Post by khardaway on Nov 9, 2009 12:08:10 GMT -5
Welcome to hell. This is our civilization. This is our society. Never has this kind of place seen peace at all during it’s two thousand nine year run. It’s been nothing but chaos and disparity roaming through the halls like a high school couple getting busted for fucking in the men’s room.
This society is never in color, only black and white. Sometimes you’ll see the shallow colors and shadows of gray, but it’s mostly a wait and see attitude that comes by. Welcome to hell.
And I’m smack fuckin’ dab right in the middle of it.
My head thrown against the hood of a cop car, my hands cuffed behind my back. This isn’t a long awaited fantasy of mine, no...this is a dream gone too wrong. A nightmare that isn’t so much a nightmare, but something more. A word that can’t even be tried to pronounce. There isn’t a word for it.
Out of the corner of my eye, as my brand new friend, the rookie asshole policeman is giving me my rights, I see the devil...looking back at me from the corner of her eye. Surely enough, she’s talking to a cop as well, telling him the story that never happened, tears in her eyes, blood seeping through the small cuts and nicks on her face. But as one eye is paying attention as the cop checks her out, the other eye is focused on the unmovable object bent over on the hood. I can see it deep within her eye. Have you ever been in a relationship, and stared your boyfriend or girlfriend in the eyes and you saw your own reflection? Well I wasn’t staring at my own reflection, I was staring into the eyes of Satan’s fucking whore.
I can feel the fire burning deep within. Once, a beautiful, young woman, who made me go through Hell and back just to be with her again is now doing the same to me. Only this time, she’s running over to the cop car, and she’s taking me to Hell and she’s coming back up by herself. I can see it now. When it’s my time, she’ll sick the Hell hounds on me. Nobody can see them, but you can hear them barking and growling at the only meat they see. When they get sicked on you, they don’t just claw at you, they tear your flesh off with one single swipe, as you scream and you watch the blood squirt out of you like a bottle of ketchup. You can’t see them making you suffer, only you get to watch yourself suffer.
Then she’ll drag my soul to Hell itself. You know the movie Hellraiser? With Pinhead and his Cenobites after you? It’s like that, but without the spandex. You’re tied up, tortured on miles upon miles of chain. Screaming for help, but getting nothing in return. Getting tortured every day, only to have your wounds heal up at the end of the day, only for it to repeat in succession. Your only reap, is that to stop the torture, you have to start torturing other people on your own. And after what feels like 10 years, when it’s only been a month, I cave in. I can’t help it. I can’t take the pain. But who’s the one who releases me from the hell?
Who do you think?
Once again, the fires go deep within her eyes. A poor, defenseless girl. Turned into a demon from hell. She has to be possessed, right?
Before that question gets answered though, I can hear the phone ringing. That ringing releases me from the Krueger-like trance, waking up in a hotel room, the phone next to me...ringing louder now as the little red dot starts to youtube. Better answer it.
“Hello?”
“Yes, Mr. Hardaway. This is your 9 AM wake up call.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a good day.”
Click.
Bad idea in that. I hate wake-up calls. I hate whenever anybody wakes me up. Just let me sleep the hell in and I’ll wake up whenever the hell I feel like, how’s that? But now that I’m awake, it’s best to just get up and find out what the hell you’re going to do today. Because apparently, now you’re all by yourself. The first night in a long time that the bitch hasn’t slept by my side. For the past few weeks, all it really turned out to be was me sliding in bed and facing away from her, to our door. All for my daughter. I know she’s still young, but she just turned the big ONE a couple of months ago, she knows what’s going on, believe me. To me, I think she cries on purpose just to get me away from that bed. At least, that’s what is to be my side of the story, I’m sure there’s different sides to it.
But whatever, I end up grabbing my cell phone to see if anybody left a message or anything. Nothing. Damn, I don’t even remember what the hell happened last night. Now that I mention it, my head starts to thump. I guess waking up from a nightmare acted as a solvent for the first few hours. Now everything’s starting to hurt. The sun is blinding my eyes like fire, and everything right now is too damn loud. I throw my pillow over my head, trying to remove myself from the searing torture upon me. It’s not as bad as my dream, but it contends in the top 2.
Then my cell rings.
The sweet gentle sounds of....
