Nadia woke up the next morning, her mouth felt like cotton and she felt like her temples were being pricked with pins and needles. It was just another day to get through, despite the few sleepless nights that she's had. Ricochet was on the road for a WWE live event and was booked for RAW as well. She would eventually meet him there shortly but she just wasn't in the right headspace right now.

Actually, she wasn't in the right headspace at all, and she really hasn't been for a while now.

That walking corpse, and that oddly weird song that was eerily cheerful.

She was grateful to have a few days off. She would just come to RAW to support Ricochet, and she wanted to hang out with Dana and Mandy. She texted Dana a few times but Dana had a tight schedule as much as Mandy did.

Still, she wanted to find some way to fix the loneliness within her.

From her father's death, her own mother didn't want her and put her in the system, choosing her new husband over her, and being taken away at 16.

It was fine for her though.

Especially if the man was trying to force himself on her and when she told her mom, she called her a lying little bitch and changed her locks. She abandoned her, practically leaving her out in the cold in time for the foster care workers that were called behind her back, to take her in.

She buried the pain inside. Ricochet didn't know about her true past of home life.

But Bray did. He welcomes her with open arms and comfort, and a way for her to accept that part of herself and who she was.

Convinced her that the darkness is what healed her...as she could remember as a teenager, covered in her stepfather's blood as she remembered coming back to him, as he was alone in his office, as she had been stabbing him over and over again, slitting his throat open and bashing every bit of his skull until his brain matter oozed out from him. To make him feel the pain and humiliation that she had to endure.

"No! Damn it, I was sick. I'm not that woman anymore. I've gotten help" She reminded herself constantly. She held onto the counter, gripping it to keep herself balanced, despite that her knuckles were turning damn near white.

Of course, was it really "help" when the psychiatrist just jotted down his little notes to make some cash and really didn't give less than two fucks about your mental health?

Yeah, sure.

The past was in the past. She needed to stop letting it get to her or her own life would be a mess.

She leaped out of bed, throwing the sheets off of her as she headed into the bathroom to run a hot shower.

She needed to just clear her head. Nothing really made much sense for her anymore. But damn it, she wasn't going to just sit there like some weak delicate little flower. She had shit to do and things to handle.

If only she could maintain a grip on her sanity about 90 percent of the time.

She called Ricochet on the phone, but there was no dial tone. She called again and a few times and still no answer.

She sighed, feeling lonely. It's like no one was even bothered to show a bit of time for her anymore. She was an only child and she's always been seen as the weirdo, who didn't belong. Who did "too much" or "not enough" and felt even less than.

That lost little girl who just wanted to feel accepted and treated like she was important.

God, she needed to get out of these stupid thoughts.

All they brought her was nothing but pain. And then she remembered"All how she used that pain in many ways than one

All the bodies that had been sacrificed to HIM...all the bloodshed, to feed on their pain and their fear. And that fear and pain fueled every bit of the power that she had at the time...it was fucked up. It was sick, twisted, and sadistic.

And she had loved every moment of that time. She felt free. She felt like she could dominate and take over the world of her enemies. She could rip their worlds apart and tear their bodies apart limb by limb by the energy of the Devil.

But SHE knew exactly who was given that energy.

Sister Abigail. She was the spawn of Satan. Bray Wyatt's weakness. And hers as well, as she was a mentor and a teacher to her.

Nadia gasped softly for a moment, damn near caught up in once was darkness.

"This...this isn't me anymore..." She gasped, holding onto the edge of the table. "I am not that person anymore. No."

She went to the bathroom to shower and freshen up for today, ready to see if the police were down there and ready to see if they would be able to track down the horrible thing that killed Andrew.

She shook off the thoughts of the corpse, wanting nothing more than to keep breakfast down right now.

"This...This isn't possible..."

Nadia couldn't believe it. Andrew was alive?

What on fucking earth?

She thought she was dreaming. This couldn't even be fucking possible.

Could it?

Andrew turned around and saw her as he gave her a somewhat gentle smile.

She would almost believe it if it wasn't the feeling of eeriness in her veins.

She stepped back slowly until she made it to her locker room alone. She sat down on the sofa as she rubbed at her temples.

Andrew looked at her with concern. "Is everything ok, Ms. Nadia?"

She blinked for a moment, wanting to make sure that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her again. It wouldn't be the first time anyway.

"Y...Yeah...I'm fine." She cleared her throat nervously. "Just been a bundle of nerves is all, you know." She smiled, trying her best to sound as if she was freaking the hell out.

"Well, being a newly-wed I can only imagine the nerves itself and having a new life, especially with a respectable man like Ricochet."

Nadia smiled and chuckled. "Yes, well." She had to look for Ricochet anyway. Wasn't she suppose to go find him anyway?

She didn't remember. Come to think of it, she didn't remember a lot of things. Maybe her brain was just wired to block out all the bad thoughts, including her past.

Nobody wants to be reminded that she fell in love with a cult leader and that she's done twisted things, wanting to justify her reasoning behind it.

