Post by Deleted on May 13, 2015 11:09:02 GMT -6
Demons, we all have them. My demons are well documented. Addiction, self centeredness, pride. I have fought long and hard to try to curtail these demons, but my attempts have been futile in some areas. Yes, I’ve conquered my addiction, in the eyes of some, but I fight the urges every day. Others battle different afflictions. Overeating, Anorexia, fears. Then there’s Al Envy. The man is a treasure trove of demons. Delusions of grandeur, pride, lust, ego, insecurity. Wait, but how can he both be full of himself and insecure about himself? The answer is quite simple. He is SO afraid of who he is, and his lot in life, that he creates a persona so larger than life that he actually believes the stories he tells himself.
My day began like any other. I woke up. Simplistic I know, a detail that some would think is insignificant, but is it really? Fresh off my breakup with Dazielle Molaroni, I was awaking in my bed, alone. I told myself it was no big deal, but I knew. I knew that there was an emptiness there that I couldn’t quite conquer. I wanted so badly to have her here, but I know that it is not possible, and maybe it’s for the better.
I had just gotten the call a few nights ago that I was to sign my contract to face Al Envy at the following Ignite for a chance at the World Heavyweight Championship. A prize that eluded me just a month ago. Sure you could make the excuse that my mind was weighted with grief, with excitement for my budding relationship, but in the end it was my own fault. I allowed myself to get distracted. I lost focus on what I had set out to do, and that was to be the NEW World Heavyweight Champion. Not this time.
I stepped out of my cold bed onto the hardwood floor in my studio apartment in downtown Chicago. It was a new city for me, I’d never really made residence anywhere but Minnesota. I loved Minnesota, it was home to me, but I needed to be closer to NEW, to the arena, to the training facilities. It was important now, more than ever, for me to make my mark in NEW. I was straddling a line that would cause me to either plummett deep into a world of insignificance, or being on top of the world. I was teetering on the cusp of grabbing that brass ring, or letting it again slip through my fingers.
I have been on the top of the mountain before. Regarded as the savior of US Wrestling, the first true Amateur Wrestler since Kurt Angle to really excite the world. The next wrestling wunderkind. A guy that could win Olympic Gold, and stand atop the podium hearing the Star Spangled Banner, have the Red White and Blue waving in the background and that shiny gold medal around his neck. I was the future. I threw that away for money, for fame. I was chasing stardom. I wanted to be known as more than just an Olympian. I wanted to be known as the champion of the greatest professional wrestling brand in the WORLD. I wanted to take over NEW.
The entire country was disappointed with my decision. My father refused to speak to me for 3 years. I didn’t care. I was making myself somebody. Then I hurt myself. I flew too close to the sun and like Icarus, I came crashing back to Earth. It was all taken from me as fast as I’d gotten it. Everybody knows this story. I poured myself a hot cup of coffee, fried up two eggs, and a half a pound of bacon, and sat down at the island in my kitchen. A hearty breakfast was the key to a great day, and my day was busy. Training, film study, more training, and then I had to pack. I was flying out to Montana for an interview on KFBB News, serving Great Falls and Helena. Why Jesse had me flying out there while Al Envy was on the Today Show was beyond me, but like a good little soldier I was going to follow orders. That’s not to say I didn’t have a plan though.
I got dressed, putting on a pair of ripped blue jeans, and a button up shirt. I stepped outside into the cool crisp Chicago air. The wind was biting just a touch, making it feel cooler than it was, but I didn’t mind. I grew up in the cold, so this was nothing new to me. Backpack on, I began jogging down the sidewalk, heading towards NEW Arena to hit the gym. You know the saying, “Never skip leg day.” I had no intentions of that. I was going to need my legs to keep up with Al Envy.
My body was still sore from Demented. I had taken some shots in the ring against Jordan Mercer. Nothing I couldn’t handle. I wrapped that match up quickly, then retired to my locker room. I had downed a handful of pain meds, and chased them with a protein shake. I knew my body had to feel a hundred percent for me to get in that ring properly against Al. Even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t feel the pain or I would become distracted.
