“Woman is not born: she is made. In the making, her humanity is destroyed. She becomes symbol of this, symbol of that: mother of the earth, slut of the universe; but she never becomes herself because it is forbidden for her to do so.” - Andrea Dworkin



It had all started one night in May. It’s true what they say you should never be quoted as saying ‘things cannot get any worse’ because it’s inevitable that they will. When I found out I honestly thought I was losing my World, a baby, what would I do with a baby? A baby for a man, who had a girlfriend, well wasn’t I the clever girl. I began losing matches to nobodies, people who where ranked below me, that’s when I turned to an old family friend for help. Alcohol, the devil’s pleasure. It was alcohol that had ruined many a successful man.

Things will get better.

Why did people keep saying that? Things were not getting any better for me. Sitting there night in night out was not going to change the decisions I had made and life was not getting any easier but at least then, at least a few months ago I thought there was a possibility me growing, getting better and having one person in the World who adored me no matter what, no longer facing the World alone, but I and I alone had taken away my hope.

I’m sorry for your loss.

That made no difference to me or how I felt. Maybe some people felt comforted by the fact that other people where thinking about them after the tragic loss but not me. Nothing eased the pain; nothing filled the empty hole that was once filled with the love for the child that was growing inside me, a love I had thought was impossible since Marc had died, the closest thing to true love I had felt since he had been taken from me.

I walked around life like a zombie for two weeks, like everything that ever mattered in my life had fallen to pieces yet again. I could picture God, looking down and laughing at me while picking off the things I cared about one by one. I would wake up in cold sweats screaming and having flashbacks of the night I found out about Marc, except it wasn’t that night, it went beyond that night. His eyes wide as he screamed, I watched on in horror as his skin began to rot away from the bones of his face, a horrifying scream echoing from the gaping hole in his scull where his mouth once was, his screams made my bones quiver as I looked on helplessly, frozen still while he begged and pleaded for me to help him. Why couldn’t I move? He was dying! I needed to help him! My body frozen to the spot, tears began to stream down my face as I tried to reach for him, to save him, as he continued to rot in front of my eyes, his screams still echoing in my ears.

Then I’d wake up. His screams replaced by my own as I shot up in bed. My face wet from crying and my body shivering uncontrollably as I wept. The room dark, cold and lonely. He was gone and he was not coming back and now so was my child, a mistake I had made and yet I sat heart broken as if a part of me had been killed. Every night was the same thing, the dream, the waking up and then the realisation that everything I had ever loved or cared about was gone forever followed by trying to numb the pain? I numb my pain the only way I know and that was the reason I had been sleeping with a whiskey bottle at the side of my bed. People’s words kept running through my mind.

Alcoholism is hereditary Kendell.

I’d reach for the bottle of spirits, warm now from sitting on the nightstand beside the bed under the glow of the reading light. I never had time to go get a glass, I needed to numb the pain and I needed it to be numbed straight away.

Alcohol won’t solve your problems Kendell.

I never believed that it would but it sure as hell made them seem a lot easier to deal with than they did in the cold sober light of day. Putting the bottle to my lips and feeling the luke warm liquor hit the back of my throat, eased the pain. Within seconds it had stopped the shivering, the bitter taste of regret now replaced by the bitter taste of warm Jack Daniels. And then I’d just sit there. The room dark, the sheets pulled to one side and the bottle of whiskey in my hand as I plotted my revenge on a World that had wronged me so many times.



Scene 1 Analysing


Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “Tell me more about that night.’

Kendell Smith: ‘There is nothing more to say…”

I lay down on the leather chair in the psychiatrist’s office staring at the ceiling, my face expressionless and worn, my eyes full of apathy. I hated this place. I hated having to speak about my inner most thoughts with a stranger. Of course it wasn’t my first time here, I had been lying in this exact chair before but it was different then, then I had come on my own merits I had come to clear my mind so that I could over come the obstacles and win a match where as now, well now I was here because I feared that if I didn’t then my life would come crashing down around me.

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “I hear you are not dealing with your grief as well as you could. Brooke has explained to me how…”

Kendell Smith: “Brooke knows nothing.”

I interrupted angrily. I wasn’t in the humour of being analysed by some over priced nerd in an over priced suit. I knew the decisions in my life had re-procusions but I just didn’t care anymore.

Kendell Smith: “You don’t understand. Nobody understands.”

