Post by crawford on Apr 21, 2022 21:17:18 GMT
DECEMBER 15th, 2019
SHELBY COUNTY, KY
KENTUCKY CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTE FOR WOMEN
HARLAN COUNTY, KY
SHELBY COUNTY, KY
KENTUCKY CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTE FOR WOMEN
Inside the walls of the KCIW, there are countless souls who claim to be ‘unfairly’ imprisoned.
People railroaded by circumstance or forced into a life of crime by necessity.
There are even a few who are genuinely innocent.
Among the latter is Charli Crawford, belonging to Kentucky’s most infamous criminal clan. She’d always been the black sheep, possessing a morality that was absent in her siblings and elders.
Her people made their living by preying upon their neighbours, but she refused to.
A brief stint in the local sheriff’s department led to a position within the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms...
...leading to a betrayal that destroyed her life.
Drugs and cash were planted in her vehicle; a set-up orchestrated by her family. Charli suspected a few of her fellow agents had a hand in it, but she couldn’t be sure.
Her punishment for trying to lead a righteous life as a Crawford?
Convictions for possession and money laundering, carrying a lengthy prison sentence with no hope of parole for two years
For someone who grew up hunting in forests and sleeping under the stars, being caged like an animal was the cruelest fate she could imagine.
Not even a week into her prison term, Charli already felt a part of herself dying; the part that took joy in anything, that was capable of seeing the good in people.
A cold, all-encompassing hate had settled in her heart.
None of this was fair.
“Charli... Charli...?”
The words interrupt her thoughts, and she snaps out of her trance.
Her face is a mess: bruises, two black eyes, and a split lip courtesy of the prison’s ‘welcoming committee’. She’d fought back, but there were too many of them.
They left her with a warning: ‘this is just the beginning’.
Crawford sits within the office of prison psychiatrist Dr. Wendy Wiczlewski, who looks at her from across the table.
“Huh?” answers Charli, in a bored monotone.
She looks directly into the eyes of the psychologist, who seems somewhat troubled by her emotionless stare and impassive tone.
“What’s all this about you refusing Protective Custody? You’re not going to last long out there in GenPop.”
“Can’t run forever. If it’s gonna happen, I’d rather it happen sooner than later.”
“But Charli, look at your face. They could kill you next time.”
Crawford simply shrugs at the possibility.
“Best of luck to them, I guess. What do you want me to do? Pretend I’m worried? Beg for protection? Cry about how unfair it is? Convince you of my innocence? Ain’t happening, ma’am, so let’s move on. Either that, or let me get back to my cell.”
The psychologist sighs and looks down at the prisoner’s file, glancing through the assorted paperwork. Eventually, she clears her throat and looks back up to begin the session.
“Tell me about your family.”
This earns her a reflexive scowl from the younger woman, Charli bristling at the mention of her fellow Crawfords. Despite the rage she feels, she does an admirable job of keeping her voice level.
“My family? Oh, I got plenty of stories about them. Let me tell you what it was like growing up as a Crawford...”
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APRIL 20th, 2022HARLAN COUNTY, KY
A rural property hosts an illegal wrestling event. A small handful of fans sit around the ring, without even a flimsy barricade to separate them from the action.
Inside the ring are broken panes of glass, along with a man laying on the blood-stained canvas. Standing above him is Charli Crawford, with red war-paint smeared on her face
The referee moves to raise her arm in victory, but Charli pulls back before he can grab her wrist. She might be forced to wrestle for cash, but she still doesn’t appreciate being touched.
It wasn’t always that way; she used to be warm and friendly in her youth. A traumatic experience in her teen years - and two years in prison - had made her cold and distant.
Rolling out of the ring, she’s met with insults and shouts from the crowd. The smell of cannabis hangs heavy in the air, causing Charli to frown when she catches a whiff.
A pair of attendees approach Charli as she makes her way through the audience, screaming at her.
“PIG! BITCH! GO FUCK YOURSELF!”
“ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS!”
The woman narrows her eyes and stares hard. She fantasizes about how easy it would be to squeeze an apology out of the pair; hurting them badly enough to make them beg for forgiveness.
It would be almost effortless for someone with her training; but what would that make her? No better than the thugs she had dedicated her life to fighting.
Shaking her head at the two men, Charli continues walking to her vehicle, parked on the grass away from the ring. Unlocking the front door of her truck, she settles into the driver’s seat.
Now that she has a quiet moment, she notices a piece of glass sticking out of her side. Crawford never went to see the medics for such injuries; these kinds of wounds could be handled on her own.
It takes her a minute or two to pull out the shard, using her first aid kit to clean the wound and wrap it with gauze. She doesn’t make a sound as the glass slides out of her flesh, focusing entirely on her breathing while pushing past the pain.
Tossing the jagged piece into the truck’s ashtray, she reaches into the glove compartment for an audio cassette recorder. This was her last ‘independent’ show before she traveled out of the country for her CU:LT debut.