Wait a minute. What the fuck is this? “All Summer Long” by Kid Rock? Man, fuck this song. Who is it?
“Jenny”
Who the hell is Jenny? I don’t know a Jenny. And why is this phone playing this god awful music? Wait a minute.
“This isn’t my phone. Who’s phone did I grab last night?”
I wait for the phone to stop playing that shit. As soon as it hangs up, I turn on the phone and look through the features of it, trying to get a name or something. The question is how I could’ve gotten the wrong phone? Does somebody have the same phone as me and I wasn’t looking, what? Luckily, it was the case. It was the same phone as mine. Damn Apple and their iPhones. Long story short, I end up getting a name.
But wait, not just any name.
Sarah Myers.
Yeah, just my luck. But how did I end up getting her phone by accident? Guess I have to see if luck was a damn lady tonight and check her contacts.
“Let’s see....A-Z. Search. K-E-V...”
Same phone as mine so I knew what to do. Just type the first letters in and see what comes up.
Kevin Hardaway.
“Well, that was easy.”
And press the “Call” button.
“Please enjoy the music while the person connects to the other line.”
Ah, “Holy Diver” by Killswitch Engage. Pretty sure she’s experiencing the same exact thing as I am right now. Sheer and utter pain. If she liked that Kid Rock song, odds are she’s going to hate hearing my ringtone. It’s not even “Holy Diver”. That’s only my ringback tone. Ah fuck it, you don’t need to hear the difference between...
“Hello...”
That was quick.
“Umm, yeah...is Kevin there?”
“What? Who is this?”
“This is Kevin.”
“What the....oh...oh shit.”
“Realized something, didn’t you?”
Yeah, now she realizes it. Women...
“I have your phone. Which means...you have my phone?”
“DING DING DING! Tell her what’s she won?”
“It’s too damn early to be a smartass.”
You know something...she’s right. It’s too damn early to be cracking jokes.
“How did you get my phone?”
“In a corny, believable coincidence...we have the same phone.”
“So, you have an iPhone as well?”
“Yeah. I knew it wasn’t mine because a friend of yours called. Believe me, that damn ringtone woke me up.”
“Oh...sorry. I didn’t even know. I was sleeping and I don’t even know what was playing. I just figured my cell was ringing.”
Ok...suddenly this urgent, instantaneous thought just ran through my thumping head like a jackhammer.
“Umm...question for you Sarah?”
“What is it?”
“If we ended up getting each other’s phones mixed up....then what in god’s name happened last night?”
There was a odd, hushed silence among the other end of the phone. Either she was thinking about the question, or she just had the biggest shock of lightning to the skull that money could buy. I was hoping for the former. Please tell me it was the former. Even though I have no idea about the latter either.
“God damn...I have no clue what happened last night. I mean, I remember our therapy session. That’s about it. Nothing else. And I swear on my life we didn’t have our phones out. Right?”
“Yeah, I know that’s right.”
Yeah I said it...”therapy”, not “counseling”. This is completely different. What? Is it wrong that a guy can’t have any emotional problems? She’s my shrink. She’s the person who helps me out whenever I’m in need of it. I have problems, deal with it. Now, back to the matter at hand here. What on earth happened.
“Ok. Let’s see. Let’s track our steps. Or at least mine, maybe that can get us somewhere. Ok...”
1.) I woke up.
2.) Got myself something to drink.
3.) Checked up on Kimberly.
4.)
That’s when Sarah chimed in with something of her own...
“Babe, I can’t remember all this.”
Hmm...that entered the back of my head but not at full capacity. I didn’t even care that she called me “babe”. Thought it was a reflex. All I was trying to do was remember what happened.
“I got an idea...”
Oh great, this can’t be good at all.
“Why don’t you get dressed, meet me at the entrance to my office. Maybe we can track our steps that way. Plus, remember...we need to switch back our phones.”
It was a good idea, but my head was still thumping. Maybe an excuse would do the job. Wouldn’t hurt.
“I would love to, but I have a huge headache.”
Then she did what any money hungry, desperate for love woman would do...bribe.
“Alright then...since it was probably my fault that I grabbed your phone first by accident, what do you say that after we trace our steps, I go out of my way to buy you some breakfast. My treat.”