Finally I reached the gym. I went in, and quickly changed into my gym clothes. I reached into my bag, and took a look around. Nobody was there so I popped 5 Oxycontin into my mouth, and swallowed hard. I put my earbuds in, strapped my phone to my arm, and I went out there. I needed a nice warmup. Get my blood pumping, so I ran ropes. 30 minutes, back and forth I bounced, ignoring the burning in my legs, the heavy beat of my heart. I felt euphoric, untouchable. I climbed out of the ring, there were a few newbies watching, admiring my work ethic. They decided that was the course of action for them, and hopped into the ring.
I walked across the gym, and began my leg workouts. 50 reps at 800 lbs, pressing with my legs. I knew I could do more, but went for reps not max. Maxout would be later in the day. My thighs were on fire, but I blocked out the pain. The Oxy helped. I moved over to the power rack. I packed on 800 pounds there. I lifted the bar off the rack, and dropped down, pushing myself back up with the power of my legs. I squated 30 times, and then rested the bar on the pegs. I took a swig of my protein shake. Wiped the sweat from my brow and did it again. 30 times at 800 pounds. People were staring. It’s as if they had never seen someone squat before. I considered myself to be pretty strong, but I certainly wasn’t the most powerful man in New Edge Wrestling.
Following the squats I continued my leg routine, leg extensions, leg curls, weighted calf extensions, weighted lunges, and then did a 2 mile run pulling 300 lbs behind me. My shirt was drenched in sweat, but I was feeling good. The burning in my thighs was extreme, but I continued to block it out. My calves were on fire, but I put the feeling out of my mind. The only thing I thought about was that NEW Title around my waist, that and Dazielle on my arm. I had this delusion in my head that the title would bring her back. I knew better, but it drove me so I didn’t fight it.
It was time for my cool off. Another 30 minutes of ropes. I hopped in the ring, and ran. I ran hard. Rebounding back and forth like a ping pong ball. I was a human version of Pong, and I loved it. I never felt more at home than in the wrestling ring. It was the only constant in my life. No matter the city, the bed, the person with me, the ring was always right there. That was a feeling that brought joy to me. That and hearing the roars of the crowd. The boos, the cheers, the applause. Perhaps I should get back to myself. I was so worried about doing the necessities to get to the top that I had forgotten what got me there. I was trying to hard to be like Al Envy.
Why do I say that? Al Envy was a man that couldn’t get it done on his own. He never had. Dating back to TEW. He couldn’t hack it, so what does he do? He hitches his wagon to a 400 pound black man named Chester. Chester carried Al to tag team gold, and a Hall of Fame slot in TEW’s history books. A book that has long since been closed.
When TEW folded Al found himself in NEW. Again, unable to get the job done, he grasped the coattails of anyone that would bring him along for the ride. He tried to continue his run with Chester, but Chester grew tired of carrying Al, leading to an early retirement. Al would eventually Align himself with former right hand man to Jesse Styles, the legendary Xavier Xanon Xanders. Once that well dried up, he would Align himself with Johnny Stylez, the cousin of Owner Jesse Styles.
I think you’re seeing a pattern here. Who needed six degrees of separation when you had a lone middleman. He also aligned with then right hand man Ryan Pugh. Now look at him. Who has he aligned himself with? None other than the sister of Jesse Style’s wife.
Now I’m not saying that Al Envy has been getting his opportunities, opportunities that include: facing inferior talent, lack of defenses of his TransAtlantic Title, (a title that was once defended on a near weekly basis) and now an undeserved shot at the now Vacant World Heavyweight Title, because of his proximity to Jesse Styles. I’m also not saying that it’s not true. We’ll let the Jury of Fans decide that. I have my beliefs, but I’m not one to accuse someone of Nepotism, especially when the guilty party is signing my checks.
I stepped out of the ring following my cooldown, and made my way back to the locker room. I hopped in the shower, then took myself a nice ice bath to let my body, and the swelling involved with my injuries to heal up. I felt good. Just sitting there. Thinking about everything. This match was right in my wheelhouse. No gimmicks, no special stipulations, just a straight wrestling match. Everyone knows that I am the best pure wrestler in the world, and Al Envy was going to see that first hand. He may know a few basics, but I have forgotten more about wrestling than he will EVER know. I have been wrestling my whole life, studied every single aspect, every variance, every hold, every submission. I was a wrestling machine. An encyclopedia of wrestling. and Al Envy was going to find that out first hand.
