Author's Note:

I haven't written anything in six years. Haha, they've all been soul-draining academic papers. So trust me when I say the fear of jumping back into creative writing and having graduated for a non-creative degree recently is legit. But WWE and its relatively small community of writers inspired to contribute and try my hand at writing again. So there's that! I hope you enjoy, and please go easy on me!

The Dish Best Served Cold:

Chapter I

The Girl From Skid Row

Sasha couldn't feel any more shady and unsure about herself than she does right now. Sitting anxiously within the heavily tinted windows of her rather unassuming Ford Focus all rolled up, it's just the waiting game at this point. She's spent weeks trying to get to where she is right now. Following a different hundred of black vans that match an obscure pair of numbers that were barely recognized by a memory in trauma was no easy task. It feels like this time it's a match.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she glanced at the clock that palpitated 12:32 AM and then at the rearview mirror. Holy crap. Bloodshot eyes, sunken cheeks, and smudged mascara from 96 hours ago - when she last slept. The adrenaline has dwindled but the blur of speeding cars and the fragmented concentration couldn't convince her to take a break.

It doesn't matter, she told herself, her left hand wrapped weakly around the stirring wheel and the right - restlessly situated by the glove compartment. I'll be able to sleep once I get Bayley back, she promised. If anything, it was more of a prayer. A prayer alright, to the .38 caliber pistol now tucked within her right hand, for it to magically be able to do the miracle she desperately needs to be done when the time comes.

The black van a couple of meters away from her started moving, the vehicle now packed with cheap fast food meals, and hopefully a lead that will point her towards a warm body.

Sasha has been maintaining an interval of a medium to long distance between her and the van for about an uneventful half-hour. Its activities seemed suspiciously normal: a spacious car that's to travel far. Too far, in her opinion. And as if her thoughts are jinxed, the van drove towards a seedy neighborhood - one she's not unfamiliar with. People hardly forget places that made them.

These were the streets that marked a spike in her heartbeat every time the sky went a little bit darker as the clock hits past seven. You'd think that this wouldn't be her reaction now that she's twelve years older, lives a couple of districts away, and has a couple thousand miles on her passport. The black van maneuvered towards a trail that led to a worn-down establishment that looked like a tug between a warehouse and a public garage. Her heart skipped a beat. The quiet of the neighborhood and the lack of cars surely gave her away. This time - it was like she was sixteen again.

How much time does a second thought costs? No matter how fast she would be able to weigh the impact of each option she has in this narrow situation, she wouldn't be able to race with a split-second. The split-second that can equip her with the advantage of being able to move first. Possibly the split-second that separates her from Bayley. She could be suffering and a split-second more could break her. But a split-second of mistake and the lack of information can cost Sasha everything. If Sasha was anything apart from impatient, she was wise.

At this point, at least she knows to flag this van.

Sasha drove past the block and drove to the nearest house in the neighborhood that she might've been remotely familiar with. "Goddammit. Lowkey hope Naomi still lives here," she muttered, in a tone that could almost be mistaken for a curse. Without hesitation, she pulled over towards an empty lot that stood opposite of where she remembered was Naomi's house - deeper into the heart of the neighborhood. Unburied hatchets and ungodly hours be damned.

She knocked. "I'm home," she feigned - desperately putting up an act to be as normal as possible; trying blend into a neighborhood that used to describe who she was so perfectly.

"What the fuck?" A disgruntled noise ventured, its sound descending alongside lights being switched on. As the footsteps reached closest to the door, about six locks were opened - leaving one, the door chain, which allowed the person on the other side of the house to peak at who was their visitor.

"Sasha?" Disbelief. Of course.

"Naomi." Sasha stood, completely still.

There was a moment of silence between the two women, abruptly cut off by Naomi's attempt to shut the door at Sasha's face.

Still high on residual adrenaline, Sasha was quick to catch and stop this attempt. Holding out the door firm enough to rival Naomi's force, which left the door slightly ajar. "Before you say anything, I just need you to let me in. Please." Her voice begged, but she was careful not to let her body and expression betray her facade.

Somehow still able to recognize the cower of an old friend with a weathered face, Naomi unlocked the door and motioned for Sasha to get in. "10 minutes, then you're leaving."

"That's all I need."

Both of their guards still up, they settled by the cramped room that was a compound between a kitchen and a dining room. "I know I don't deserve to ask for forgiveness or whatever," Sasha stammered, unprepared for this untimely confrontation. "Look, I just need to hide for a quick bit. Bayley's been kidnapped and I've been trynna' track down all these black vans and," she breathed anxiously, "-and I think I spooked em' as it was pretty fuckin' obvious that I was tailing them when they drove down here."

"Bayley, huh," Naomi emphasized. "Know what? You're lucky I'm far more decent than you Sasha." She relaxed into a bold posture, her arms crossed and chin high. "You people are unbelievable. This shit 'been happening for years around this hood and the only time the world cares is when you boujee motherfuckers start giving jackshit is when ya'll asses are up."

"You people?" Sasha snapped, the venom in her voice evident. If it wasn't the lack of sleep, it was definitely because of the othering and the blatant disregard for what was once a sisterhood. "You damn well know that I care. If it wasn't for-"

"For what!?" Naomi challenged.

"Nevermind." Sasha stopped herself, aware that this was the worst time to have this conversation. "You know what, ten minutes are up." She took her bag and headed straight towards the door.

