New York City, New York

A loss by disqualification may bother some people in this sport, and I haven’t been a fan of them in the past, but last night didn’t bother me a bit. I faced the seemingly unstoppable, the supposed indestructible Red Rayne, but in the end, I proved a point. She can be hurt. She is not someone I fear. Yes, Rayne can be deadly. Yes, she can hurt anyone and everyone she steps into the ring with, but I walked in knowing full and well what I needed to do. It was like being the new guy in prison. They always say that you need to go up to the biggest and toughest motherfucker in the place. You need to look him square in the eye before beating the absolute shit out of him. You do that to let everyone know that you aren’t to be messed with because you simply do not care. I went out there to let Rayne know, that despite all of her talk about doing whatever she has to do in order to get to the World title, she is still beneath me. That I will fight her and beat her to death if need be. Katya can become a causality as well. I don’t really have any concern of the well-being of anyone in her bloodline.

Last night I continued my war against Ace Marshall, the man I will face for the SCW Championship at Rise to Greatness. He was in the ring against David Miller and Angelica Jones, two people I have a history. Two people I do not care for. Two people, who like Katya, are nothing more than causalities of war. I went out there and took out Jones as well as Miller. Jones, I have already beaten once back in the Shot of Adrenaline tournament. Miller, he and I have been back and forth on social fucking media. I have dropped him before leading up to Taking Hold of the Flame because had I not won that event, I was going to make an example of him. I still plan on doing so but only when the time comes. Last night wasn’t that time, but I did allow Ace Marshall to get his win over both Miller and Jones so he could retain his precious Television Championship. I could have taken it all away from him last night but I didn’t. I want Ace to look strong leading up to our match at Rise to Greatness so when I destroy him and take the title…the world will see him as he has truly always been in my eyes.

…Weak…

And I am just getting started when it comes to Ace. He will crack his insults. He’s good at that. I am going to hurt him. I am good at that. But I am not going to just hurt him physically. Oh no, I am going to break Ace Marshall before this is all said and done. I have been thinking about it the entire time I’ve been on the flight home. I haven’t slept a wink as my mind has been racing and racing. But not only about what I want to do to Ace. I’ve been thinking about Heath King, Kismet’s sister. I have also been thinking about Kismet as well as Abel, two voices inside of my head. I know that they are both voices in my mind as Kismet has been there for a long time, but that has been out of tragedy and the mark she has left on my life ever since I let her fall. Abel was born to help protect me, to nurture me, as well as the darkness inside of me. They both want me to succeed. Kismet seems to want to see me succeed in wrestling while Abel seems to want to see me become a monster. To not care about anyone or anything. I am a coin and there are two sides to me. The part of me that does care in some ways, especially about my children while both voices seem to think Keira and Kelly do not care for me.

And they may be right but that doesn’t mean I should hate them.

Even though the other part of me wants to.

So I am stuck asking myself whether or not I should become the monster in order to succeed, keeping both Abel and Kismet around. Or if I should just follow Kismet’s advice, accepting only her and succeeding with her by my side. Or if I should listen to only Abel who has helped guide me before, especially after Kismet broke my heart as a child and I watched the watery abyss behind my house consume her. I know that if I do that then there will be no turning back. There will be no saving me once I cross that line.

I know that I am not afraid of most things but that crossing that line scares me.

I do not know which direction to take. I know I could even do what Vaughn has said. Take my medication. It may help with the voices and maybe even turn them off. I could do that, but then I’d be alone and I hate being alone.

My mind has been back and forth with this for the last few weeks. It hasn’t been able to focus because I feel I am being torn in multiple directions. I would have been just fine with Kismet. I’m not sure why Abel returned. He says he used Kismet to open my mind up. I don’t know if that’s true or not. I would love to get a fucking grip on my mind. I just don’t know if I am too far gone. And with Heath running around making threats, it’s hard to focus on anything. Maybe I should allow Vaughn to send the men in white coats so they can lock me up and throw away the fucking key. That would be easier. Being a vegetable, not having to know a goddamn thing anymore seems like such a simple idea. Thinking about it now brings a smile to my face.