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “Then explain it to me Kendell, explain to me how you felt when you lost Marc that night and how it felt when you realised you lost your child back in May?”

I cringed, the doctor’s words striking a nerve as the memories began to flood back.

Kendell Smith: “What do you want me to say? I was devastated, I was shocked, I felt g…”

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “You felt guilty?”

I rolled my eyes and fell back on the couch staring up at the ceiling again as a million thoughts a minute began running around in my head. I closed my eyes shaking my head slightly. This wasn’t how this was supposed to be, this wasn’t how I had pictured my life.

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “It’s not your fault Marc is dead, it’s not your fault you lost the baby.”

Kendell Smith: “You know nothing.”

I gritted my teeth turning my face and staring the doctor dead in the eyes. I could see that the once cool, calm and collected doctor now appeared to be slightly dishevelled by the cold stare that ripped through her from across the room.

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “There was nothing you could have done.”

Kendell Smith: “That’s a lie and both you and I know it.”

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “Are you saying you believe you could have helped him? Do you believe you could have stopped the miscarriage?”

Kendell Smith: “I don’t know…”

My cold stare turned apathetic again as I began to tap my nails along the leather chair, looking at the clock, wishing the hand to move faster.

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “A lot of people feel this way after the death of a loved one. They feel there was something they could have done to prevent the atrocity but the feelings are in vain my dear. That night there was nothing you could do; there was nothing anyone could do. And as for the child, a lot of women miscarry on their first pregnancy, there’s nothing you did wrong. You tried your best.”

I sniggered and mumbled under my breath continuing to stare at the ceiling.

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “What was that Kendell?”

Kendell Smith: “I said I didn’t try.”

The doctor’s face twisted in confusion slightly as I lay deadly still on the leather couch, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. I felt like I was staring into a black hole an endless abyss of life’s mistakes.

Kendell Smith: “I’ve made mistakes in my life.”

Dr Elizabeth Frasier: “We’ve all made mistakes in our lives. We live on though to see another day and correct the mistakes we have made just like you will.”

I wasn’t sure whether I was being too subtle or whether the doctor, with her years of Harvard education was just too stupid to hear what I was saying. I sniggered to myself again. This truly was a pointless exercise.

Kendell Smith: “For somebody whose profession is pointing out the flaws in others, you are not the brightest spark in the fire are you?”

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “Insulting me Kendell is not going to help rid you of your guilt and the mistakes you’ve made by hitting the bottle.”

I shot up on the couch turning to Elizabeth Frasier and laughing heartedly.

Kendell Smith: “You think I think hitting the bottle was a mistake? My God why am I paying you two hundred dollars an hour! Are you not listening to me? Marc’s death is not why I feel guilty! Losing the baby is not why I feel guilty!”

The doctor continued to look at me confused as if her whole note pad of ideas about me had just been clouded over.

Kendell Smith: “You want to know how I felt when I found out I was pregnant? I went out and I got drunk, did a few lines of coke and then slept with somebody I don’t even know.”

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “What are you saying?”

Kendell Smith: “I’m saying I am relieved. I feel guilty because it meant nothing in my life had to change and in a way it made me happy to be taking the easy way out. That’s why I can’t sleep at night. Having his baby would have held me down, I would have been the mistake that he saw all the time, there with a child to remind him of the stupid things he had done behind his girlfriends back. He spent weeks declaring his love for her and all the while I cried my pretty little eyes out like the fool I was. Well I am nobodies fool. Love? It wasn’t love! It was infatuation, you of all people should know how having a fucked up relationship with ones father can lead to them clinging to male companionship? Isn’t it your job to blame my childhood?”

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “Well eh…”

Kendell Smith: “Having yet another thing taken from me gave me the ability to be who I am, who I always have been. I’m not the girl to sit at home and knit jumpers while my pretty boyfriend goes out and earns the family wage. I would have gone from screwing rich, attractive, powerful men to sitting at home with a fucking kid and no husband. Come on, surely someone read the small print. It would have made me feel weak, made me feel small. I didn’t love him; it was a high school infatuation because I couldn’t have him.”

I smiled widely at the doctor as she sat there in shock. I threw my legs over the side of the couch so that I sat up in front of the doctor leaning my elbows on my knees and leaning my face forward.

Kendell Smith: “I’ve only been in love with a beer bottle and a mirror.”