That’s always a good bargain. Anything involving food is, at least. But something smells a little off. Can’t be that bad, right? Shit, I shouldn’t of said that. You’ve seen the movies, something WRONG always happens whenever they say the words “What could go wrong?” It’s common freakin’ sense, people. Oh well, I’ll risk something shitty happening for some free food.
“Damn, you drive a good bargain. Alright. I’m up for it.”
“I knew it. Get dressed and I’ll see you in about 20.”
“Good call.”
“Later.”
“Peace.”
Click.
I think I just signed my own name on the dotted line. Remember that dream I was talking about. I feel like it’s the damn lawyer to her. It’s just my imagination. Soon, we’ll be eating breakfast when all of a sudden, Sarah pulls off her face, it being a mask, and gives me a sheet of papers, telling me to sign. Sarah being the lawyer for Angie.
God, I have to stop watching Supernatural. That shit can rot your brain. Anyways, I need to get dressed.
--
Ok, no need to see that, so let’s just cut away to 5 minutes from now. I don’t need to look like a million bucks. I just need to look like myself. Ah, there we go. Blue jeans that look like they went through a meat grinder, and my stylish looking...ok, so I just found a random black t-shirt. GET OFF MY BACK! I can’t wear the cool clothes like everybody else.
And with that, I’m off to find Sarah.
Her office is not far away from the hotel actually, maybe a block, so all I need to do is walk there. Ended up staying at a hotel in town due to the she-bitch coming home and me having to go out on tour again with MWE. Couple house shows and then Mayhem in about a week. I like to come back home from time to time when we have a streak of non-house shows and only TV tapings, it’s rather nice. But for now, I would rather just stay out there instead of coming back home. There’s nothing here now, expect my parents, and my daughter...and maybe Sarah, but she’s only my therapist. We’re not that well known friends. I would like to be, I mean she’s nice and all, but what’s the difference? Oh god, I’m losing my mind now. Luckily, I see her as soon as her office is close to my proximity.
“Little late, are you?”
Light bulb comes on. Let me try this on for size, see what she says.
“It’s been less than 20 minutes, babe.”
“It’s been 25 minutes. And don’t call me “babe”, remember?”
“You called me that on the phone before you got here.”
“I did?”
Of course...act dumbfounded.
“Yeah, we were on the phone and I threw the list out of things I did yesterday, you said, and I quote exactly, because I remember...“Babe, I can’t remember all this.” Unquote.”
“Well...why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I didn’t care that you said it. I just threw it into the back of my head. These things don’t cause much concern, dammit."
And of course...act pissed that you didn’t get the moral victory in this one...babe.
“Anyways, we need to stop bickering and figure out what the hell happened. Here’s your phone back.”
“Thanks. Guess I should do the same.”
“You think?”
“Remember...it’s too early to be a smartass.”
“Oh, where are my manners?”
She says that in a sarcastic tone, of course. Maybe when we start re-tracing our steps, I should choke her out again. See what happens from there.
“Alright, the first thing you did the other day was...”
“Therapy session.”
“Right.”
1.) Walk upstairs to her office.
Everything was set in a dark light, as today was a rare occasion for her...a day off. So getting in there was easy say, easy do. At least for her, as the second I entered that room, that deadly whiff of memory stunk up my head like a dead carcass would have done. As she opens her office door, I start to experience everything that has happened within the past couple days. It’s like I was going through Shell shock during Vietnam or something. I tried hiding it, and it worked the first time out, as Sarah didn’t notice anything.
“Find anything yet, Sarah?”
“No. Anything coming back to you?”
“Not a thing.”
“Shit. Let’s go back outside then.”
Well that was nothing.
2.) The stairs to her office.
I remember going downstairs back outside, so that was our next mission. On the way up, we took the elevator, but now we’re trying out the stairs. Maybe that will get the ol’ memory bank flowing of previous events. Oh yeah...the bank is flowing now as I walk down the dusty old stairs. But not the memories of previous events in the day...previous events. I could hear the slaps and the fists hitting flesh, all the screaming and crying.
I couldn’t hold it back this time. And Sarah saw every bit of it as I could hear her faint Australian accent.
“Oh my god. Kevin. Are you ok?”
“I....I....I need....”
I couldn’t speak. That dream was all coming back to me. Every little bit of it. The torture, the chains, the fire....then she came into picture. Every fucking bit of her.
