Post by Tritch on Jun 7, 2013 20:21:16 GMT -5
There was nothing left to lose.
My mom was in a coma.
I was about to be placed on house arrest.
My girlfriend left me.
And then my brother stabbed me in the back.
So there was nothing left to lose.
But as I lay on my back, slowly drifting back to reality, I realize I was wrong.
I’m not as invincible as I thought I was.
The Heavyweight Championship was just a decoration, something I could wear around my waist and show off to my lucky lady.
Guess you don’t realize how important something is until you lose it.
Because that’s what I just did. I lost it. A man I used to call my friend just forced me into a black out, effectively tearing the ornament right off my shoulder.
After everything that had happened, I honestly didn’t think I could lose.
It wasn’t possible.
I was invincible.
I could blame it on Ally. She broke my heart and left me in a state of emotional turbulence days before my defense.
I could blame it on Tommy. He let me believe he was kidnapped, only to jump me from behind and prove I’m just as terrible of a father figure as I was a brother.
Shit, I could blame it on the alcohol. But I’d been sober again for a couple of days, so I guess that isn’t really feasible.
No.
The only person to blame is me.
All this time, I wanted to prove myself. Prove myself worthy, prove that I had what it takes to belong somewhere in this world. Prove that I was better than everybody else.
But I was wrong all along.
I’m not worthy. I don’t belong here. I’m not better than anybody.
I’m just a two-bit criminal with a drinking problem, trying to blend into society to avoid more hard time in jail.
Maybe that’s the only place I belong.
“Rex, you still alive in there?” A voice calls out and I open my eyes to the concerned expression adorning Howard Webb. I let my surroundings set in for a moment before I realize that I’m still in the ring. “Evans?”
“Yeah,” I shake my head, and the crowd pops just slightly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He extends his hand and helps me to my feet, I look at the ground in shame but then something surprises me. The entire Miami crowd just watched me pass out like a bitch, but their collective screaming suddenly turns to a uniform sound. I listen closely, trying to make out what they are saying, expecting something along the lines of ‘Diego made you his bitch,’ or something like that.
“Thank you Evans,” and they clap.
“Thank you Evans,” more clapping.
Thank you?
Thank you for what? For being their champion shorter than Brandon Garcia? For losing the belt so they don’t have to watch me any more? For ending the show so they can all go home?
As I lean on Howard Webb for support, my legs having not woken up yet, I raise a hand in hope that they will shut up. But their reaction shocks me even more. They cheer, so loudly it nearly hurts my ears, and their collective screaming bands together again, but this time in a different chant.
“CODE RED CON! CODE RED CON!” My knees grow weaker than they were, and a tear nearly comes to my eye.
They fucking love me.
Even though I lost the belt, even though I passed out right before their eyes from a fucking mandible claw, even with all the mystery in the news shrouding my binder earlier in the week… they still fucking love me.
I might belong in prison, and I might be a convict.
But I’m their fucking convict. I belong to them. Each and every fucking person in that arena chanting my moniker, I am theirs.
I’m not doing this to prove myself any more. I’m not doing this to show that I can run with the big dogs. I’ve done that.
I’m doing this for them.
The feeling comes back to my legs, and I push off of Webb toward the corner. Climbing the second rope I look out at the crowd, their chanting becoming near perfect unison and getting louder by the second, and then I throw my fist in the air and their chants turn to full blown cheers, the volume reaching new heights.
A grin forms in the corner of my mouth, and I look back to the middle of the ring where Webb is joined by Nathan and Eli, all three of them applauding my performance.
I may have lost, but wrestling is about more than wins and losses. It’s about making the fans happy. It’s about fighting until you can’t fight any more. It’s about instilling even the slightest hint of fear in your opponent, to make them think they might actually be able to lose.
I think I did all three of those things tonight.
I’m not going anywhere. You can take my championship, you can turn my family against me, and you can beat me until I can’t stand.
I will always get back up.
And I will come back for MY title.
Am I going to be okay?
Unlacing my boots, it feels as though I took a trek through a shallow river. They are completely soaked with sweat, and my socks are even worse, as is the smell.
Wish I knew why my emotions made me do three-sixties like this all the time.
My wrist tape comes off easier than the boots, and it’s as if my wrists are relieved to finally be able to breath as the fresh air touches my matted arm hair.
I mean, I know I’m manic-depressive, but why? Why did it have to happen to me? I didn’t ask for this shit. I don’t want to drag myself into these deep emotional pits of despair, hurting everyone around me on the way down. But can I really blame it on the bipolar?
