Hold Me Down

1

You may have history with her, but you have chemistry with me.
- Unknown

•••

"Here is your winner and still SmackDown Women's Champion, Charlotte McMahon!"

My seventh title defense in two months, and still I reign supreme. While I drowned out the inconsistent reactions from the packed crowd, the referee trailed me around the ring to hand me what was rightfully mines and raise my hand in victory. I looked down at a fallen and exhausted Dana Brooke. The poor girl, I had made a mockery of her in merely five minutes. I guess her social media fucking Batista wasn't enough to get her a rightful place in this company. She was struggling to catch her breath down on the mat, looking lifeless and unwell, whereas I was only getting started.

When I didn't exit the ring as planned, many faces transitioned from bored to puzzled. This is where the money comes in. I shoved my darling championship belt back to the referee and stomped back over to Dana, who had failed to get her ass up. I forcefully lifted her by those pretty platinum roots and squeezed her cheeks.

"Zoom in on me!"

I was gazing intently at the main camera, the signature sickening look of evil and mischief displayed upon my face.

"This is my show. My show!" I positioned her head in between my arm and pushed myself downwards, planting her right on her head. I leaned myself back upright and cackled as the attendees were sure to voice their disapproval. But still, she'd laid lifeless. My irritation was evident. I was doing as much as I could trying to put this girl over and she couldn't put two and two together. I latched onto the top rope and put all my weight down to my feet, forcing her little body of the ring.

The ring announcer scrambled over with a microphone. I raised it slowly to my lips, a satisfied smile as clear as day plastered on my pretty face. I was slow to bat my pretty, dramatic eyelashes and pushed my curls past my shoulders. But before I could even speak, my speech was cut short by the gut-wrenching tune of Like a Lady.

Lo and behold, Lacey Evan is sprinting towards me with a forged look of fury on her face. One thing for sure, this woman's a great story teller. I crouched down slightly and threw my guard up as she slid into the ring and I swiftly took her down. We both collapsed through the middle rope as the fans harshly yelled cheers of approval at our altercation. My fists rained numerous mild hits against her chest until she kicked me towards the ring with her foot. I took the opportunity to slyly play possum while I was truthfully stashing a kendo stick underneath my stomach. Once she fisted my hair in her hands and attempted to drag me up, I swung like a batter against the back of her knees. She screamed in agony as I wickedly repeated my movements, again and again, at different parts of her exposed skin.

Lacey and I had been feuding a short time after our last draft when I had went on a rant about this failed division and she had came to interrupt, as she did tonight. Over the past few weeks, I had been coming out during her matches to analyze with the commentators. The Friday before, I got into the face of her adolescent daughter as she watched her mommy fight at ringside thus resulting in her staged anger tonight.

The only difference is, she was supposed to have the upper hand tonight.

But I guess I stopped that.

Whoops.

For final emphasis, though, I returned the favor and grabbed her by her hair, slinging her into the barricade. I scanned for my championship and hurriedly snatched it before retreating back up the ramp.