I blacked out.
--
Next thing I remember was slowly waking up, outside of Sarah’s office. And the faint signs of CPR.
Somehow, I could tell she tasted wonderful when I blacked out. Weird.
“Oh...thank god, you’re okay.”
“God, what happened?”
“You blacked out on the stairwell. It sounded like you weren’t breathing, so I gave you CPR.”
“Really now?”
“Yeah.”
I honestly believe I didn’t lose control of my breathing. I was probably going through a panic attack though. It happens on a weird occasion...like that one.
“Come on...I’ll walk you back to your hotel.”
Good call. Get me away from this dungeon immediately before I have another panic attack. Before I choke on my own blood. Before memories of that bitch rip through my mind again like some sort of weird demon creature. I’m honestly going mad here, aren’t I? Anyways, I let her help me up and off begins our...well, short walk back to my hotel. It’s nice though, having someone to talk to. I’m always pretty damn lonely whenever I don’t have someone to talk to. Emo sounding I know, but...what are you going to do? Luckily, our talk involves something else. Something rather than the god damn devil.
“So...you never tell me how your wrestling career is going. Why’s that?”
“Because it’s boring. Why should I tell you about me being on the road 24/7/365. There’s no good road stories. It’s nothing, really.”
“Maybe it is and you don’t know it. Come on, are you having fun?”
“Well...not anymore since...”
Yeah, don’t want that name to come up once again.
“I understand, Kevin.”
“I mean, I’ve met some good people, and I’ve met some douchebags. People have accepted my trust, and assholes have betrayed my trust. Like Zak.”
“Zak?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? What did he do to you?”
Do I really want to go through this with her? Seriously? Well...alright. Here goes nothing.
“Zak was a really good friend of mine. We go way back. The day I first joined the GWC, he was there and greeted me, and told me flat out, “Dude, I’ve seen your work. One day, you’re going to become World Champion, like it or not.” In an ironic twist, I was the one who beat him for that belt. The man was like a brother to me. He got me out of danger before anybody else could cause any trouble against me. I came into the MWE because of him, and when I found out that he broke the code, the straight edge code, a part of me was ripped from my heart. I find anybody who’s that way and breaks tradition as a traitor, and he did exactly that. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care one bit. He likes getting stoned and blitzed drunk, and it pisses me off. My father smoked every day and he drank every day. Nothing bad to worry about, but it scared me half to death when I used to see him drunk. Then my mom did it, then my brother. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to subject myself to a damn vice that supposedly eases the pain when all it does is further enrage it.”
The sight on Sarah’s face is pretty astounding. She’s into the story I’m telling, she has no clue about the ways I do things. She doesn’t know I don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t do all that jazz. This is news to her. Oddly enough, news that I should be telling her during my sessions. But it hasn’t come up. She wants to hear the rest of my times in wrestling right now, like she’s a 6 year old that can’t go to bed, she keeps telling Daddy, “Please...just one more story.” With the walk being so short, she decided to come into my hotel room. Right now, she isn’t Dr. Myers, my therapist. She’s Sarah...a friend in need. I sit down on my bed, my head against the pillow as she sits on the foot of the bed, her leg under her other leg. Guess it’s comfortable for her.
“Well, anyways...I went to visit Zak in rehab when he got suspended for doing those antics. I kind of wish that I didn’t have the strength to do it. It just left the worst taste in my mouth. That day...the less I talk about it, the better, you know.”
Sarah ends up making her way over to me, and puts a hand of her’s on my shoulder. Her touch takes me back a long ways. Not to bad times, but to good times. Then again, I just want to think about nothing at all and be done with it. Now she’s rubbing her hand against it...in comfort. I honestly didn’t want to go on with Zak. Not this time.
“It’s ok, Kevin. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to...let’s change the subject. You wrestling this week?”
“Yeah. That’s another story all on it’s own.”
“Oh yeah? Do you mind, or not? I understand.”
”Eh. It’s just Logan. It’s not the end of the world. All he’ll do is make a spoof out of this, try to be funny when all he is, is just one of those douchebag types you see in the gyms and the schools, when all he does secretly is cry in his sleep, poop his pants, drink his orange juice, and go back to sleep.