Just like things Kismet says.

Same with Abel.

All of this is the crux of my dilemma that seems to be constantly growing. I may be able to handle the pressure for the time being but sooner or later, something is going to have to give. I am going to have to find a balance between the voices, or get rid of one or both.

I know I am losing my mind.

I just don’t want to have to bury it.

The plane lands and I make my exit. I go through the tunnel, make my way through the crowd. These little peons rush me, some asking for an autograph, some telling me that I am a piece of shit for attacking Ace Marshall. They tell me that he is going to kick my ass and send me packing. I smirk to myself and keep walking. I am not one to engage in stupid banter with these so called “smart” fans who think they know how things will play out. They just think that they are smart, just as Ace Marshall thinks he is smarter than me. He is witty. I will give the man that. He has some great one liners and comebacks. Good for him. I don’t give a good goddamn. I am not here to play those types of games. He seems to be obsessed with that. He thinks that establishes manhood and dominance. Ace has never had to endure pain or agony, at least not until now. Now he has me breathing down his neck. The neck I’d love nothing more than to break.

Kismet and Abel are in definite agreement with me on that one.

I step outside and catch a cab to my apartment. I stare out of the window, looking at the city as it passes by, and then I hear, “Are you pleased with how things turned out?”

I turn to find Abel sitting in the backseat beside me, eyes forward, looking somewhat disappointed, “Are you talking about with my match? Yes, I am. Sure I would have loved to have pinned her or made her tap out, but I proved a point last night. And I made sure Ace felt my wrath once more.”

Abel scoffs, “Something felt off with it if you ask me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Our bloodlust didn’t seem satisfied. The thirst we have for bloodshed and agony wasn’t quite quenched. But who am I? It’s your thing, not mine.”

I’ve figured out that Abel is the bloodthirsty part of my psyche. He is my voice of destruction and hatred. He wants to cripple and possibly kill all kinds of people. That is the kind of monster he wants me to become. Sometimes that side comes out of me and he takes over. It was a side that Kennedy Street witnessed over social media when I threatened her life more or less.

I say, “I can’t go out and kill someone on live television even if I know you and I would take great pleasure in it, Abel,” I sigh, “But believe me when I say the urge to do so was there. It was very hard for me to stop. Anytime I fought it, I ended up getting hit or choked.”

The last time I remember giving into Abel’s lust for death and chaos, it resulted in the death of my father. I had blocked out that part of my memory, leaving it with Abel in the darkest corners of my mind. A lot of my life, my past, I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. I don’t know what happened and what was fiction. With Abel’s lust for blood like it is, I am not sure I even want to ask him to enlighten me on who I am, or what I am.

Abel chuckles, “I don’t know about you but I kind of liked that part, James. Made me want to hurt her even more.”

I shake my head, “That’s not all you wanted to do, Abel.”

“Not exactly but we both know that she is highly attractive. It’d be great to fuck her then hack her goddamn head off. You can’t sit there and deny that. Otherwise, you’re only lying to yourself.”

I shrug my shoulders, “Yeah she is. Seductive and deadly. She is an enemy however.”

“Which would make it even better to end her life after we got what we wanted from her.”

I just turn away and shake my head at Abel, the cause of all of my animalistic thoughts and desires. The cab comes to a stop as it reaches my apartment complex. I drop some money with the driver before getting out and heading upstairs. As Abel follows, I break the silence between us, “So what are we going to do about this Heath character? I’m not a fan of him coming into my life.”

Abel scoffs again, “He’s nothing to worry about. He wants to come after you with a vengeance, James. I like it and I know you love a challenge. Let him come. But we know how it will end more than likely.”

I shake my head, “What do you mean exactly, Abel?”

He fires back, “You know exactly what I mean, James. Do not pretend otherwise. He will probably have to meet his end just as your father did. Different reasons but the outcome will have to be the same.”

As soon as he mentions my father I stop in my tracks. I slowly turn to him and we lock eyes, “Why do you keep mentioning my father?”