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “This, this isn’t right. You’re not like this Kendell, this isn’t how you truly feel, this isn’t the sweet girl I met time and time again, I saw you when Marc died, I saw you when you lost the child, this is anger speaking.”

Kendell Smith: “That’s where you’re wrong. There was no sweet girl that was a façade brought on because I was blinded by infatuation. I am still the woman I was. I’m still the face, the blood, the heartbeat and the soul of UWF. I’m not taking a character change. Drinking and having sex after years of playing Barbie does not put me in the same category as other mindless women. I’m just free.”

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “I don’t understand I’ve seen you sit on that couch and cry because of all the things that had happened to you and now you’re telling me that you’re glad they happened? You where miserable, you’re not this heartless woman you try to make yourself out to be. You’re full of love I’ve seen it first hand.”

Kendell Smith: “An assumption you came to yourself. True, there is one thing in life I love, wrestling, and in UWF I have finally found my home. Glenn Legend took me under his wing and believed in me, he gave me the belt I wear with pride I will not have it tarnished by some egomaniac and his group of social prostitutes at a PPV because I’m busy wallowing in self pity. UWF is my home, my playground and nobody is going to take that away from me. Not a man who sits around in his own piss and shit, not any woman who wants to be the next Kendell and not even a man I respect. My name sells out arenas, my name sells millions in merchandise, this is my UWF and I’ll be damned if I’ll have anybody think anything else.”

I stood up from the couch and walked across the office slowly, the sun from the large windows reflecting along my long tanned legs as I walked, a sense of elegance and an aura of a confidence emanating from my long, sleek figure. I ran my long nails along the frames of the doctors many educational awards, which hung neatly around the room. I knew I had changed the subject, I was aware that we had moved swiftly from the miscarriage, Icon and Marc on to wrestling. It was a subject I could talk about without getting angry, without feeling pain.

Kendell Smith: “Have you ever heard of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, doctor?

Dr. Elizabeth Frasier: “I don’t believe I have.”

Kendell Smith: “Well he was a German polymath. He was once quoted as saying ‘There is no art in turning a goddess into a witch, a virgin into a whore, but the opposite operation, to give dignity to what has been scorned, to make the degraded desirable, that calls for art or for character. I have done things I’m not proud of doctor but I never sold my dignity, it’s what I’m using as my foundation to rebuild myself. I know what I am and what I’ve become. The true hypocrite is the one who ceases to perceive her deception, the one who lies with sincerity.”

I sniggered to myself again.

Kendell Smith: “Hypocrisy is just prejudice with a halo. The foundation of people like James Magnums life is based on lies. Lies to himself. The biggest lie of all is thinking he has the ability to beat me. I’ll put him on his back yet again as I will Erica, Ricky, Kara and BJ of course it’s where she has grown accustomed to being. Don’t get me wrong, we’re all females and we all like a good hard seeing to.”

I turned to the doctor who had started to blush and laughed.

Kendell Smith: “I never claimed to be anything I wasn’t. It was a name given to me by naïve people, people who believe what they see from the outside goes all the way to the root. I’ve gotten tagged because of my indulgences.”

I continued to laugh walking behind the doctor and leaning forward so that my lips where close to her ear.

Kendell Smith: “Isn’t that what life is about? Extremities? Living each day as it comes.”

I backed away from the doctor continuing to smile as I spoke.

Kendell Smith: “It took me a long time to learn that. I had to first realise that people’s perceptions of good and bad are not always the right ones. I may not be little miss perfect, I may not be the smut princess people once thought I was but at least I know what I am and I don’t have to whore myself to management to become the best because I walked in that the door the best. This week there will be a new me, a better me, a Kendell Smith, which has been broken down to nothing and rebuilt stronger and more honest with her self and who she is.”

I walked over to the large window, which reached from the floor to the ceiling. I looked out onto the high-rise buildings of the city, the sun reflecting off the rooftops. I had had so much time to think about who I was, about who I was becoming. I had never felt so much clarity in my life as if every part of my puzzle had finally made the big picture. I no longer enjoyed having sex just to feel control. I no longer enjoyed getting plastered and falling in to my hotel room drunk and singing thirty minutes before I was due in the ring. I had stopped enjoying my life and now simply followed a stereotype that had been trust upon me. I was who I was and I wanted the World to know there was more to me then meets the eye.