Naomi leaned firmly against the spine of her worn-down plastic chair, "You ain't fooling anybody. Everythin' bout' your style has changed but you're still the same, Sasha." Determined to get the last word this time around, Naomi stood up. "You still can't hack respect." Just like that, the door was tightly shut and Naomi's house was filled with dead air.

If it was fear the drove her out of the neighborhood all those years ago, it was pride that drove her out of Naomi's house and back into her car. "Have to say I'm surprised there ain't scratches on you baby," Sasha bitterly chuckled, eyeing her car as she entered the driver's seat. "It's okay, that's all the time I needed to lose them."

Determined to get out of the mess Sasha dragged herself into and back into her investigation, she slowly drove away from Naomi's block to get to the exit. The tension has slightly declined from when she first entered, but her mind's still directed at her mission at hand. Time was not on her side and her odds were wearing thin. It was difficult to walk away from the opportunity to get closer to finding out about what the hell happened to Bayley, especially when the opportunity was sitting in front of her in the shape of a black van. Still, if she managed to alarm those people - only god knows what could happen to her, or worse, Bayley. She had to get home and investigate the van's connection with the hood, she reckoned this to be an adequate amount of information in just one night. So, if time wasn't on her side, she tried to make sure that speed was.

Indeed, speed was on her side up until the point at which a disabled pedestrian slowly crossed the street a few meters away from her. Fuckin' crip! Can you be any slower than a birdbrained bimbo? Her mind tactlessly spat. Sasha stepped on her brakes instead of turning in an attempt to avoid the pedestrian and risking a thousand-dollar accident and a deadly delay on her schedule; confident on the pull of her Ford Focus. So when the brakes didn't work, she was dumbfounded.

"Fuck!" Sasha screamed, louder than the sound of her bumper crashing towards a tree half the size of her bumper when she swerved in panic.

She felt hot liquid trickle down her face from her forehead and she swore it could have been sweat, but her blurring vision seemed to state otherwise.

No…

People say that near-death experiences subject humans to a moment where their life flashes before their eyes. So why was it that, in the minutes leading up to Sasha's blackout, it was Bayley that governed her intermittent consciousness.

When she left the darkness of Skid Row for a fresh start in Hollywood, it had been Bayley that kept her straight and exposed her to an entirely different world - knowing full well that Sasha probably wasn't a person to be trusted. Because she might have left Skid Row but the place never really left her - at least not for a couple of years. Surely, it was difficult to slide into the routine of work, laundry, bills, and Friday nights without having to constantly look over one's shoulder. But Bayley had been there. To them, normal was the watchword.

She had to snicker because it was a beautifully vivid panorama. Beautiful in a way that only a person who's had Sasha's past can appreciate. She's so sure that she's in a state of delirium. Everything was so bright and warm and she could just fall into it.

A rabbit hole, an endless mirror hole.

And fall into it she did.

Sasha's eyes fluttered, struggling to remain open with the blinding white lights that were too intrusive to be comfortable. Not to mention the cacophony of wheels rolling on the tiled surface, beeping machines, and quick-paced yet hushed voices reminded her all too well of where she was. Ugh, not again.

When she raised her arms to touch the dull ache at her temple she noticed that her left hand was infused with an IV drip. "F-fuck, the bills." She felt like she rolled her eyes but she wasn't sure if that was executed properly. As if she had the strength to form full sentences, she spoke, "Take me home - greedy bitches I have work to do!" her voice ebbed.

"Whoah dude, watch the language!"

Huh? That's familiar.

"There's way too many kids in this E.R. for you to be talking like a sailor."

Could it be? No.

"Can't give- two shits bout' these o'ergrown squirts," she really did try to strike a conversation, convinced that she was neither heavily drugged nor speaking in gibberish. Really, at this point, the only perception she could rely on was her hearing - stiff neck, hospital bed, and all.

The voice turned into a faint figure and the figure turned into a side pony-tail and a very familiar smile.

Her heart jumped.

"You've racked up quite the bills sis', but even I have to admit that's better than having to bail you out."

Sasha flashed a million-dollar smile that possibly no living artist could properly capture. And if words could encapsulate the abundance of emotions that threatened to burst out of her chest, she wasn't able to find those words. Instead, her face felt hot with tears. "Bayley…"

"Sasha." Bayley held Sasha's arm and Sasha swore that she could've melted. "It's been a while."

"I'm so relieved, what happened to you booboo?"

"It's such a long story Sash, and I swear I'm going to tell you once you're all healed up." Bayley occupied the small empty spot by Sasha's bedside. "For now, you gotta focus on making sure you heal okay? You're concussed Sash, and the doctors said that you have to stay here for a bit."

"Take me home this place smells like sanitized death," Sasha whined. It felt good though, falling back into old patterns. Just like how the world's supposed to work. She relaxed into her bed. If it weren't the painkillers that snatched the pain that formerly pounded at her head, it was definitely Bayley who did. She could get used to this, getting sick and being taken care of. It's not every day that someone like Sasha gets to lay back.

Bayley abruptly stood from where she was sitting. "Oh shi- I forgot to run an errand today! Sash I'm going to be quick, else my boss is gonna kill me."

"Wait!"

It was almost too late. Sasha was able to stop the woman who was half-a-foot out of the room. "Oh, and Sasha… come find me and stay alive."

And just like that, Bayley was gone.

What!?

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading this far! Comments, violent reactions, constructive criticisms are very welcome. I love communicating and talking to the WWE fans/writers/readers in this site and sharing thoughts. Oh also, there's going to be some Becky next chapter. Stay tuned!