“To let you know what you are capable of.”

I reach my apartment and step inside, trying to ignore Abel along the way.

“Do you know why you had him killed, James? I do. It was something you had been planning for years. Do you even remember the night you decided you were going to kill him? I do. I have never forgotten.”

Abel, the bloodthirsty part of my psyche. My voice of destruction and hatred. The motivation behind my wants to cripple and possibly kill all kinds of people.

“I’m not sure I want to remember, Abel.”

He replies, “Yes you do. You know what happened to Kismet, but you’ve blocked out why you are the way you are. Just as you blocked out you did to her when you were a child. So much went on that you tried to forget. But I have held it for you because I knew you would need it at some point.”

I place my hands over my face and bury my palms into the skin, going up and down violently, before looking over and glaring at Abel, “Why do you want me to become a monster. Why can’t I just be a wrestler? Why can’t I just be a father to my beautiful daughters?”

Abel rushes over and wraps his arms around me, “James, I know this hurts. I feel your pain. We are one in the same. I know it also hurts when you are not inflicting pain. I know the way your body shakes due to the anger festering up inside of you as you lie in bed at night. I know it hurts you to fight the urges.”

I push him away, turning my back. I tell myself that I don’t want to remember. I don’t need to remember, “I fight those urges because it’s the right thing to do. People don’t deserve to get hurt for no reason.”

“Oh James…stop. Just stop,” I hear Abel call from behind me, “You know that’s not true. All kinds of people deserve to experience all kinds of pain. After the things you have…the things you have experienced…you know exactly why people deserve to experience pain. People like your father…”

I turn and face Abel once more, feeling the anger rising within, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want to know. I saw what I did Kismet. I remembered that and I will never forget again. I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I don’t think I can handle anything else so back the fuck off, Abel.”

“Oh James, James, James…I really wish you’d stop fighting it so much. You’re only hurting yourself. You want to live and enjoy the sick joke that life can be? We both know you do so stop fucking running from the truth.”

I take a seat and try to calm myself, knowing that what Abel says is true. I do fight it because as I’ve discovered in this life…the past can be an ugly thing. But my past, my entire life has been nothing but multiple choice. I have run from whatever has made me this way for so long. I tell myself that the voices in my head have been trying to show me the way this entire time while I’ve been fighting it. I close my eyes and let out a sigh, knowing that fighting it has grown to be futile. I tell myself that the best course of action is to just accept it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

December 1994

Boone, North Carolina

“I’m excited, Dad…” I say, sort of afraid because I don’t know what to say. My Dad and I rarely go out together. It is usually Mom and I. But tonight, after I begged and begged, Dad said I could go with him to the store. I really wanted to go with to see if I can get him to buy me this toy for Christmas.

“Uh yeah…that’s great, kid” Dad says before blowing cigarette smoke through his nose, making the whole car smell like it. I stick out my tongue because I don’t like the smell at all. Dad sees me and speaks again, “Hey you asked to come with me. Don’t act like that now.”

I lower my head and stare down at my legs for a few moments, “I just don’t like smelling like smoke. People make fun of me for it. And I can’t help it. You and Mom smoke all the time in the house…” My Dad’s hand comes down hard on my leg as I say, “OOOWWW!!!”

The car comes to a stop at a stop light. My dad places his fingers on my chin. His fingers smell like smoke too and they are slick and greasy. He makes me look him in the eye as he says, holding a cigarette in between his lips, blowing smoke in my face each time he speaks, “Don’t you sit there and blame your problems on your mother and me. We’ve had to take care of your little ass for years. We’ve never hurt you, have we?”

I stare at him, scared. Afraid to tell the truth, knowing he has hurt me and made me accept his apologies. My Mom has hurt me too, putting cigarettes out on my back for keeping her awake. I can’t sleep at night. I am always so afraid of what my Dad might do. He leans in closer, pressing his forehead hard against mine, “Have we?”