Kendell Smith: “I’ve stripped myself bare for the World to see. I’ve nothing left to hide. They have seen me at my best and they have seen me at my worst. This week however, this week I will shine like I have never shined before. This is my yellow brick road to success. This week the real queen of UWF will take five wannabes and will win and retain what is rightfully mine. So now doctor tell me something about myself I don’t already know?”



November 17th 2007


Running through the brisk Connecticut air all my troubles, all my doubts and all my worries seemed to disappear. The voices which had been filling my head with doubt where silenced by the noise of my trainers hitting the concrete pavement and my heart beating against my rib cage. The cold air rushed against my face as I ran, feeling like tiny shards of glass bouncing off my delicate skin but it didn’t stop me, I was focused for the first time in a long time.

People tend to look at you from the outside, letting frequent actions define you in the eyes of others, as if what they see is all you are. Of course there is always more than meets the eye after all you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, right? So what happens when you start believing what others believe about you, what happens when you start to believe it so much that you envelope yourself in these lies, this fiction, defining yourself as something your not, not only to the rest of the World but to yourself as well? Can the beliefs of others really lead us to believe we are what we reflect to the rest of the World? A drunk? A whore?

You can spend your life pretending to be something your not, living by a normality which has been forced on to you by a society that believes nobody should be different. Today’s social norms don’t let you indulge the way everybody in their lifetime should. Life isn’t about doing the things others expect from you or fitting yourself into a stereotype, life is about grasping every moment with both hands. Don’t jump into bed with a man on the first date, don’t wear your skirt too short, don’t wear red to a funeral, and don’t give into a man who is already spoken for. So many don’ts dictating the direction our lives should take but should we be the ones deciding how our future will turn out? Shouldn’t we be the ones deciding what our own social norms are instead of following a path that seems to be written for us in stone? Since when did being a female mean being bare foot and pregnant? So some women didn’t wear their Sunday best on a Sunday, some women didn’t even realise there was such thing as a Sunday morning because it always seemed to be just and extension of a Saturday night. Some women liked to wear red high heels to funerals and some women got satisfaction from sleeping with men they barely knew.

I continued to run, letting few thoughts enter my mind, wondering how I could fill the void I once filled with promiscuous sex, borderline alcoholism and over indulgence in illegal substances. I never thought I would reach the point when I needed more but recently I had found myself questioning what I did for ‘fun’. Was I always going to be the girl that screwed men with money and power just for the pure control of it, was I always going to be the woman that hammered a bottle of whiskey almost nightly and freshened up in the morning by powdering her nose? The World was moving so fast and sometimes it felt like it had left me behind. While everybody was moving on and growing up I was too busy in my cloud of cocaine, alcohol and random men to care, but when the haze passed me by I was still here, alone and without definition.

I glanced at my watch, almost seven thirty in the afternoon and despite going to bed at a reasonable hour for a change I hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, hours of staring at a ceiling, not exactly the most fascinating of pass times. I had been trying to avoid my social life, feeling that my habits where spiralling into addictions and despite my cool exterior the idea of being dependant was my one great fear. So here I was, running down the empty streets in my training gear hoping that some last minute preparation would help me over come my doubts at Lethal Brawl.

I could feel water gather along the rim of my eyes and I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold night air or tears from the confusion and numbness which I had become cloaked in. I didn’t dwell on it though, I just continued to run, taking deep breaths and trying desperately to clear my mind. I concentrated on the flashing sign ahead of me and the lights surrounding the Hartford Civic Centre, my destination. I had a match against Kara tonight, another step on the road towards Lethal Brawl when I would take on five people who where all out for me, the Champion. It was daunting for even the cockiest of athletes.

I began to slow down, not really wanting to go back to my locker room, my cage, but time was getting tight and it wouldn’t be long before once again I would have to go down to the ring while another person tried to break my unbeaten streak in hopes that they would get their fifteen minutes of fame. Riding on the coat tails of the champion seemed to be a familiar pattern amongst the UWF roster, name dropping as if they had any actual chance of stepping into my shoes. My run was now a slow paced stroll as I walked into the car park of the Hartford Civic Centre and made my way around to the back of the building where the locker rooms where located. I kept my head down as fans began to make their way inside for this weeks instalment of Adrenaline, they where too entangled in their own excitement to notice her passing them by, covering her face slightly with her hands and looking down at her own feet until she moved safely past the security and into the backstage area of the arena.