I reached over to the table beside the tank that I was sitting in. Digging through my backpack I pulled out my bottle of Oxy. I pulled the cap off, and stared in there. There was a voice inside of me that said I didn’t need them. I knew I didn’t need them. The pain was there, but I could manage it. I’ve been in pain before. I’ve felt pain in my life, and I didn’t need pills to overcome it. They had become a crutch. I took a deep breath, and felt the stabbing in my lungs. One of my ribs had shifted just enough. The pain was excruciating. I pushed that voice aside, and threw back the bottle, swallowing several pills.
I was angry. I was angry with myself for succumbing to such a crutch. I hated having flaws. In the eyes of the world I was the epitome of perfection. A champion, an All-American Midwestern boy. I was a success story. Overcoming my addiction to alcohol, marrying a beautiful woman, having a gorgeous child. I had the world by the balls. It came crashing down and my first step was to drown it out with pills. The pills weren’t for physical pain. They were to stop the emotional pain that ripped inside of me.
I knew right there it was time to stop this addiction, but how? I picked up my phone, scrolling through my contacts list. I scrolled through, and stopped at Sarah’s name. I knew she COULD help me, but would she. I had to try. I needed her, and I know there is a part of her that still loves me. There has to be, I couldn’t imagine her not still having that love for me. I needed to know she did. I hit send on my keypad, and the phone ring. A man’s voice answered.
“Hello?”
I sat silently. Frozen. I couldn’t hear this. I didn’t want to hear it, but I was frozen.
“Hello?” He said again.
I looked at my phone, my heart had sunk to the floor of the tub. It dropped like a rock, drowning in despair. How could I possibly have been replaced. I quickly hung up the phone and threw it into my bag.
The anger filled inside of me. How could she? How could she bring another man into my house like that. A house I had provided for her. A house I refused to fight to keep because I wanted my daughter to stay in that house. It was her house. It wasn’t for Sarah. It was for Haylee, and how could I take her house away from her. I kicked the end of the tub, and climbed out. A voice in the background sounded.
“Hey, what’s going on there champ?”
The voice was eerily familiar. I could tell it anywhere. It was Davey Dynamo’s voice. It wasn’t possible. Davey was dead.
“You failed at Demented. I had built you up to that point. I had given you the opportunity. I made a deal with the devil himself in order to get you into that match, and what did I get in return. I killed myself to keep you on track. I sacrificed myself to let you have your glory, and you failed me.”
I looked behind me. Not sure what to expect. All I saw was a mirror. A mirror with my reflection. I walked towards it, and Davey’s face grew into the mirror, staring back at me.
“You let Al Envy disrespect my memory without doing anything about it. You were given a shot to put yourself at an advantage and you failed to take it. Have I taught you nothing? Does the phrase ‘Any means necessary,’ not resonate with you?”
“They do, but I gave my word, no attacks.”
“So you’re just going to be the good little soldier? You’re going to allow yourself to be disrespected, allow ME to be disrespected in the name of your word. Is your word really worth that much? Has ANYONE really reached the top by being a good boy, by doing the right thing all of the time?”
“Well…”
“NO!”
I shook my head. It had to be the Oxy. There was no way I was talking to Davey Dynamo. I was talking to myself. I was imagining it. A voice behind me spoke.
“I’m not just some mind trick, I’m as real as can be.” Davey’s face was now in the mirror behind me.
“NO YOU’RE NOT!” I threw my phone at the mirror, shattering it.
“I’m over here.” His face was in another mirror. I struck it hard with my fist and it shattered.
“Missed.” His face in another mirror. He taunted me as I broke every mirror in the room. I tipped over the bath tubs, knocked over lockers. I had destroyed the locker room, and I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. He was mocking me. He was tormenting me. The door creaked open, as a face peeked in, seeing the destruction.
“DUDE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE LOCKER ROOM?!”
“Get the fuck out of here!” I yelled, pointing at the door.
“Jesse is going to be pissed.” He replied.
“I DON’T CARE. LEAVE, NOW, or you’ll be another part of the mess in here.” I stared bullets into him. I could see him shrinking as he slowly edged out of the locker room. My hands were bloody, my heart racing harder and harder. I walked over to my bag, popped two more Oxy, got dressed, and walked out, dripping blood with each step, leaving a trail.