She had to get something on tape before getting on that plane. Charli presses the ‘REC’ button and sets the object down on the dashboard.
----------
“When I started wrestling, it was nothing more than a paycheck to me. No pleasure taken in the sport of it, no lust for hurting people, no desire for glory.”
“Then I saw the people I’d be fighting. Violent, depraved freaks and uncaring sociopaths.”
“The same sorts that I joined the ATF to put behind bars. The kind who destroy the lives of good, hard working people and poison communities with drugs and crime.”
“The kind of scumbags I love to hold accountable.”
“At first, I assumed I was offered a spot in CU:LT because English saw something in me. Then I learned a bit more about him. I don’t doubt that sick son of a bitch has more skeletons in his closet than the entire roster combined.
“I figure he thinks it’ll be funny to see a former ATF agent dragged through the mud with all the psychos in his playground.”
“Well, Casanova, if you’re expecting to hear me scream for mercy in that ring, you’ll be disappointed. You’re gonna have to look elsewhere for your perverted pleasure.”
“But the reason he sought me out ain’t important now. What is important is that he’s gathered some of the most twisted people in the business under his banner.”
“When I found out that they were all in a place where there ain’t no such thing as ‘excessive force’ to hold me back... I couldn’t sign on the dotted line fast enough.”
“Now, the ‘boss’ has gone ahead and booked me against two veterans, probably looking to break my spirit early. All I gotta say is ‘let them try’.”
“I’d wager Savannah and Jason are gonna come into this match focused on each other, instead of the redneck girl from Kentucky who ain’t had a single match that didn’t take place in a barn or field.”
“That’s just fine by me; I’m used to being overlooked. From the moment I was born, nobody ever thought I would be able to hack it.”
“I’m sure they’ll be too busy working through their own drama to take me seriously. That mistake is gonna cost them.”
“Those two are living proof that there ain’t no room for feelings in this business. All those emotions - anger, sadness, whatever else - are just holding them back.”
“They’re an anchor, weighing them down when they need to be light on their feet.”
“Jason, you’ve been around... but you’ve got no idea what I’ve seen with my own eyes. I wager it’d make whatever you’ve been through look like child’s play.”
“In real life, there ain’t no referee to break things up when they get too serious.”
“Ever catch a bullet in the line of duty? Ever have someone bigger than you trying to plant a knife in your throat? Ever been locked up with hundreds of killers and criminals out for your blood?”
“No?”
“Didn’t think so.”
“I ain’t afraid of your record or your accomplishments, and I damn sure ain’t scared of a couple thumbtacks. All I see when I look at you is someone who thinks way too much about what they’ve done, instead of what they need to do.”
“Living in the past, clinging to old accolades and championships that are long-gone... if that’s what makes you feel good, be my guest.”
“But in my eyes, you’re just another man dead-set on underestimating me. The perfect target to prove that I deserve to be taken seriously in this company.”
“This is America, Jason, not Ireland. We ain’t the type to allow any 'Kings' - or whatever else you wanna call yourself - to look down on us. Might wanna crack open a textbook sometime.”
“Now, Savannah... you’re the one who really caught my attention. Wasn’t an hour into researching you before I saw her.”
“You and my psychotic junkie cousin, beating on Jason and some redhead.”
“Didn’t need to see anything more than that to make up my mind about you.”
“You sicken me, girl. You may look pretty to some, but you ain’t nothing more than a pile of trash with lipstick slapped on it.”
“I’ve known women like you my entire life; going about their days with their legs spread wide open, just looking for some poor soul to wrap themselves around. Parasites who could never make it on their own, without leeching off someone stronger.”
“Might not be so bad, if you had any standards. Even some dignity or self-respect would go a long way. Shame you ain’t got none of that.”
“Jason Long? Andrew Holt?! Billy fucking Bennett?!?!”
“You sure do like to dig deep in the dumpster for your meals, huh? Maybe you were a decent person once upon a time, but you are what you eat, and a diet of filth ain’t done you no favours.”
“A cautionary tale for little girls everywhere. Don’t define yourself by whatever piece of shit you’re sleeping with that week, or you’ll end up like Savannah Andrews.”
“You’re just as bad as the people you surround yourself with, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Yeah, I’m judging you. I ain’t even your peer - would never want to be called that - but I’ll serve as the jury too.”
“The verdict? Guilty by association.”
“And if you make the mistake of ignoring me to settle your issues with Jason... if you think I’m just some rookie you can look down on... then I’m willing to serve as your executioner too.”
----------
Hitting ‘STOP’ and tossing the recorder aside, Charli rests her forehead on the steering wheel.
Maybe signing up with English’s company was a mistake. It feels like there’s some hidden danger that she’s overlooked.
Then again, she’s been waiting for a bullet ever since she walked out of prison.
Compared to that, Charli can’t think of anything that could be lurking in the shadows of CU:LT she should be scared of.
But she’s been surprised before; it’s bound to happen again.
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