I don’t need to be funny. Want me to be funny? Well here goes....
Woozle wuzzle.
See, it works, right?
Nobody cares and neither do I. So there...piss off and die.”
This society is never in color, only black and white. Sometimes you’ll see the shallow colors and shadows of gray, but it’s mostly a wait and see attitude that comes by. Welcome to hell.
And I’m smack fuckin’ dab right in the middle of it.
My head thrown against the hood of a cop car, my hands cuffed behind my back. This isn’t a long awaited fantasy of mine, no...this is a dream gone too wrong. A nightmare that isn’t so much a nightmare, but something more. A word that can’t even be tried to pronounce. There isn’t a word for it.
Out of the corner of my eye, as my brand new friend, the rookie asshole policeman is giving me my rights, I see the devil...looking back at me from the corner of her eye. Surely enough, she’s talking to a cop as well, telling him the story that never happened, tears in her eyes, blood seeping through the small cuts and nicks on her face. But as one eye is paying attention as the cop checks her out, the other eye is focused on the unmovable object bent over on the hood. I can see it deep within her eye. Have you ever been in a relationship, and stared your boyfriend or girlfriend in the eyes and you saw your own reflection? Well I wasn’t staring at my own reflection, I was staring into the eyes of Satan’s fucking whore.
I can feel the fire burning deep within. Once, a beautiful, young woman, who made me go through Hell and back just to be with her again is now doing the same to me. Only this time, she’s running over to the cop car, and she’s taking me to Hell and she’s coming back up by herself. I can see it now. When it’s my time, she’ll sick the Hell hounds on me. Nobody can see them, but you can hear them barking and growling at the only meat they see. When they get sicked on you, they don’t just claw at you, they tear your flesh off with one single swipe, as you scream and you watch the blood squirt out of you like a bottle of ketchup. You can’t see them making you suffer, only you get to watch yourself suffer.
Then she’ll drag my soul to Hell itself. You know the movie Hellraiser? With Pinhead and his Cenobites after you? It’s like that, but without the spandex. You’re tied up, tortured on miles upon miles of chain. Screaming for help, but getting nothing in return. Getting tortured every day, only to have your wounds heal up at the end of the day, only for it to repeat in succession. Your only reap, is that to stop the torture, you have to start torturing other people on your own. And after what feels like 10 years, when it’s only been a month, I cave in. I can’t help it. I can’t take the pain. But who’s the one who releases me from the hell?
Who do you think?
Once again, the fires go deep within her eyes. A poor, defenseless girl. Turned into a demon from hell. She has to be possessed, right?
Before that question gets answered though, I can hear the phone ringing. That ringing releases me from the Krueger-like trance, waking up in a hotel room, the phone next to me...ringing louder now as the little red dot starts to youtube. Better answer it.
“Hello?”
“Yes, Mr. Hardaway. This is your 9 AM wake up call.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a good day.”
Click.
Bad idea in that. I hate wake-up calls. I hate whenever anybody wakes me up. Just let me sleep the hell in and I’ll wake up whenever the hell I feel like, how’s that? But now that I’m awake, it’s best to just get up and find out what the hell you’re going to do today. Because apparently, now you’re all by yourself. The first night in a long time that the bitch hasn’t slept by my side. For the past few weeks, all it really turned out to be was me sliding in bed and facing away from her, to our door. All for my daughter. I know she’s still young, but she just turned the big ONE a couple of months ago, she knows what’s going on, believe me. To me, I think she cries on purpose just to get me away from that bed. At least, that’s what is to be my side of the story, I’m sure there’s different sides to it.
But whatever, I end up grabbing my cell phone to see if anybody left a message or anything. Nothing. Damn, I don’t even remember what the hell happened last night. Now that I mention it, my head starts to thump. I guess waking up from a nightmare acted as a solvent for the first few hours. Now everything’s starting to hurt. The sun is blinding my eyes like fire, and everything right now is too damn loud. I throw my pillow over my head, trying to remove myself from the searing torture upon me. It’s not as bad as my dream, but it contends in the top 2.
Then my cell rings.
The sweet gentle sounds of....
Wait a minute. What the fuck is this? “All Summer Long” by Kid Rock? Man, fuck this song. Who is it?