I want to say yes, but I don’t. I don’t say anything. I just shake my head. My dad still holds my chin in his greasy fingers and he squeezes it a little tighter before saying, “That’s what I thought…” He then presses his hand against my head before shoving it back. I turn away, feeling scared and sad. I feel scared because I made my Dad angry. I feel sad because I feel I let him down. We continue to drive when something catches my eye. I look up and see the big Wal-Mart sign as it lights up the night. My fear and sadness starts to fade as we reach the red light just across from the store. But then my Dad never pulls into Wal-Mart. He keeps driving and I watch as the Wal-Mart sign disappears into the darkness. I feel angry now and I say something, “Where are we going? I thought we were going to Wal-Mart, Dad!!!”

He laughs while lighting up another cigarette, “Nah, James. I got more important shit to do, which is why I didn’t want you to come with me. Besides,” He blows out smoke, “What made you think we were going to that shit hole anyways? Did you want me to buy you something? Shit boy, I barely have enough to buy my cigarettes and beer. That’s why I had to come out tonight. I gotta make some money.”

I try to fight back my tears, “But what about Christmas?”

He laughs again, “What about it, James? I like to drink and smoke. I don’t have to make sure you have toys and other shit that you don’t need. Besides I’m sure your grandparents will buy all kinds of crap. You’ll be happy then.”

I cry out, “But I wanted…” I don’t get to finish speaking as I feel the roughness of the bone my father’s hand as it lands hard against my face. I go to cry but I know that I shouldn’t. It will only make my Dad madder and he will laugh at me for doing so.

I look over at him, still fighting my tears and trying not to look like my face hurts. Dad glares at me and points his finger in my face, “I’ve had enough of you already. You’re going to learn in this life that you can’t always get what you want. Well some people can’t. Then there are people like me who can. We go out there and get it. I hope you’re like that when you get older, James but the way you’re acting now…I’d call it a fucking longshot,” He takes a drag off of his cigarette then blows the smoke in my face, “Now sit there and shut up. I don’t want to hear another word out of you until we get home.”

I do as I am told. We drive and we drive. I am not sure how much we spend driving, but then we turn down a dark road, surrounded by a lot of trees. I can’t really see anything except for what the headlights shine on. And then we reach this gigantic house. I stare at it in awe, wishing that I could have a house like this. It reminds me of my grandparents’ house or the house my cousins Robert and Helena live in with that kid Chad that I hate so much. Dad brings the car to a stop then looks at me, “Stay in the car. Don’t get out unless I tell you too. Understand?” I just nod and then watch as he gets out of the car and disappears into the house. I immediately lock the doors and crouch down a little further, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head and face. I sit like this until I fall asleep.

I don’t know how long I sleep for when I wake up after hearing the sound of loud footsteps approaching the car. I open my eyes to find my Dad walking really fast towards the car. He opens my car door and says, “Get out James. Get out right now…” I rub my eyes, still feeling tired, only for Dad to grab me by the arm and jerk me out of the car. I look up at him as he says, “Daddy needs you to do him a favor. Can you do that for me, James?”

Feeling afraid of what might happen if I say no, I nod my head yes. My father continues, “I want you to go into that house. Once inside, you’ll see my friend Alan. I want you to stay with him for a little bit and do everything that he asks. Do everything exactly as he says. Okay?” I nod my head yes, still afraid, “Okay good. I knew I could count on you. And if you do this…if you make your Dad proud then we will go to Wal-Mart and pick up that toy you wanted. Does that sound like a plan?”

I want to say no but I’ve already let my Dad down tonight. I’ve made him mad. I don’t want to do either of those things anymore, especially if I get a toy out of it. I smile up at my Dad and nod my head yes once more. My Dad looks away from me and over at the house for a few seconds before looking at me again, “And James, we have to keep this between you and me. Deal?”

I continue smiling, nodding my head as I say, “Deal.”

Dad then spins me towards the house and pats me on the back as he says, “Alright kid, go on in there…” I walk towards the house. I am not sure why but the closer I get, the heavier my steps feel. I reach the bottom of the steps. I look up towards the top where a door appears to be open with a light shining outside on the porch. I make my way upstairs until I reach the light. I then look back at my Dad who waves at me, motioning for me to go inside so I do.