I walked back to my apartment, unaware of anything but the movement of my feet. Each step, thudding hard against the concrete. Each movement labored. The pain in my body was amplified. I had so much Oxy running through me, yet I was more aware of every sense in my body than ever. I knew I was losing it. I was losing my fight, and I needed to get out of my head.
I edged into a bar a block from my house. I hadn’t been in a bar since my arrest. It had initially been a stipulation of my release. I was prohibited from drinking. That had since expired. I sat down on the bar stool. Unaware of my appearance the bartender set down a glass of whiskey on the bar in front of me.
“You look like you could use this.” He said.
I looked down at the glass. The amber colored liquid just floating there. I felt the urge run through me.
“Just one drink, what could it hurt?” I thought. I continued staring. My heart beating. Every ounce of me wanting to feel that sweet nectar penetrate my lips, swish around in my mouth. The strong taste igniting my tastebuds to life.
“It’s not going to hurt you, hell, it’s on the house. If money is your worry.” The bartender said.
I looked up at him, I knew he was trying to be nice, but my anger was raging. He had just patronized me. He had offended me, was mocking me. He was insinuating that I couldn’t take care of myself. I had heard enough. I grasped the glass in my hand, lifting it towards my face.
“There ya go, see, the cure to all that ails.” The bartender urged.
That was enough. I snapped. I grabbed him by the collar, and smashed the glass against his head, and then pulled him down repeatedly, smashing his head against the bar. Several patrons ran over, pulling me away from the bartender. I started fighting them off. I threw one over the bar, slamming another into a pile of chairs in the corner. I couldn’t see anything except Al Envy’s face on each of these men. The man that disrespected me. Disrespected my friend, my family, a man that used me to try to get a leg up in the Battlemania tournament. I grabbed the last guy who was swinging hard. Not hard enough. I didn’t feel his blows. I pulled him in, and wrapped him up tight, and then slammed him hard with a belly to belly suplex through a bar stool.
I looked around the room at the carnage I had just created. It wasn’t good. I had screwed up. I knew it, instantly my instincts took over. I ran. I left the bar, running full speed down the sidewalk. I arrived at my building, opened the door, and ran up the steps to my apartment. I flung open the door, ran in, and slammed it behind me. Leaning on the door as if I were trying to keep someone from getting in. My heart raced. I could feel the heart pound.
I crossed the room, looking at the clock. Still shaking. My body tense. 3:00 PM. SHIT! I had to get on the plane to Montana in 2 hours. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the airport on time. I ran outside with nothing but my clothes I had wore to the gym, and my gym bag still on my back. I hailed a cab and paid him four hundred dollars to get to the airport as fast as possible.
I pulled up the airline’s website on my phone, and checked in electronically. The joys of technology. I glanced at the clock, as the cabbie weaved in and out of traffic. He was making excellent time. I was just 5 miles from the airport and I still had 45 minutes. Then it stopped. Traffic, backed up. A semi truck tipped over. I looked at the cabbie, he shrugged at me.
“Sorry, to get through this it’s going to be at least an hour,” he said in a thick Russian accent.
I threw open the door, and climbed out, the cabbie yelling after me, I took off running. I ran as fast as I could. My only thought was making that plane. I had to get to Montana. I had to escape this city. I ran, the entire five miles, body still burning from my workout. I blocked out the pain. Cars were honking at me as I ran past them. I ignored the sound, exited the freeway towards the airport, and ran right up to the main doors.
I had 30 minutes to get through security. I looked at the line. It wasn’t that bad. I ran up, quickly threw my shoes, and backpack on the line, and walked through the metal detector. No ring. Perfect. I went to grab my bag and shoes, and was stopped.
“Excuse me sir, we’re going to have to search you.”
“Why? I am going to be late for my flight.”
“Sir, standard procedure. I just need to run my wand over you quick, give you a quick pat down, and you can be on your way.”
I rolled my eyes at the inconvenience, but complied. I couldn’t have any more outbursts, especially not in an airport. I took a long deep breath, and let him go through his process.
Finally he finished, and without putting my shoes on, I ran to my gate. I got there just in time. They were about to close the doors, I gave them my boarding pass, and ran down the ramp to my plane, and plopped in my chair, exhausted and in pain. I reached in my bag, grabbed my Oxy and my phone. I popped two more and chased them with a ginger ale that was given to me by the Flight Attendant. I scrolled through my contacts list, stopping at Dazi’s name. I clicked on it, opening my text messaging app. I quickly mashed the keyboard, and hit send.
