Devil on My Shoulder

Becky stared long and hard at her right hand, taking in its features - marveling at what it did, and what it could do. Her palm had connected with Charlotte's face, already soaked in her own, disgusting tears. Her fist had landed blow after blow after blow, each one connecting harder than the last. This was the hand that destroyed a friendship. No, Becky corrected herself. This was the hand that liberated her, freeing her from the massive shadow cast by Flair's ego.

Because it was always about Charlotte. The earth had to stop spinning around the sun to orbit around Charlotte, the apparent center of the universe. Well, tonight wasn't about Charlotte. Nobody would be talking about the glory-hogging pretender that coasted by on her father's name. Tonight was about one person.

Becky Lynch.

That was the way it should've always been. Her hair wasn't blonde, so no one gave her a chance. Her last name wasn't Flair, so no one gave her the opportunity. She didn't 'woo' and she didn't strut, but tonight none of that mattered, because now things were going to change. Charlotte Flair stole her championship, and now the Ric Flair wannabe knew it too.

It felt… In all honesty, Becky didn't actually know how it felt, her mind a swirling pool of confusion and mixed emotion. It couldn't be true. Did she honestly believe any of that? Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe, just maybe, all of this was the bitterness talking. Maybe she should apologize. She could be a bit of a sore loser sometimes. She didn't truly think that Charlotte would intentionally betray her trust like that, did she?

"Charlotte screwed you."

But Becky could hear the voices in her head calling out to her, trying to allay any semblance of doubt that she held in her heart.

"She totally deserved it."

She tried to deny them the satisfaction, but they were getting louder. And louder, until Becky was sure that these weren't voices in her head after all.

"But if you and Charlotte aren't friends anymore, who's going to laugh at your stupid jokes now?"

Becky immediately leapt from her seat, adrenaline still coursing through her red-hot veins from her match. It was only when she saw the sinister smirk of Alexa Bliss that she allowed herself to be calm. Or as calm as one could be after witnessing a trademark Alexa Bliss smirk. "In case you didn't get the memo, I'm not in the mood," Becky stated, cold as ice.

"You know," Alexa continued, largely ignoring Becky's comment. "Charlotte's still crying like a little baby. Her poor widdle feelings were hurt by big bad Becky! Serves her right."

Whenever words left Alexa's mouth, Becky's - well, everybody's - knee-jerk reaction was to yell. However, something she said piqued the Irish woman's interest. "'Serves her right?' What do you mean?"

"Listen," The pint-sized woman gave Becky a comforting look, though even an astronaut could spot the mischievous glint in Alexa's eyes. "What you did to that Ric Flair understudy was completely justified."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Alexa placed a hand over her heart, her other hand resting atop Becky's shoulder. "I know that it can be hard to end a friendship. When Nia started bullying me, day in and day out, I knew I had to get out of there. You can only take so much from a friend before you snap."

"Need me to fetch you a spotlight for this performance?"

"Don't you know that it's rude to interrupt someone while they're talking?" Alexa countered, promptly shushing Becky. With no further comments, aside from a wayward eyeroll, Alexa resumed her 'heartfelt' talk. "For a good, long while, I thought, 'Maybe I'm overreacting,' or, 'Maybe I should talk to her.' It's easy to fall into that trap - I get it, I was there. Sometimes, these things are necessary. After what Charlotte did to you, I'd say that you made the right call."

Becky grunted, slapping Alexa's hand away from her shoulder. "And you know what the 'right call' is, huh? You're the spokesperson for broken friendships. Is that it now? The poster-child for moral righteousness - Alexa Bliss."

"You're angry."

"You're damn right I'm angry!" Becky was raising her voice, causing Alexa to take a step back. "I worked my ass off for this, and for what? What have I got to show for it? Nothing. Because-"

"Because of Charlotte. She played you, Becky. All of that friendship, all of that 'tea.' All of it was a plan to weasel her way into your match - the match that you earned - and take your title right from under you."

"But what I did out there. After."

Becky stopped herself. What was happening here? Was she seriously allowing this manipulative little witch to tell her that what she did was right? She knew that Alexa loved to stir the pot - to cause trouble just for fun - she knew that. Why, then, did Alexa make so much sense? Why was her brain screaming at her to accept it?

"I have to get ready for my match," Alexa stated, knocking Becky away from her thoughts. "Remember what I said. Don't let your own Nia get the better of you."

Becky barely heard Alexa's words, barely noticed that Alexa had even walked away. Her mind was preoccupied on showing her one thing - the beatdown of Charlotte. She replayed it over and over like a playlist of catchy songs. Only this time, the song that was stuck in her head was the sound of the referee's hand hitting the mat. The next song - her personal favorite - was the sound of her hand colliding against Charlotte's face. The final song, the distant sobs that came from Charlotte's throat, as if she had any reason - any right - to cry.

Alexa was right, but more importantly, Becky was right. Maybe she was right to do what she did, and maybe it was right to end their so-called friendship. Maybe it was justified to end the facade known as 'Charlotte Flair.'

And maybe - maybe it felt good.