“Jenny”
Who the hell is Jenny? I don’t know a Jenny. And why is this phone playing this god awful music? Wait a minute.
“This isn’t my phone. Who’s phone did I grab last night?”
I wait for the phone to stop playing that shit. As soon as it hangs up, I turn on the phone and look through the features of it, trying to get a name or something. The question is how I could’ve gotten the wrong phone? Does somebody have the same phone as me and I wasn’t looking, what? Luckily, it was the case. It was the same phone as mine. Damn Apple and their iPhones. Long story short, I end up getting a name.
But wait, not just any name.
Sarah Myers.
Yeah, just my luck. But how did I end up getting her phone by accident? Guess I have to see if luck was a damn lady tonight and check her contacts.
“Let’s see....A-Z. Search. K-E-V...”
Same phone as mine so I knew what to do. Just type the first letters in and see what comes up.
Kevin Hardaway.
“Well, that was easy.”
And press the “Call” button.
“Please enjoy the music while the person connects to the other line.”
Ah, “Holy Diver” by Killswitch Engage. Pretty sure she’s experiencing the same exact thing as I am right now. Sheer and utter pain. If she liked that Kid Rock song, odds are she’s going to hate hearing my ringtone. It’s not even “Holy Diver”. That’s only my ringback tone. Ah fuck it, you don’t need to hear the difference between...
“Hello...”
That was quick.
“Umm, yeah...is Kevin there?”
“What? Who is this?”
“This is Kevin.”
“What the....oh...oh shit.”
“Realized something, didn’t you?”
Yeah, now she realizes it. Women...
“I have your phone. Which means...you have my phone?”
“DING DING DING! Tell her what’s she won?”
“It’s too damn early to be a smartass.”
You know something...she’s right. It’s too damn early to be cracking jokes.
“How did you get my phone?”
“In a corny, believable coincidence...we have the same phone.”
“So, you have an iPhone as well?”
“Yeah. I knew it wasn’t mine because a friend of yours called. Believe me, that damn ringtone woke me up.”
“Oh...sorry. I didn’t even know. I was sleeping and I don’t even know what was playing. I just figured my cell was ringing.”
Ok...suddenly this urgent, instantaneous thought just ran through my thumping head like a jackhammer.
“Umm...question for you Sarah?”
“What is it?”
“If we ended up getting each other’s phones mixed up....then what in god’s name happened last night?”
There was a odd, hushed silence among the other end of the phone. Either she was thinking about the question, or she just had the biggest shock of lightning to the skull that money could buy. I was hoping for the former. Please tell me it was the former. Even though I have no idea about the latter either.
“God damn...I have no clue what happened last night. I mean, I remember our therapy session. That’s about it. Nothing else. And I swear on my life we didn’t have our phones out. Right?”
“Yeah, I know that’s right.”
Yeah I said it...”therapy”, not “counseling”. This is completely different. What? Is it wrong that a guy can’t have any emotional problems? She’s my shrink. She’s the person who helps me out whenever I’m in need of it. I have problems, deal with it. Now, back to the matter at hand here. What on earth happened.
“Ok. Let’s see. Let’s track our steps. Or at least mine, maybe that can get us somewhere. Ok...”
1.) I woke up.
2.) Got myself something to drink.
3.) Checked up on Kimberly.
4.)
That’s when Sarah chimed in with something of her own...
“Babe, I can’t remember all this.”
Hmm...that entered the back of my head but not at full capacity. I didn’t even care that she called me “babe”. Thought it was a reflex. All I was trying to do was remember what happened.
“I got an idea...”
Oh great, this can’t be good at all.
“Why don’t you get dressed, meet me at the entrance to my office. Maybe we can track our steps that way. Plus, remember...we need to switch back our phones.”
It was a good idea, but my head was still thumping. Maybe an excuse would do the job. Wouldn’t hurt.
“I would love to, but I have a huge headache.”
Then she did what any money hungry, desperate for love woman would do...bribe.
“Alright then...since it was probably my fault that I grabbed your phone first by accident, what do you say that after we trace our steps, I go out of my way to buy you some breakfast. My treat.”
That’s always a good bargain. Anything involving food is, at least. But something smells a little off. Can’t be that bad, right? Shit, I shouldn’t of said that. You’ve seen the movies, something WRONG always happens whenever they say the words “What could go wrong?” It’s common freakin’ sense, people. Oh well, I’ll risk something shitty happening for some free food.