“I love you,” Is what the message read. I shut down the phone, put it back in my bag, and laid back, finally able to rest.
My day began like any other. I woke up. Simplistic I know, a detail that some would think is insignificant, but is it really? Fresh off my breakup with Dazielle Molaroni, I was awaking in my bed, alone. I told myself it was no big deal, but I knew. I knew that there was an emptiness there that I couldn’t quite conquer. I wanted so badly to have her here, but I know that it is not possible, and maybe it’s for the better.
I had just gotten the call a few nights ago that I was to sign my contract to face Al Envy at the following Ignite for a chance at the World Heavyweight Championship. A prize that eluded me just a month ago. Sure you could make the excuse that my mind was weighted with grief, with excitement for my budding relationship, but in the end it was my own fault. I allowed myself to get distracted. I lost focus on what I had set out to do, and that was to be the NEW World Heavyweight Champion. Not this time.
I stepped out of my cold bed onto the hardwood floor in my studio apartment in downtown Chicago. It was a new city for me, I’d never really made residence anywhere but Minnesota. I loved Minnesota, it was home to me, but I needed to be closer to NEW, to the arena, to the training facilities. It was important now, more than ever, for me to make my mark in NEW. I was straddling a line that would cause me to either plummett deep into a world of insignificance, or being on top of the world. I was teetering on the cusp of grabbing that brass ring, or letting it again slip through my fingers.
I have been on the top of the mountain before. Regarded as the savior of US Wrestling, the first true Amateur Wrestler since Kurt Angle to really excite the world. The next wrestling wunderkind. A guy that could win Olympic Gold, and stand atop the podium hearing the Star Spangled Banner, have the Red White and Blue waving in the background and that shiny gold medal around his neck. I was the future. I threw that away for money, for fame. I was chasing stardom. I wanted to be known as more than just an Olympian. I wanted to be known as the champion of the greatest professional wrestling brand in the WORLD. I wanted to take over NEW.
The entire country was disappointed with my decision. My father refused to speak to me for 3 years. I didn’t care. I was making myself somebody. Then I hurt myself. I flew too close to the sun and like Icarus, I came crashing back to Earth. It was all taken from me as fast as I’d gotten it. Everybody knows this story. I poured myself a hot cup of coffee, fried up two eggs, and a half a pound of bacon, and sat down at the island in my kitchen. A hearty breakfast was the key to a great day, and my day was busy. Training, film study, more training, and then I had to pack. I was flying out to Montana for an interview on KFBB News, serving Great Falls and Helena. Why Jesse had me flying out there while Al Envy was on the Today Show was beyond me, but like a good little soldier I was going to follow orders. That’s not to say I didn’t have a plan though.
I got dressed, putting on a pair of ripped blue jeans, and a button up shirt. I stepped outside into the cool crisp Chicago air. The wind was biting just a touch, making it feel cooler than it was, but I didn’t mind. I grew up in the cold, so this was nothing new to me. Backpack on, I began jogging down the sidewalk, heading towards NEW Arena to hit the gym. You know the saying, “Never skip leg day.” I had no intentions of that. I was going to need my legs to keep up with Al Envy.
My body was still sore from Demented. I had taken some shots in the ring against Jordan Mercer. Nothing I couldn’t handle. I wrapped that match up quickly, then retired to my locker room. I had downed a handful of pain meds, and chased them with a protein shake. I knew my body had to feel a hundred percent for me to get in that ring properly against Al. Even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t feel the pain or I would become distracted.
Finally I reached the gym. I went in, and quickly changed into my gym clothes. I reached into my bag, and took a look around. Nobody was there so I popped 5 Oxycontin into my mouth, and swallowed hard. I put my earbuds in, strapped my phone to my arm, and I went out there. I needed a nice warmup. Get my blood pumping, so I ran ropes. 30 minutes, back and forth I bounced, ignoring the burning in my legs, the heavy beat of my heart. I felt euphoric, untouchable. I climbed out of the ring, there were a few newbies watching, admiring my work ethic. They decided that was the course of action for them, and hopped into the ring.
