CARMELLA VAN DALE
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned," Carmella whispers into the brown grate of the frosty, pitch black confessional at Full Sail's St. Michael's church. With goosebumps filling her arms as she stares terrified at the silhouette of her priest, she swallows the saliva lining her mouth and carries on the ritual, the thumping of her heart being all that's heard until she speaks once again. "It has been... a while since my last confessional."
"So what brings you here, child of God?"
CARMELLA VAN DALE
"Eh, well, it's kinda a long story," she sighs with a titter. "But lately I've been having, like, these thoughts. These dark, evil, I guess 'sinful' thoughts. Bear with me here, sweetheart. See, my abusive ex-boyfriend is dead and like... it's felt so satisfying to know that," she confesses with a soft, purr-like cadence, going into a mild trance. "Almost euphoric? I keep imagining how he died and what his face looked like when he took his last breath... or if he bled and how much. I just want to stand there in front of him and watch it happen over and over and over again. Maybe even touch him as it happens. But then," she pauses, snapping out of her soulless state. "There's a bit of a twist. Into my life waltzes his best friend, who loved and cared about my ex so much. And he's a really great guy and I don't know if it's because I feel sorry for him, the reason that I keep thinking about him or—or... no, I believe it's jealousy, father. Because I want him to care about me that way. Actually, not that way. I think want him to be in love with me. I don't know where it came from, but I just want him to grab me and kiss me. And then throw me down onto a surface and just give himself to me and make love—no, I want him fuck me. Steamy, passionate, sweaty, fiery sex..."
"Hm. Oh yeah, princess?" says the amused silhouette in a gravelly, familiar voice, disappearing from behind the grate.
Carmella narrows her eyes in confusion and starts to slide toward the corner of the confessional in fear, as footsteps approach and open the door, the priest revealing himself to be none other than Phil Brooks. Carmella looks him up and down, cautiously rises to her feet and pulls him in by the back of his head for a heavy, wet kiss. He guides her backward and presses her body onto the wooden inside of the booth as he writhes against her, giving in to both their raw, carnal, animalistic desires, then she jumps into his thick, muscular arms and clamps her legs around his back. They slide off each other's shirts and she claws into his tattoo dripped chest and his shoulders, as he kisses and sucks down from the nape of her neck, to all over her pushed out breasts whilst massaging them, next tearing off the remains of her clothing. While her tongue plays with his lip ring, she uses her curled toes to push down his jeans and boxer briefs, the pair of them now fully in the nude, when suddenly he wraps his hand around her neck tightly, leaving her short of breath. She clenches her eyelids, then re-opens them to see her ex Dolph Ziggler standing before her with rage written on him as he starts to strangle her, the church becoming engulfed in flames around the confessional. Startled, she fights back at him, slapping him and digging her nails across his face, struggling for freedom. What little air she was able to take in is then suddenly polluted by black clouds of smoke, causing her throat to tighten and her to release a hearty cough. It's at that moment that Carmella awakens to see her motel room burning around her, this time it not being part of her surreal nightmare. In a panic, she rushes out of bed onto the floor—still coughing out her lungs—and searches around for her cousin Liv, noticing the time on the clock indicates her cousin was still at work. She pulls a pillowcase off a pillow and holds it over her mouth as she tries to pack as much as possible in an available duffel bag, desperately running out the room door to the winter air when her respiratory system reaches its limit of safety.
Moments pass as the row of approximately four burning rooms is hosed down by local firefighters, Carmella looking on with tearful eyes while she breathes into an oxygen mask attached to a tank inside the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her.
CAPTAIN DWAYNE JOHNSON
"We haven't gotten in touch with your cousin yet, but on the bright side, most of your personal belongings were left without too much damage, as the fire hadn't reached the closet. We'll be passing them along," the firefighter informs Carmella with a polite nod and tip of the hat.
CARMELLA VAN DALE
"Sure," Carmella replies short and sternly, retrieving her phone from the officer and looking at the menu screen wondering who to call for help. She scrolls through her contacts and pauses at each name: Jimmy Uso? Joey Mercury? John Cena? Phil Brooks... She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to hold back from bawling, thereafter proceeding to make her phone call.
tbc: @Queen of Hens