She made her way down the hallways, passing by familiar faces from the roster but not speaking to them. She liked to keep to herself except for an elite few who she conversed with. She found most to be too self involved and intellectually challenged. I strolled down the hall whistling the tune to 'down in Mexico' while twirling my keys around my fingers. I eventually reached my locker room, stopping for a minute and looking up and down the hallway, feeling as if somebody was watching me. I put it down to alcohol induced paranoia or withdrawal and turned the key in the door, continuing to whistle and pushing open the locker room door.

The long curtains which hung from the high rail at the window fluttered in the breeze, stopping me for a brief second as I tried to recall whether I had left the window open when I had left, an action which was extremely out of character. I shut the door behind me and turned to walk across the room, noticing the shadow sitting on the chair facing the door, the face not visible but the moonlight reflecting off their hand as they tapped it melodically on the arm of the chair. I jumped back slightly, pushing myself back against the door and feeling my heart beating faster before realising who it was and calming down a little... but not a lot.

Kendell Smith: "What the hell are you doing here and how did you get into my room?"

Before he could respond we where interrupted by one of the new rookies who had been wandering around backstage looking for his locker room and had somehow gotten lost, Joe Average, at least his bad jokes lightened the mood in the room. She blinked for a second, not sure exactly what was going on and why two strangers had gathered in her room. Eli stood up, standing in the moon light which had previously just skimmed along his hand. The silver light reflecting across his expensive suit and evil grin made him look even more menacing than he usually did, there was something cold and calculating about the grin, like he knew something I didn’t, like he was in on a joke that I didn’t know about. Before answering me he turned his attention to the ‘comedian’.

Eli Keaton: "Oh hey there.....Joe Average....I liked your material remember. Name's Eli Keaton.......and unfortunately I'm a born liar......so when I say that I "liked" your act....chances are I was lying to you. It's tough on me to have to see epileptic retards have to take such harsh criticism, even though most of it is rightly deserved.”

He began to walk across the room towards me and Joe, who was still standing in the door way looking bewildered and confused like an old man with Alzheimer’s. I watched in confusion and with slight amusement as Eli put his arm around Joe and guided him into the locker room, the door swinging closed behind him.

Eli Keaton: "Joe....this is Kendell....she holds that shiny piece of gold around her waist for me while I'm on.....well let's just call it vacation. Isn't that right Kendell? Don't answer that.....let's just move on."

I watched in silent amusement as Eli pulled his new "pal" a little closer so he could grasp the full impact of the awful lies that he was about to lay on him. He truly did enjoy the sound of his own voice, a quality I had never seen to such an extent in anybody else I had come across in my lifetime.

Eli Keaton: "Kendell here......well she's also a whore. I guess you could call her......the champion of whores. Only champions wear title belts right?"

"Average" Joe Average: "But you said that was your title so wouldn't that make you the......"

Eli Keaton: "No it wouldn't.....I'm a man of principle.....I am no whore! But.....to answer YOUR question.....Kendy.....I'm here to discuss MY future, with MY title back around MY waist yet again."

"Average" Joe Average: "Dude.....she wanted to know how you got in here......not have you deliver your "Patton" speech."

I laughed, both at Eli’s attempts at insulting me in front of the new guy and at the new guy swiftly putting him in his place without even realising it. Eli quickly dismissed Joe from the dark locker room and I flicked the light switch assuming Mr. Keaton wouldn’t be as intimidating in the light, an assumption which was wrong. After the initial shock of finding random men wandering around my locker room I walked across to the kitchenette and smirked, occasionally and subconsciously turning my attention to the belt that sat neatly in a glass cabinet. I was silent for a while taking in Eli's words as he spoke and finding amusement in them as I poured myself a glass of milk... it keeps the bones healthy.

Kendell Smith: "Correct me if I'm wrong but didn't you hold the Galactic Title? By which I mean... basically the poor man's version of the Universal title... and didn't you lose that after a week to one James Magnum? A man I have beaten not once, not twice but three times? A man who sits around in his own filth, and who will fall at my hands yet again at this month’s PPV, and who has also been beaten by Gary Reece. I can see why you'd be proud but at the same time I'd advice you to watch the words you use, I mean it's hardly 'your title' and you don't wanna look like an idiot now do you?"

Kendell brought the glass to her lips, not looking in Eli's direction but instead leaning against the counter in her own World while drinking her milk.

Kendell Smith: "So apart from the rant and poor attempt at intimidating the new guy to what do I owe the pleasure? It's not everyday somebody breaks into my locker room, more like once every two weeks. I'm surprised you took time out of your whore screwing schedule to come visit me."

