it's do or die [siobhan's road to the factory]

[Siobhan Rojas]

March 1st, 2018

The bedrooms in the halfway house in Brooklyn left much to be desired. Two single beds were shoved up against the outer walls on either side of the room with tiny bedside tables in between. The walls were a dirty cream colour with no decorations at all. One bed had a few small Polaroid pictures taped to the wall next to it. One was of a heavily-tattooed, jacked man with a huge grin on his face revealing a few missing teeth. His arm was laced over a tiny faux-redhead who was mid-laugh. And in the next photo was a young boy, maybe two years old. Both photos had faded and wrinkled over time.

The same redhead from the photo sat on the bed, her legs tucked beneath her. Siobhan Rojas had been released from prison one month ago, relegated to a halfway house and serving at a local diner, giving a percentage of her wage right back to the house for room and board. Her fluorescent locks were tied back into a messy ponytail as she scribbled in a notebook that was on her lap. The ex-con wore a pair of ripped black jeans and a cropped camo hoodie that was distressed. A pair of black Dr. Marten’s completed her look.

A knock at the door drew her gaze upwards. Her counselor stood at the door. Siobhan let out a soft sigh.

“Piss test?” she asked. Of course, a condition of her parole was that she remained sober. And honestly, who wouldn’t want to be sober living in this dream home?

“You have a visitor, Ms. Rojas.”

“Mrs.” She corrected. People always looked at her and assumed she’s unwed. Not only is she young, but she looks even younger.

“Follow me.” He headed out the door and lead Siobhan down the hallways towards his office. It wasn’t like she had a choice but to follow him. She may have been released from real prison, but this was just a different form of it.

He opened the door and let her in but didn't follow. Sitting behind the desk is a gorgeous dark-skinned man with short hair and a smirk on his face. A look of confusion spreads across Siobhan’s face as she registers who he is.

“Dixon?”

“It’s D-Money.” She couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped her mouth as she stepped closer to the desk and flopped down in the seat in front of it. Gang names always made her giggle. Sometimes they were absolutely ridiculous. Thank god Maddox was a murderer. At least his name was cool. But she had known Dixon from childhood so she refused to call him by his stupid thug name.

“What do you want, Dix?”

“I’ve come to collect.”

“Collect what? I don’t owe you fuck all. I kept my mouth shut and I did my time.”

He shook his head and leaned forward in the chair, propping his elbows up on the desk. “You and Meurte lost a lot of product that we’ll never get back. You need to repay us for that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Siobhan’s eyes narrowed. “First of all, I know Dax is moving product for you on the inside right now. Second of all, we’d just done a pick-up. Are you really trying to tell me that was a coincidence? Fuck that, Dix. That was an inside job and I don’t owe you shit. I could have turned you all in.”

The fact that they were still dwelling on product confiscated over five years ago blew her mind. You’d think that a major drug gang could afford to lose product. Realistically, they didn’t give a fuck about the lost product. They just wanted to use Siobhan. They needed something to hold over her head and this was it. And without Maddox standing between her and the gang, she was defenseless.

Dixon stood up and walked around the desk. He leaned on the desk, directly in front of the redhead.

“We both know if you did that you wouldn’t be sitting here, breathing, right now.” She kissed her teeth as she glared up at him. “Just be glad Guillermo thinks you’re valuable. We heard what you did to that nazi bitch on the inside.”

She simply shrugged. “You know prison, it’s more segregated than the 1930’s. The nazi’s didn’t take kindly to me associating with the hispanics - so I broke her arm. No one fucked with me after that.”

Being a white girl in the notorious hispanic gang had its complications. Back when she joined, she was the first person without any hispanic blood allowed in. It’s 2018 now so they’re a little less strict. In prison, it was simple survival. You pick the toughest bitch in the yard and you break her arm. After that you get respect. Helps to have the 718’s protection on the inside as well.

“You can fight, Xtina.” He seemed almost proud of her. Siobhan rolled her eyes. Everyone in the gang always underestimated her. They called her Xtina because she was soft and white, like cocaine. Only Maddox saw her true potential and knew how tough she truly was.

“Yeah. And?”

“And we’re going to put that to use.” The eyebrow of Mrs. Murder arched in confusion. “There’s a new place in Jersey called the Factory. It’s this skeezy hardcore wrestling company and you’ve got a contract.” Dixon leaned down and gently touched a strand of Siobhan’s hair. “You start mid-March so we’ve got a few weeks to make sure you’re ready.”

She shoved her chair backwards and shot to her feet, taking a few steps away from Dixon. Playing cat and mouse with the Diablos was the last thing that she wanted to do.

“I’m not a fucking wrestler. What’s the point?”

“The point is that you have a debt to repay. So you’re going to take this job and repay it.”

She laughed at him again, folding her arms across her chest. “You really think working at some piece of shit wrestling company is going to repay the thousands of dollars I owe you?”

If professional wrestling paid that much, she was sure everyone would be doing it.

Dixon took a few steps towards Siobhan, closing the distance between them. “Don’t play dumb, Blanca. You won’t just be wrestling. You’ll be supplying party favors too.”

He pulled a small baggy out of his pocket, filled with white powder. Holding it between first two fingers, the gangbanger flicked it at Siobhan and she caught it. She stared at it for a few moments, trying to think of how she could get herself out of this.

“I-”

Before she could finish, Dixon cut her off. “Remember, your dearly beloved is locked behind bars with a lot of Diablos. He’s expendable.”

The New Yorker grit her teeth as she stared a hole in Dixon. She didn’t have a reply for this. If she didn’t agree, she’d end up signing hers and Maddox’s death certificates. And if she did comply, she’d most likely end up back in prison.

“Don’t worry. We’ll train you for a few weeks before you start. I know a guy.” The gangbanger headed towards the door, leaving Siobhan standing in the middle of her counselor’s office, holding drugs. He stopped right as he placed his hand on the doorknob and glanced back at her. “We start training tomorrow. We’ll make you a star yet.”

He let out a laugh, at her expense. “You’ll need to do a pickup too. You’ll be selling more than just blow. Those wrestlers put their bodies through hell. I feel like pills will be more up your customer’s alley.”

And with that he left, leaving the door open behind him. Siobhan quickly shoved the baggy of cocaine in her back pocket before her counselor came back in the room.

"Motherfucker." She muttered under her breathe, her finger nails digging into her palms in her balled-up fists.

Siobhan Rojas didn’t know the first thing about professional wrestling. All she wanted was to live a quiet life, pay her dues and get her kid back. And now, she was being sucked back in to the game. It was that or die.