She had to keep reminding herself that she wasn't that person anymore. It didn't matter that the man who was only loving, gentle and protective towards her. He still did horrible things and she couldn't live with that any longer.

"Ok, this is not the time right now. Focus, Nadia." She greeted Andrew goodbye as she went down the hall as to where the WWE men's locker room was located. Maybe she would find her husband there so they could go over for tonight's RAW.

But what the fuck though? Andrew never had his eyes gutted out? And why did that smile of his give her an uneasy feeling? She knows what she saw that night. His eyes were missing. He was in the chair, dead, well ok maybe not dead-dead as that fucker was creeping towards her, but she could've sworn that...

She felt a chill creep over her spine for a moment. Almost as if someone was watching her very closely.

She walked further down the dark hallway, feeling as though it could go in forever and ever.

When she looked behind her though, she didn't see anyone there. It went from a couple of people and Andrew backstage to it being only her.

Her and her alone.

She kept walking down the dark hallway, ignoring the faint whispers in the dark. Everything around her felt so small and the more she kept walking, the more she felt like this goddamn walk to a stupid locker room would go on forever.

Seriously, a girl was wearing heels and it would be great if she could at least sit down, take these bad boys off so she could rest her feet.

Suddenly the overhead lights that were above her were flashing on and off a couple of times.

"Faulty wiring by any chance? She swallowed hard, wishing she was back at home right now.

She took another turn, ignoring the faint whispers, the footsteps, a child's laughter going in and out. They kept saying over and over.

"Let him in. Let him in. Let him in. Let him in."

Why are they chanting this? Where is it coming from?

Why can't they shut the fuck up?

"Shut up! Shut up!" Nadia screamed, digging into her brunette tresses wanting the voices to stop. She threw whatever was in her way, out of anger, frustration, and desperation. Her palms were sweating and she felt the strands of hair sticking to her face.

She pressed her palms onto her eyes as if wanting to cause some kind of a pain to herself. To make herself believe that it was all in her head.

She opened her eyes back up and she almost felt like she wanted to pass out.

The walls...were red and dripping blood. There were eyes everywhere. It was so disturbing. It was like she was inside the monster of a body.

A monstrous, demonic body. She almost couldn't breathe. This had to be her imagination.

Only, it all felt too real to her. She then felt herself going into a daze for a moment, feeling a source of energy and darkness drawing her.

It was HIM. It had to be.

As she turned her head, there he was right there in front of him.

She was terrified and horrified but...her own body didn't move. Didn't even quite react completely, because maybe a small part of her deserved whatever punishment came her way regarding her sins. Nadia felt like she couldn't talk or say a word.

He came closer to her. His eyes were soulless and full of anger, rage, and hatred. Some would say that, from what she's heard is that this abomination from hell is the worst nightmare of all.

Nadia knew at this very moment, that she was face to face, with the Fiend.

He bent down in front of her, as he was face to face with her, the nightmare staring back at her.

"Ok. Now I really don't know which one is worse right now: Being inside a demon's fucking body, me in the mouth gates of hell, or being close to close with a demon who is going to kill me. Oh wait, there's also me losing my mind and I'm not running but I'm scared shitless. I'm frozen." Her mind was racing with numerous thoughts, all of them making this nightmare in front of her more terrifying.

Instead, though, his "Hurt" glove gently grabbed her face for a moment, turning her over as the creepy eyeball in front of her, changed into white, revealing a brief image.

One that left her even more breathless.

"No...No...No..."

Ricochet was dead. He was murdered in cold blood and it was brutal, his insides ripped and torn open and his eyes gouged out completely. Nadia saw who the killer was, as it was her exactly. She looked different, with crazed eyes and enjoying the satisfaction of her dead husband.

"No, No it's a lie. I wouldn't do it!" She closed her eyes rocking back and forth. "I have no reason to kill him! You are fucking sick!"

The Fiend just snarled at her, baring his ugly sharp teeth, but she didn't give a damn. He was a fucking liar. A deceiver. Why would she trust an abomination such as that? She was going to die anyway right? What else does she have to lose?

"Lie." He spoke one word.

It was then she saw a little further into what he meant, considering that one word alone. She felt his eyes pierce into her, the way he said that.

Wh...what was he saying?

Was he saying that she was being lied to? Was he...?

No...No that can't be true. She's not going to believe this.

She can't...

It was then that she fell to the floor, darkness took over her completely as she woke up and everything was back to normal. She saw that she was in the arms of Ricochet and her friends Mandy and Dana were there and a few others, looking worried.

"Oh my God, I'm glad you're ok." He wiped her forehead. "What the hell happened?"

That's what she wanted to know herself. "That...That I wish I could explain."

She just clung onto Ricochet as he carried her to the car, probably to take her home after he caught her completely on the ground, in a catatonic state. She closed her eyes squeezing them tightly, just to block out the dark event that took over in her mind.

But whenever she closed her eyes, all she saw were those yellow demonic eyes.

She had a feeling that this would NOT be the last time she would see the Fiend.

What did he mean by lie though? Lying about what?

And Ricochet...

God maybe some sleep would help her.