I lean back against the lockers behind me, closing my eyes and directing my face toward the ceiling. My shorts are still on and I haven’t showered yet, but just sitting here is enough for me at this point.
“Feeling alright?” Gust’s voice startles me, and the only response I offer is a long exhale. “I hope the fans reassured you a little bit after that.”
“Yeah. I felt like shit, thought they would abandon me, but that showed me just how important I am to them,” I stand up, dropping my TapouT shorts and wrapping up in a towel.
“I hope that means you’re going to stop with all this shit,” it wasn’t a question, but I know it isn’t a rhetorical statement.
But before I can answer, my phone beeps and I glance down to see that I have a voicemail. Unlocking it I see that it’s from Ally and I turn to Nathan, my face probably taking on a ghostly shade. He looks at me confused.
“Um, let me get back to you on that,” he stands, as if to stop me and ask what’s wrong all with one silent motion. “Ally left me a voicemail.”
I step into the shower, shutting the curtain but not turning on the water. My hand starts to tremble. She hasn’t talked to me since that day, other than to tell me that she wasn’t ready to talk.
I don’t know if she found out about the other night. I don’t know if she saw the tweets. I don’t know what’s going through her mind. With hesitation, I press the button and exhale slowly as I lift the phone to my ear.
“Rex, I- I’m sorry, about the other day. When, when you said that, that you love me I- I just wasn’t ready for that kind of step. When I was with Logan… well you know the story. I just think that, right now I need a little bit of time. To think about things, to be myself and not have to worry about anything, to be away from wrestling for a little bit. I’m not saying it’s over; I’m just- just saying we should take a break. I know you’re out there right now beating the hell out of Diego, and I hope you beat him. I truly do. Good luck, Rex. Take care.”
I don’t know what I was expecting.
“Have to jet, Rex. Flight to catch, I’ll call you from Wisconsin,” he stops talking, but I can tell he is lingering just outside the shower. “Keep your chin up. Stay clean.”
He leaves the room, latching the door behind him, and I take a step out of the shower toward the sink. Setting my phone on the metal ledge beneath it, I lean over grasping either side of the ceramic sink, staring into my own eyes in the mirror.
I ruined it again.
This is Kate all over again.
I don’t deserve love.
Attachments, relationships, caring… those aren’t things that I can have.
What was I expecting?
I grit my teeth, fighting the sadness and letting the anger override it. I lift my fist swiftly, punching my reflection right in the nose. The mirror shatters to pieces, and blood trickles immediately from my knuckles. Dropping the towel and stepping into the shower, I turn the water on so it immediately begins steaming. Stepping beneath it and planting my hands firmly on the wall, I stare down at the ground and watch as the blood mixes with the water.
I deserve pain.
But it’s too much to handle. I can’t take it any more.
I have to numb it.
But I can’t be sloppy.
They can’t know.
“You are now safe to roam around the cabin,” echoes through the airwaves. I sit in my first class window seat, head leaning against the glass with my hood up and sunglasses on as I stare out. Chewing on a toothpick is the only thing that’s kept me sane since last night.
Sib just met me for coffee in Miami. She’s a good person. I used to wish we had gotten closer when we first met, wish that I got to her before Logan. But now I’m glad that he got to her, even though he left her without warning.
Ending up in a monogamous relationship with me would have wound up much worse for her.
I feel bad having used her. Everything she’s done for me, the fact that she’s willing to drop everything to help me… it’s upsetting to think about.
I didn’t need to talk. I didn’t need coffee.
I just needed someone to think I was doing better, that I wanted to do better. Someone to be my front, so that this doesn’t reach the news, or worse… Talon.
But the pain has become intolerable. The anguish is consuming me, and I can’t take it any more.
There is only one thing that can numb it.
But if anyone were to find out, I’d be finished. Police? Back in jail. News? Reputation ruined, and then back in jail. Talon? Out of a job, and a best friend. Gust? Out of a best friend, and probably an apartment. Sib? Well she’d probably just kill me. But worst of all, if Buck were to find out… he’d just be disappointed. Which is worse than anything.
“Sir, can I get you anything?” I freeze.
My next words will seal the fate.
I know the rules of the game. There won’t be any turning back.
That first one will be the end of it.
Am I willing to take the risk?
“Can I get a couple of those little vodka bottles,” she looks at me with a twinge of concern. I hide my face as best I can, but offer her a slight grin. “I don’t exactly get along with planes.”
Her concern turns to a smirk and she nods, patting my shoulder.
“Don’t worry hun, I’ll get you the strong stuff. You’ll sleep right through the whole flight,” she offers a reassuring chuckle before turning to walk away. I look down at my hands, trembling in anticipation.