He laughed, amused by what he referred to as my ‘spunk’ while moving across the room and making himself comfortable on the chair he had been waiting for me on. A shiver ran down my spine and I could feel the hairs along the back of my neck stand up; it was like I was sensing something was wrong, sensing something was going to happen. Once again I put it down the paranoia.

Eli Keaton: “I thought I would stop by and visit my favourite champion, a little friendly visit from your neighbourhood rant God, that and I was bored and I like to keep myself busy around these parts.”

Kendell Smith: “You should learn to fucking knock.”

Eli Keaton: “Sweetheart I practically fucking own this place, I don’t have to knock. I’m like a God amongst men I do what and who I want when I want to. I’m the guy who fucks women in the ass, wipes, and leaves. Courtesy isn’t a trait I possess my dear but I’m sure you already knew that.”

What could I say to that, I simply nodded in agreement not really caring for his self praising rants and instead wanting him to leave so that I could start getting ready to go down to the ring and face Kara one on one but he looked like he had no intention of moving.

Eli Keaton: “I can see by the distant look in your eyes that you really want me to leave, am I interrupting you dear?”

Kendell Smith: “Show time is nearly here and I need to get ready to down to the ring… a task which would be easier if we could continue this meeting of minds another time.”

Eli Keaton: “Oh that’s right, you’re taking on Kara, one of the five who will be after you next week for the title belt. Refresh my memory, who is it again? Kara, BJ, James Magum, Ricky Stanton and Erica Rose right?”

Kendell Smith: “Sometimes I think you’re stalking me Mr. Keaton.”

Eli Keaton: “I’m not the stalker type my dear, I simply observe things. So are you confident that you’re going to win? Some tough competitors there.”

Kendell Smith: “Just because James Magnum took your Galactic title doesn’t make him tough, it just makes you weak.”

Eli Keaton: “Oh is that right?”

He laughed, and the glint flickered through his eyes, the one that teased her with a knowingness and sent a shiver down my spine. He was hiding something, I could feel it in the air, he wasn’t here to discuss my match he was here for something else. I walked across the room, starting to put my stuff together and pulling out my ring attire.

Kendell Smith: “As much as I’m enjoying this I will have to cut it short. I have to start getting ready and I’m really not one for small chat.”

Eli Keaton: “Aw where’s the warmth? Where’s the friendliness that both Khristian Call and Icon got when they came around to your locker room? I mean they’re hardly in the same league as me and yet I’m the one getting dismissed? I don’t think that’s very fair do you?”

Kendell Smith: “To be honest I couldn’t give a fuck about fair, are you leaving now?”

I glared across the room at him, bringing up my past conquests was a sure fire way to get his ass kicked out of the room. He made her nervous and uncomfortable, regardless of the fact that she had a match to worry about. She watched as he continued to laugh while holding up a large bottle of expensive champagne he seemed to pull from no where.

Eli Keaton: “I’ll make a deal with you. We will have a good luck toast, to you beating Kara and then going on to retain your title again next week, then I will leave.”

Kendell Smith: “I’d rather not drink before my match.”

Eli Keaton: “Really? It never stopped you before.”

Kendell Smith: “I’ve changed.”

Eli Keaton: “Sweetheart, a leopard will never change its spots. You are what you’ve been branded and you should learn to embrace it instead of trying to constantly fight it, fighting takes too much effort. Now are you going to have a glass or are you going to be so anti social as to let me come all this way and then turn me down for one drink?”

As much as every bone in my body told me not to take the glass of champagne from him all I kept thinking was how to get him out of my room. I walked across to him as he poured out two glasses of champagne and took one from his hand, downing it in one and handing him back the glass.

Kendell Smith: “Now… leave.”

Eli Keaton: “I don’t think so sweetheart.”

Before I could say anymore I felt myself getting light headed as the room around me began to close in on. I looked at Eli in confusion as he simply laughed back at me, watching as I fell to the floor on my knees.

Eli Keaton: “Oh Kendell, I thought you where a smart girl. Brains, beauty and brawn and yet here you are kneeling before me. What a pretty sight you are.”

I could feel his hand on my face, hear his laugh rip through the room as I struggled to stay conscious, I blinked a couple of times my heart filling up with panic as I saw the moon reflect off what he was holding in his hand… a knife and then everything went black.