I walked across the gym, and began my leg workouts. 50 reps at 800 lbs, pressing with my legs. I knew I could do more, but went for reps not max. Maxout would be later in the day. My thighs were on fire, but I blocked out the pain. The Oxy helped. I moved over to the power rack. I packed on 800 pounds there. I lifted the bar off the rack, and dropped down, pushing myself back up with the power of my legs. I squated 30 times, and then rested the bar on the pegs. I took a swig of my protein shake. Wiped the sweat from my brow and did it again. 30 times at 800 pounds. People were staring. It’s as if they had never seen someone squat before. I considered myself to be pretty strong, but I certainly wasn’t the most powerful man in New Edge Wrestling.
Following the squats I continued my leg routine, leg extensions, leg curls, weighted calf extensions, weighted lunges, and then did a 2 mile run pulling 300 lbs behind me. My shirt was drenched in sweat, but I was feeling good. The burning in my thighs was extreme, but I continued to block it out. My calves were on fire, but I put the feeling out of my mind. The only thing I thought about was that NEW Title around my waist, that and Dazielle on my arm. I had this delusion in my head that the title would bring her back. I knew better, but it drove me so I didn’t fight it.
It was time for my cool off. Another 30 minutes of ropes. I hopped in the ring, and ran. I ran hard. Rebounding back and forth like a ping pong ball. I was a human version of Pong, and I loved it. I never felt more at home than in the wrestling ring. It was the only constant in my life. No matter the city, the bed, the person with me, the ring was always right there. That was a feeling that brought joy to me. That and hearing the roars of the crowd. The boos, the cheers, the applause. Perhaps I should get back to myself. I was so worried about doing the necessities to get to the top that I had forgotten what got me there. I was trying to hard to be like Al Envy.
Why do I say that? Al Envy was a man that couldn’t get it done on his own. He never had. Dating back to TEW. He couldn’t hack it, so what does he do? He hitches his wagon to a 400 pound black man named Chester. Chester carried Al to tag team gold, and a Hall of Fame slot in TEW’s history books. A book that has long since been closed.
When TEW folded Al found himself in NEW. Again, unable to get the job done, he grasped the coattails of anyone that would bring him along for the ride. He tried to continue his run with Chester, but Chester grew tired of carrying Al, leading to an early retirement. Al would eventually Align himself with former right hand man to Jesse Styles, the legendary Xavier Xanon Xanders. Once that well dried up, he would Align himself with Johnny Stylez, the cousin of Owner Jesse Styles.
I think you’re seeing a pattern here. Who needed six degrees of separation when you had a lone middleman. He also aligned with then right hand man Ryan Pugh. Now look at him. Who has he aligned himself with? None other than the sister of Jesse Style’s wife.
Now I’m not saying that Al Envy has been getting his opportunities, opportunities that include: facing inferior talent, lack of defenses of his TransAtlantic Title, (a title that was once defended on a near weekly basis) and now an undeserved shot at the now Vacant World Heavyweight Title, because of his proximity to Jesse Styles. I’m also not saying that it’s not true. We’ll let the Jury of Fans decide that. I have my beliefs, but I’m not one to accuse someone of Nepotism, especially when the guilty party is signing my checks.
I stepped out of the ring following my cooldown, and made my way back to the locker room. I hopped in the shower, then took myself a nice ice bath to let my body, and the swelling involved with my injuries to heal up. I felt good. Just sitting there. Thinking about everything. This match was right in my wheelhouse. No gimmicks, no special stipulations, just a straight wrestling match. Everyone knows that I am the best pure wrestler in the world, and Al Envy was going to see that first hand. He may know a few basics, but I have forgotten more about wrestling than he will EVER know. I have been wrestling my whole life, studied every single aspect, every variance, every hold, every submission. I was a wrestling machine. An encyclopedia of wrestling. and Al Envy was going to find that out first hand.
I reached over to the table beside the tank that I was sitting in. Digging through my backpack I pulled out my bottle of Oxy. I pulled the cap off, and stared in there. There was a voice inside of me that said I didn’t need them. I knew I didn’t need them. The pain was there, but I could manage it. I’ve been in pain before. I’ve felt pain in my life, and I didn’t need pills to overcome it. They had become a crutch. I took a deep breath, and felt the stabbing in my lungs. One of my ribs had shifted just enough. The pain was excruciating. I pushed that voice aside, and threw back the bottle, swallowing several pills.