“Perfect,” I mutter.
My mom was in a coma.
I was about to be placed on house arrest.
My girlfriend left me.
And then my brother stabbed me in the back.
So there was nothing left to lose.
But as I lay on my back, slowly drifting back to reality, I realize I was wrong.
I’m not as invincible as I thought I was.
The Heavyweight Championship was just a decoration, something I could wear around my waist and show off to my lucky lady.
Guess you don’t realize how important something is until you lose it.
Because that’s what I just did. I lost it. A man I used to call my friend just forced me into a black out, effectively tearing the ornament right off my shoulder.
After everything that had happened, I honestly didn’t think I could lose.
It wasn’t possible.
I was invincible.
I could blame it on Ally. She broke my heart and left me in a state of emotional turbulence days before my defense.
I could blame it on Tommy. He let me believe he was kidnapped, only to jump me from behind and prove I’m just as terrible of a father figure as I was a brother.
Shit, I could blame it on the alcohol. But I’d been sober again for a couple of days, so I guess that isn’t really feasible.
No.
The only person to blame is me.
All this time, I wanted to prove myself. Prove myself worthy, prove that I had what it takes to belong somewhere in this world. Prove that I was better than everybody else.
But I was wrong all along.
I’m not worthy. I don’t belong here. I’m not better than anybody.
I’m just a two-bit criminal with a drinking problem, trying to blend into society to avoid more hard time in jail.
Maybe that’s the only place I belong.
“Rex, you still alive in there?” A voice calls out and I open my eyes to the concerned expression adorning Howard Webb. I let my surroundings set in for a moment before I realize that I’m still in the ring. “Evans?”
“Yeah,” I shake my head, and the crowd pops just slightly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He extends his hand and helps me to my feet, I look at the ground in shame but then something surprises me. The entire Miami crowd just watched me pass out like a bitch, but their collective screaming suddenly turns to a uniform sound. I listen closely, trying to make out what they are saying, expecting something along the lines of ‘Diego made you his bitch,’ or something like that.
“Thank you Evans,” and they clap.
“Thank you Evans,” more clapping.
Thank you?
Thank you for what? For being their champion shorter than Brandon Garcia? For losing the belt so they don’t have to watch me any more? For ending the show so they can all go home?
As I lean on Howard Webb for support, my legs having not woken up yet, I raise a hand in hope that they will shut up. But their reaction shocks me even more. They cheer, so loudly it nearly hurts my ears, and their collective screaming bands together again, but this time in a different chant.
“CODE RED CON! CODE RED CON!” My knees grow weaker than they were, and a tear nearly comes to my eye.
They fucking love me.
Even though I lost the belt, even though I passed out right before their eyes from a fucking mandible claw, even with all the mystery in the news shrouding my binder earlier in the week… they still fucking love me.
I might belong in prison, and I might be a convict.
But I’m their fucking convict. I belong to them. Each and every fucking person in that arena chanting my moniker, I am theirs.
I’m not doing this to prove myself any more. I’m not doing this to show that I can run with the big dogs. I’ve done that.
I’m doing this for them.
The feeling comes back to my legs, and I push off of Webb toward the corner. Climbing the second rope I look out at the crowd, their chanting becoming near perfect unison and getting louder by the second, and then I throw my fist in the air and their chants turn to full blown cheers, the volume reaching new heights.
A grin forms in the corner of my mouth, and I look back to the middle of the ring where Webb is joined by Nathan and Eli, all three of them applauding my performance.
I may have lost, but wrestling is about more than wins and losses. It’s about making the fans happy. It’s about fighting until you can’t fight any more. It’s about instilling even the slightest hint of fear in your opponent, to make them think they might actually be able to lose.
I think I did all three of those things tonight.
I’m not going anywhere. You can take my championship, you can turn my family against me, and you can beat me until I can’t stand.
I will always get back up.
And I will come back for MY title.
Am I going to be okay?
Unlacing my boots, it feels as though I took a trek through a shallow river. They are completely soaked with sweat, and my socks are even worse, as is the smell.
Wish I knew why my emotions made me do three-sixties like this all the time.
My wrist tape comes off easier than the boots, and it’s as if my wrists are relieved to finally be able to breath as the fresh air touches my matted arm hair.
I mean, I know I’m manic-depressive, but why? Why did it have to happen to me? I didn’t ask for this shit. I don’t want to drag myself into these deep emotional pits of despair, hurting everyone around me on the way down. But can I really blame it on the bipolar?
I lean back against the lockers behind me, closing my eyes and directing my face toward the ceiling. My shorts are still on and I haven’t showered yet, but just sitting here is enough for me at this point.