“Damn, you drive a good bargain. Alright. I’m up for it.”
“I knew it. Get dressed and I’ll see you in about 20.”
“Good call.”
“Later.”
“Peace.”
Click.
I think I just signed my own name on the dotted line. Remember that dream I was talking about. I feel like it’s the damn lawyer to her. It’s just my imagination. Soon, we’ll be eating breakfast when all of a sudden, Sarah pulls off her face, it being a mask, and gives me a sheet of papers, telling me to sign. Sarah being the lawyer for Angie.
God, I have to stop watching Supernatural. That shit can rot your brain. Anyways, I need to get dressed.
--
Ok, no need to see that, so let’s just cut away to 5 minutes from now. I don’t need to look like a million bucks. I just need to look like myself. Ah, there we go. Blue jeans that look like they went through a meat grinder, and my stylish looking...ok, so I just found a random black t-shirt. GET OFF MY BACK! I can’t wear the cool clothes like everybody else.
And with that, I’m off to find Sarah.
Her office is not far away from the hotel actually, maybe a block, so all I need to do is walk there. Ended up staying at a hotel in town due to the she-bitch coming home and me having to go out on tour again with MWE. Couple house shows and then Mayhem in about a week. I like to come back home from time to time when we have a streak of non-house shows and only TV tapings, it’s rather nice. But for now, I would rather just stay out there instead of coming back home. There’s nothing here now, expect my parents, and my daughter...and maybe Sarah, but she’s only my therapist. We’re not that well known friends. I would like to be, I mean she’s nice and all, but what’s the difference? Oh god, I’m losing my mind now. Luckily, I see her as soon as her office is close to my proximity.
“Little late, are you?”
Light bulb comes on. Let me try this on for size, see what she says.
“It’s been less than 20 minutes, babe.”
“It’s been 25 minutes. And don’t call me “babe”, remember?”
“You called me that on the phone before you got here.”
“I did?”
Of course...act dumbfounded.
“Yeah, we were on the phone and I threw the list out of things I did yesterday, you said, and I quote exactly, because I remember...“Babe, I can’t remember all this.” Unquote.”
“Well...why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I didn’t care that you said it. I just threw it into the back of my head. These things don’t cause much concern, dammit."
And of course...act pissed that you didn’t get the moral victory in this one...babe.
“Anyways, we need to stop bickering and figure out what the hell happened. Here’s your phone back.”
“Thanks. Guess I should do the same.”
“You think?”
“Remember...it’s too early to be a smartass.”
“Oh, where are my manners?”
She says that in a sarcastic tone, of course. Maybe when we start re-tracing our steps, I should choke her out again. See what happens from there.
“Alright, the first thing you did the other day was...”
“Therapy session.”
“Right.”
1.) Walk upstairs to her office.
Everything was set in a dark light, as today was a rare occasion for her...a day off. So getting in there was easy say, easy do. At least for her, as the second I entered that room, that deadly whiff of memory stunk up my head like a dead carcass would have done. As she opens her office door, I start to experience everything that has happened within the past couple days. It’s like I was going through Shell shock during Vietnam or something. I tried hiding it, and it worked the first time out, as Sarah didn’t notice anything.
“Find anything yet, Sarah?”
“No. Anything coming back to you?”
“Not a thing.”
“Shit. Let’s go back outside then.”
Well that was nothing.
2.) The stairs to her office.
I remember going downstairs back outside, so that was our next mission. On the way up, we took the elevator, but now we’re trying out the stairs. Maybe that will get the ol’ memory bank flowing of previous events. Oh yeah...the bank is flowing now as I walk down the dusty old stairs. But not the memories of previous events in the day...previous events. I could hear the slaps and the fists hitting flesh, all the screaming and crying.
I couldn’t hold it back this time. And Sarah saw every bit of it as I could hear her faint Australian accent.
“Oh my god. Kevin. Are you ok?”
“I....I....I need....”
I couldn’t speak. That dream was all coming back to me. Every little bit of it. The torture, the chains, the fire....then she came into picture. Every fucking bit of her.
I blacked out.
--
Next thing I remember was slowly waking up, outside of Sarah’s office. And the faint signs of CPR.