I step inside and I hear, “You must be James…”

I look over and I see an older man. He looks to be my Dad’s age. Maybe a little older. He’s bigger than my dead and not as mean looking. I nod my head, “Yeah…I’m James. Who are you?”

He smiles, “I’m Alan. I’m a friend of your Dad’s. He said he was going to let you hang out with me for a little bit. Does that sound cool?”

I shrug, “I guess. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. What do you like to do?”

I shrug again, “I don’t know. I play with my action figures. I really like to play Batman. Do you like Batman?”

Alan nods his head, “Oh yes, definitely. Batman is my favorite.”

“Well why don’t we play Batman?”

Alan gets up from the chair he was sitting in and walks over towards me. He closes the door behind me. I hear it lock and I realize why my footsteps were getting so heavy. I feel a chill run down my spine. I want my Dad. I want my Mom. I want someone to take me away from here. Alan places his fingers on my chin just as my Dad did earlier. They smell just the same, “Oh James, you look scared. You’re not scared are you?” I shake my head no, trying to keep my body from shaking so much, “Your dad said that you’d help him out by doing what I told you. Don’t you want to help your daddy out, James?”

I want to run. I want to cry, but I do neither. I nod my head, “Yes…yes,” I look down for a few minutes, doing as I did in the car trying to keep myself from crying. I look up at Alan again, “You’re not going to hurt me are you?”

Alan drops down to one knee, running his smoke smelling hands through my hair and over my face, making me want to gag, “Oh no, James my sweet, precious boy. I wouldn’t hurt you,” But then his fingers grip the back of my neck as he makes me look him directly in the eye, “I wouldn’t hurt you unless you make me hurt you. The only way to do that is if you don’t do as I say. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?”

He grips the back of my neck tighter as I struggle to say, “No…”

Alan smiles again, rubbing my face once more, “Oh you’re sweating. You must be burning up, James,” He spins me around and I look down the hallway, seeing an open door, “Why don’t you go down there into that bedroom and get out of those clothes?” I feel his hand press against my butt as he gently pushes me towards the hall. I stop and look at him, “Go on, James. I’ll be in there in a little bit to check on you. You’ll be fine.”

I turn away and slowly walk down the hallway, my steps heavier than they were when I was walking towards the house. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to run away and never look back. But I can’t do anything. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want Dad to be mad at me.

I step inside of the room, and I whisper a prayer to God, asking Him to protect me, to be with me as the preacher at my grandparents’ church always says He is.

I step into the darkness of the room, hoping the preacher is right.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

June 16th, 2016

New York City, New York

I open my eyes, finding myself back in my New York apartment. I gasp for air, feeling sweat beating down my brow. I look around but I no longer see Abel. I see Kismet standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her arms crossed with a look of concern in her eyes. I turn away and try to catch my breath and then I see her arms wrap around me as Kismet says, “Its okay, James. I wish he wouldn’t have shown you that. I’m so, so sorry.”

I place my hands on hers, my Kismet, my saving grace, my guardian angel, “He said I needed to be shown. I needed to remember.”

I turn my head slightly to where Kismet and I lock eyes as she asks, “What do you think, James? It seemed to have upset you more than anything.”

I break away from Kismet’s grasp before turning to face her, “I don’t know what to think. I can see why I have pushed it to the back of my mind for so long. Oh my God…how could…how could my father do that to me?” I feel like I want to break down, but I don’t. I just clench my fists, as I picture my father hitting me and sending me into that house, “THAT SON OF A BITCH!!!”

Once again, Kismet comes towards me, arms wide open, ready to comfort me, but I shove her away before slamming my fists into the walls surrounding me, hitting them so hard, as if I am trying to escape them, letting out roars of agony, feeling all of the anger burning like acid in the pit of my stomach before pressing my back against the wall and slowly sliding down, my breathing hard and heavy for a few moments. My heart rate is jacked and all I want to do is tear into someone, to stab a blade into their flesh and let the blade do it’s magic. I want to take the heel of my boot and bring down with such force into the skull of a man or woman just so I can feel the sound of bones breaking.