I was angry. I was angry with myself for succumbing to such a crutch. I hated having flaws. In the eyes of the world I was the epitome of perfection. A champion, an All-American Midwestern boy. I was a success story. Overcoming my addiction to alcohol, marrying a beautiful woman, having a gorgeous child. I had the world by the balls. It came crashing down and my first step was to drown it out with pills. The pills weren’t for physical pain. They were to stop the emotional pain that ripped inside of me.
I knew right there it was time to stop this addiction, but how? I picked up my phone, scrolling through my contacts list. I scrolled through, and stopped at Sarah’s name. I knew she COULD help me, but would she. I had to try. I needed her, and I know there is a part of her that still loves me. There has to be, I couldn’t imagine her not still having that love for me. I needed to know she did. I hit send on my keypad, and the phone ring. A man’s voice answered.
“Hello?”
I sat silently. Frozen. I couldn’t hear this. I didn’t want to hear it, but I was frozen.
“Hello?” He said again.
I looked at my phone, my heart had sunk to the floor of the tub. It dropped like a rock, drowning in despair. How could I possibly have been replaced. I quickly hung up the phone and threw it into my bag.
The anger filled inside of me. How could she? How could she bring another man into my house like that. A house I had provided for her. A house I refused to fight to keep because I wanted my daughter to stay in that house. It was her house. It wasn’t for Sarah. It was for Haylee, and how could I take her house away from her. I kicked the end of the tub, and climbed out. A voice in the background sounded.
“Hey, what’s going on there champ?”
The voice was eerily familiar. I could tell it anywhere. It was Davey Dynamo’s voice. It wasn’t possible. Davey was dead.
“You failed at Demented. I had built you up to that point. I had given you the opportunity. I made a deal with the devil himself in order to get you into that match, and what did I get in return. I killed myself to keep you on track. I sacrificed myself to let you have your glory, and you failed me.”
I looked behind me. Not sure what to expect. All I saw was a mirror. A mirror with my reflection. I walked towards it, and Davey’s face grew into the mirror, staring back at me.
“You let Al Envy disrespect my memory without doing anything about it. You were given a shot to put yourself at an advantage and you failed to take it. Have I taught you nothing? Does the phrase ‘Any means necessary,’ not resonate with you?”
“They do, but I gave my word, no attacks.”
“So you’re just going to be the good little soldier? You’re going to allow yourself to be disrespected, allow ME to be disrespected in the name of your word. Is your word really worth that much? Has ANYONE really reached the top by being a good boy, by doing the right thing all of the time?”
“Well…”
“NO!”
I shook my head. It had to be the Oxy. There was no way I was talking to Davey Dynamo. I was talking to myself. I was imagining it. A voice behind me spoke.
“I’m not just some mind trick, I’m as real as can be.” Davey’s face was now in the mirror behind me.
“NO YOU’RE NOT!” I threw my phone at the mirror, shattering it.
“I’m over here.” His face was in another mirror. I struck it hard with my fist and it shattered.
“Missed.” His face in another mirror. He taunted me as I broke every mirror in the room. I tipped over the bath tubs, knocked over lockers. I had destroyed the locker room, and I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. He was mocking me. He was tormenting me. The door creaked open, as a face peeked in, seeing the destruction.
“DUDE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE LOCKER ROOM?!”
“Get the fuck out of here!” I yelled, pointing at the door.
“Jesse is going to be pissed.” He replied.
“I DON’T CARE. LEAVE, NOW, or you’ll be another part of the mess in here.” I stared bullets into him. I could see him shrinking as he slowly edged out of the locker room. My hands were bloody, my heart racing harder and harder. I walked over to my bag, popped two more Oxy, got dressed, and walked out, dripping blood with each step, leaving a trail.
I walked back to my apartment, unaware of anything but the movement of my feet. Each step, thudding hard against the concrete. Each movement labored. The pain in my body was amplified. I had so much Oxy running through me, yet I was more aware of every sense in my body than ever. I knew I was losing it. I was losing my fight, and I needed to get out of my head.