“Feeling alright?” Gust’s voice startles me, and the only response I offer is a long exhale. “I hope the fans reassured you a little bit after that.”
“Yeah. I felt like shit, thought they would abandon me, but that showed me just how important I am to them,” I stand up, dropping my TapouT shorts and wrapping up in a towel.
“I hope that means you’re going to stop with all this shit,” it wasn’t a question, but I know it isn’t a rhetorical statement.
But before I can answer, my phone beeps and I glance down to see that I have a voicemail. Unlocking it I see that it’s from Ally and I turn to Nathan, my face probably taking on a ghostly shade. He looks at me confused.
“Um, let me get back to you on that,” he stands, as if to stop me and ask what’s wrong all with one silent motion. “Ally left me a voicemail.”
I step into the shower, shutting the curtain but not turning on the water. My hand starts to tremble. She hasn’t talked to me since that day, other than to tell me that she wasn’t ready to talk.
I don’t know if she found out about the other night. I don’t know if she saw the tweets. I don’t know what’s going through her mind. With hesitation, I press the button and exhale slowly as I lift the phone to my ear.
“Rex, I- I’m sorry, about the other day. When, when you said that, that you love me I- I just wasn’t ready for that kind of step. When I was with Logan… well you know the story. I just think that, right now I need a little bit of time. To think about things, to be myself and not have to worry about anything, to be away from wrestling for a little bit. I’m not saying it’s over; I’m just- just saying we should take a break. I know you’re out there right now beating the hell out of Diego, and I hope you beat him. I truly do. Good luck, Rex. Take care.”
I don’t know what I was expecting.
“Have to jet, Rex. Flight to catch, I’ll call you from Wisconsin,” he stops talking, but I can tell he is lingering just outside the shower. “Keep your chin up. Stay clean.”
He leaves the room, latching the door behind him, and I take a step out of the shower toward the sink. Setting my phone on the metal ledge beneath it, I lean over grasping either side of the ceramic sink, staring into my own eyes in the mirror.
I ruined it again.
This is Kate all over again.
I don’t deserve love.
Attachments, relationships, caring… those aren’t things that I can have.
What was I expecting?
I grit my teeth, fighting the sadness and letting the anger override it. I lift my fist swiftly, punching my reflection right in the nose. The mirror shatters to pieces, and blood trickles immediately from my knuckles. Dropping the towel and stepping into the shower, I turn the water on so it immediately begins steaming. Stepping beneath it and planting my hands firmly on the wall, I stare down at the ground and watch as the blood mixes with the water.
I deserve pain.
But it’s too much to handle. I can’t take it any more.
I have to numb it.
But I can’t be sloppy.
They can’t know.
“You are now safe to roam around the cabin,” echoes through the airwaves. I sit in my first class window seat, head leaning against the glass with my hood up and sunglasses on as I stare out. Chewing on a toothpick is the only thing that’s kept me sane since last night.
Sib just met me for coffee in Miami. She’s a good person. I used to wish we had gotten closer when we first met, wish that I got to her before Logan. But now I’m glad that he got to her, even though he left her without warning.
Ending up in a monogamous relationship with me would have wound up much worse for her.
I feel bad having used her. Everything she’s done for me, the fact that she’s willing to drop everything to help me… it’s upsetting to think about.
I didn’t need to talk. I didn’t need coffee.
I just needed someone to think I was doing better, that I wanted to do better. Someone to be my front, so that this doesn’t reach the news, or worse… Talon.
But the pain has become intolerable. The anguish is consuming me, and I can’t take it any more.
There is only one thing that can numb it.
But if anyone were to find out, I’d be finished. Police? Back in jail. News? Reputation ruined, and then back in jail. Talon? Out of a job, and a best friend. Gust? Out of a best friend, and probably an apartment. Sib? Well she’d probably just kill me. But worst of all, if Buck were to find out… he’d just be disappointed. Which is worse than anything.
“Sir, can I get you anything?” I freeze.
My next words will seal the fate.
I know the rules of the game. There won’t be any turning back.
That first one will be the end of it.
Am I willing to take the risk?
“Can I get a couple of those little vodka bottles,” she looks at me with a twinge of concern. I hide my face as best I can, but offer her a slight grin. “I don’t exactly get along with planes.”
Her concern turns to a smirk and she nods, patting my shoulder.
“Don’t worry hun, I’ll get you the strong stuff. You’ll sleep right through the whole flight,” she offers a reassuring chuckle before turning to walk away. I look down at my hands, trembling in anticipation.
“Perfect,” I mutter.