica either.  It’s too early for her.  That really leaves just one option.

“I wasn’t expecting you to visit me, Emma.”

I turn around and sure enough my mother, Emma, is standing there in the doorway now.  She is frowning, looking somewhat disappointed in me.

“What happened to mother?”

“You ceased to be my mother when I took over Marie’s life.  I am Marie Annabelle Jones and Angelica is my mother.”

Emma sighs, shaking her head as she approaches me slowly. “You really should be careful who you say that around.”

“Everyone thinks I’m Marie.  What’s the problem?”

“Not everyone.  I know the truth.  Abigail Lindsey knows the truth as well.”

“Yes and I doubt Abi really cares.  How did you get in here, anyway?”

“Sean let me in.”

“Oh…the brat…”

Emma shuts her eyes.  “And you did such a wonderful job with him when he was here alone with you.”

“It was an act, Emma.”

“And you did such a good job, too.  You even had me fooled into thinking that you might make a good mother someday.”

“I am a mother.  The brat is my son.”

“Mothers do not talk about their children in that manner, Kim.  For that reason and others you will never truly be Marie Annabelle Jones.”

I roll my eyes. “Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”

“That child knows his mother.  You may have him fooled now but he will figure it out sooner or later and then you will be caught.  What then, Kim?  Are you going to kill your own nephew in order to maintain this secret?  Even you are not that cold hearted.”

“What are you saying, Emma?”

“I am saying that you are Kim Williams, NOT Marie Jones, and this has to end.”

I stare into her cold eyes, eyes that have intimidated many men and women in this industry before.  Those eyes tell a story, the story of someone with a plan, for I have seen it before.

“What have you done, mother?”

“Oh so I am mother now?”

“What have you done?”

“Your sister is no longer a prisoner in that basement.  I could not in good conscious continue to hold her captive.”

This is bad news, very bad news.  I start to pull at my hair. “What?!  Re…repeat that!”

“You heard me.  She is no longer a prisoner.  I let her go.”

“What?!” In a rage I shove Emma down to the floor.  “No!”

“I did what I had to!”

Emma scrambles back to her feet and I grab her by her neck and back her against a wall.  “Where is she?”

“Kimberly!  Do not overreact!  She has no memory of who she is and I put her in a place where she will never discover her true identity.  You are safe.”

“Liar!” I slam her head against the wall. “She will figure it out!  She will find me!  You fucking ruined it!”

I lean in close to whisper into her ear. “Now tell me where she is…”

“Never.  I helped you take over her life but she has a right to live, even if it is a different life, even it is as someone else.  She should not have to be a prisoner and I will not let you kill her.”

“Have it your way then.” I slam her head against the wall a second time.  This time she falls over unconscious. “Someone has to be chained up in that basement and I guess it’ll be you.”

I stare down at her slumped over unconscious against the wall. “My name is Marie Annabelle Jones and no one is going to steal my identity…”

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On Camera

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Every so often a there is a force that arises in this industry, a force that becomes bigger than wrestling, a force that defines an era.  A group that started in MCW with Angelica Jones, Glory Braddock, Jackson Adams, and Aerik Walker, expanded to include Brittany Lohan and later myself as well, a group that would journey into the shores of FWA to include Jessica Lasiewicz and to the shores of GDW where it would include Alana Starr, Andre Jordan, and Kurt Logan.  A group that has dominated every company it has been in since its inception.  A group that has defined wrestling excellence with its many championships, accolades, and accomplishments.  A group that strikes fear into the hearts of the industry when its mere name is uttered.

A group simply known as Apocalypse.

The Biblical Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have named and their names are Conquest, War, Famine, and Death.  In Hoc Signo Vinces, for it is in the sign of Apocalypse that Aerik Walker and I will conquer IWC!

Aerik Walker is a verifiable war machine.  He mowed through the competition at Invictus to earn a shot at the NHB Championship.  There is truly no one else on this roster better equipped to be known as the horsemen of War within Apocalypse and he will bring war to The Pestilence.

What about me, though?

Fact is you can pick one of the three and it will fit.  I am the famine for Pestilence because their drought when it comes to victories in this company will continue when they face off against me and Aerik Walker.  When they face off against me it will be like a famine for them for they will not be able to get anything.

That famine very well could lead to the death of Pestilence as a tag team in IWC, because if I’m in the mood I may very well end them once and for all.  You have to realize that Aerik Walker and I, both being Apocalypse alumni, have worked together before and we have the killer instinct necessary to put down a rabid dog like Pestilence if we are forced to.

So go ahead, boys and girls.  Force our hand.  Make us take you out back and make us put a bullet through your head.  I dare you.

Ultimately what I am is conquest because whether we kill them or just humiliate them, Aerik and I will conquer the team of pestilence at Riot.  This is a failed tag team following a failed freak and they are about to step into the ring with the most dominant force in the history of professional wrestling.

They have no chance and they have no hope.