Somehow, I could tell she tasted wonderful when I blacked out. Weird.
“Oh...thank god, you’re okay.”
“God, what happened?”
“You blacked out on the stairwell. It sounded like you weren’t breathing, so I gave you CPR.”
“Really now?”
“Yeah.”
I honestly believe I didn’t lose control of my breathing. I was probably going through a panic attack though. It happens on a weird occasion...like that one.
“Come on...I’ll walk you back to your hotel.”
Good call. Get me away from this dungeon immediately before I have another panic attack. Before I choke on my own blood. Before memories of that bitch rip through my mind again like some sort of weird demon creature. I’m honestly going mad here, aren’t I? Anyways, I let her help me up and off begins our...well, short walk back to my hotel. It’s nice though, having someone to talk to. I’m always pretty damn lonely whenever I don’t have someone to talk to. Emo sounding I know, but...what are you going to do? Luckily, our talk involves something else. Something rather than the god damn devil.
“So...you never tell me how your wrestling career is going. Why’s that?”
“Because it’s boring. Why should I tell you about me being on the road 24/7/365. There’s no good road stories. It’s nothing, really.”
“Maybe it is and you don’t know it. Come on, are you having fun?”
“Well...not anymore since...”
Yeah, don’t want that name to come up once again.
“I understand, Kevin.”
“I mean, I’ve met some good people, and I’ve met some douchebags. People have accepted my trust, and assholes have betrayed my trust. Like Zak.”
“Zak?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? What did he do to you?”
Do I really want to go through this with her? Seriously? Well...alright. Here goes nothing.
“Zak was a really good friend of mine. We go way back. The day I first joined the GWC, he was there and greeted me, and told me flat out, “Dude, I’ve seen your work. One day, you’re going to become World Champion, like it or not.” In an ironic twist, I was the one who beat him for that belt. The man was like a brother to me. He got me out of danger before anybody else could cause any trouble against me. I came into the MWE because of him, and when I found out that he broke the code, the straight edge code, a part of me was ripped from my heart. I find anybody who’s that way and breaks tradition as a traitor, and he did exactly that. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care one bit. He likes getting stoned and blitzed drunk, and it pisses me off. My father smoked every day and he drank every day. Nothing bad to worry about, but it scared me half to death when I used to see him drunk. Then my mom did it, then my brother. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to subject myself to a damn vice that supposedly eases the pain when all it does is further enrage it.”
The sight on Sarah’s face is pretty astounding. She’s into the story I’m telling, she has no clue about the ways I do things. She doesn’t know I don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t do all that jazz. This is news to her. Oddly enough, news that I should be telling her during my sessions. But it hasn’t come up. She wants to hear the rest of my times in wrestling right now, like she’s a 6 year old that can’t go to bed, she keeps telling Daddy, “Please...just one more story.” With the walk being so short, she decided to come into my hotel room. Right now, she isn’t Dr. Myers, my therapist. She’s Sarah...a friend in need. I sit down on my bed, my head against the pillow as she sits on the foot of the bed, her leg under her other leg. Guess it’s comfortable for her.
“Well, anyways...I went to visit Zak in rehab when he got suspended for doing those antics. I kind of wish that I didn’t have the strength to do it. It just left the worst taste in my mouth. That day...the less I talk about it, the better, you know.”
Sarah ends up making her way over to me, and puts a hand of her’s on my shoulder. Her touch takes me back a long ways. Not to bad times, but to good times. Then again, I just want to think about nothing at all and be done with it. Now she’s rubbing her hand against it...in comfort. I honestly didn’t want to go on with Zak. Not this time.
“It’s ok, Kevin. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to...let’s change the subject. You wrestling this week?”
“Yeah. That’s another story all on it’s own.”
“Oh yeah? Do you mind, or not? I understand.”
”Eh. It’s just Logan. It’s not the end of the world. All he’ll do is make a spoof out of this, try to be funny when all he is, is just one of those douchebag types you see in the gyms and the schools, when all he does secretly is cry in his sleep, poop his pants, drink his orange juice, and go back to sleep.
I don’t need to be funny. Want me to be funny? Well here goes....
Woozle wuzzle.
See, it works, right?
Nobody cares and neither do I. So there...piss off and die.”