I edged into a bar a block from my house. I hadn’t been in a bar since my arrest. It had initially been a stipulation of my release. I was prohibited from drinking. That had since expired. I sat down on the bar stool. Unaware of my appearance the bartender set down a glass of whiskey on the bar in front of me.
“You look like you could use this.” He said.
I looked down at the glass. The amber colored liquid just floating there. I felt the urge run through me.
“Just one drink, what could it hurt?” I thought. I continued staring. My heart beating. Every ounce of me wanting to feel that sweet nectar penetrate my lips, swish around in my mouth. The strong taste igniting my tastebuds to life.
“It’s not going to hurt you, hell, it’s on the house. If money is your worry.” The bartender said.
I looked up at him, I knew he was trying to be nice, but my anger was raging. He had just patronized me. He had offended me, was mocking me. He was insinuating that I couldn’t take care of myself. I had heard enough. I grasped the glass in my hand, lifting it towards my face.
“There ya go, see, the cure to all that ails.” The bartender urged.
That was enough. I snapped. I grabbed him by the collar, and smashed the glass against his head, and then pulled him down repeatedly, smashing his head against the bar. Several patrons ran over, pulling me away from the bartender. I started fighting them off. I threw one over the bar, slamming another into a pile of chairs in the corner. I couldn’t see anything except Al Envy’s face on each of these men. The man that disrespected me. Disrespected my friend, my family, a man that used me to try to get a leg up in the Battlemania tournament. I grabbed the last guy who was swinging hard. Not hard enough. I didn’t feel his blows. I pulled him in, and wrapped him up tight, and then slammed him hard with a belly to belly suplex through a bar stool.
I looked around the room at the carnage I had just created. It wasn’t good. I had screwed up. I knew it, instantly my instincts took over. I ran. I left the bar, running full speed down the sidewalk. I arrived at my building, opened the door, and ran up the steps to my apartment. I flung open the door, ran in, and slammed it behind me. Leaning on the door as if I were trying to keep someone from getting in. My heart raced. I could feel the heart pound.
I crossed the room, looking at the clock. Still shaking. My body tense. 3:00 PM. SHIT! I had to get on the plane to Montana in 2 hours. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the airport on time. I ran outside with nothing but my clothes I had wore to the gym, and my gym bag still on my back. I hailed a cab and paid him four hundred dollars to get to the airport as fast as possible.
I pulled up the airline’s website on my phone, and checked in electronically. The joys of technology. I glanced at the clock, as the cabbie weaved in and out of traffic. He was making excellent time. I was just 5 miles from the airport and I still had 45 minutes. Then it stopped. Traffic, backed up. A semi truck tipped over. I looked at the cabbie, he shrugged at me.
“Sorry, to get through this it’s going to be at least an hour,” he said in a thick Russian accent.
I threw open the door, and climbed out, the cabbie yelling after me, I took off running. I ran as fast as I could. My only thought was making that plane. I had to get to Montana. I had to escape this city. I ran, the entire five miles, body still burning from my workout. I blocked out the pain. Cars were honking at me as I ran past them. I ignored the sound, exited the freeway towards the airport, and ran right up to the main doors.
I had 30 minutes to get through security. I looked at the line. It wasn’t that bad. I ran up, quickly threw my shoes, and backpack on the line, and walked through the metal detector. No ring. Perfect. I went to grab my bag and shoes, and was stopped.
“Excuse me sir, we’re going to have to search you.”
“Why? I am going to be late for my flight.”
“Sir, standard procedure. I just need to run my wand over you quick, give you a quick pat down, and you can be on your way.”
I rolled my eyes at the inconvenience, but complied. I couldn’t have any more outbursts, especially not in an airport. I took a long deep breath, and let him go through his process.
Finally he finished, and without putting my shoes on, I ran to my gate. I got there just in time. They were about to close the doors, I gave them my boarding pass, and ran down the ramp to my plane, and plopped in my chair, exhausted and in pain. I reached in my bag, grabbed my Oxy and my phone. I popped two more and chased them with a ginger ale that was given to me by the Flight Attendant. I scrolled through my contacts list, stopping at Dazi’s name. I clicked on it, opening my text messaging app. I quickly mashed the keyboard, and hit send.
“I love you,” Is what the message read. I shut down the phone, put it back in my bag, and laid back, finally able to rest.