I picture myself doing it to Shaun Cruze.

Rachel Foxx.

Red Rayne.

Ace Marshall.

I see their faces, all caved in, as I stare down into their eyes as the life withers away and I feel myself becoming calm and centered. My breathing slows as my heart rate returns to normal. I turn and look up at Kismet, seeing the concern remains, “I needed to see it. I needed to remember it. Abel was right. I wanted to know why I had my father…the bastard…killed. I know my reasoning.”

Kismet takes a few steps closer, “Do you think he deserved it?”

I nod as I feel a smile appear on my face, “He deserved it. He deserved so much fucking more. It was my pleasure to watch him walk outside of that bar and fall to the ground. It was enjoyable watching as his body shook violently until he pissed and shit himself as he took his last breath.”

“What he did to you was wrong, James. I won’t deny that. But…” Kismet says as she takes a seat beside me, leaning her head against my shoulder.

“But nothing,” I say, shrugging her head off of my shoulder, “He is the reason I’m fucked up like I am. Letting shit like that happen. My grandparents, even my uncle could have and would have given my father money, but instead he basically forced me to go into that house and…” I can’t even finish my statement without growing angry.

She says, “James, I’m sorry for what happened to you. I wish there was a way to make it better.”

I smirk and shake my head, “No, don’t be sorry. I’m glad it happened. I wish I would have remembered it sooner. Hell, I wish I had known and embraced it all along.”

Kismet asks, “Do you think it would have made a difference in your life if you had known all along as you put it?”

I turn and look at her once more, “I actually do. I would have realized a lot of things sooner rather than later. I don’t think I would have gone years without knowing who I was, constantly questioning every fucking move I’ve made. That is no way to live.”

Kismet shrugs, “Well you can use it to succeed in wrestling. To hurt Ace Marshall…”

I shake my head, stopping her from completing her statement, “Oh I’m going to use it in the ring. I am going to hurt Ace Marshall. But I am going to use this in my every day life. In fact, I am going to live it. I will do as you told me to do when you came back into my life…to let the darkness consume me, to embrace it. To not be afraid.”

Kismet looks down, bringing her knees to her chest, “I only said that because Abel made me say it. He told you that he used me to get to you.”

I shrug my shoulders, nodding my head knowing that she is right about that, “Either way, whoever said it, mission fucking accomplished. You do want me to succeed right?” I ask, leaning in closer.

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, “You know that I do, James. I just…” Her voice trails off as she looks away from me.

I grab her face, reminiscent of the way my father grabbed mine, “You just what, Kismet? Fucking say it!!!”

Kismet tries to jerk away but I maintain my grasp. She responds, but doesn’t look me in the eye, which gives me a feeling that I enjoy, “I don’t trust Abel…”

I laugh, leaning closer to her face, pressing my nose against her. My laughter dies down as we lock eyes, “You don’t trust him? Why not? Because he shows me things…he shows me the truth? You showed me the truth, Kismet so I ask you…what’s the difference?”

She pushes away from me this time and climbs to her feet. She then glares at me, “Everything that I said…Abel wanted me to. The only thing I did on my own was help you remember what you did to me. Abel wanted me to show you so you could see that there has always been darkness within you. I showed you so you could find peace and forgive yourself. I told you that.”

Before I can say anything I hear, “But you did find peace, didn’t you, James?” I turn to find Abel now standing in the living room of my apartment. We lock eyes and we walks towards me, “You found peace knowing that deep down you are a killer.”

“That’s what YOU…” I say, pointing my finger in Abel’s face, “Want me to be. That’s what you’ve wanted me to be all along, Abel.”

Kismet pipes in, “Yes it is, James.”

Abel rolls his eyes, “Oh I’m sorry…I’m sorry that I’ve wanted you to live James. I’m sorry I’m not some fucking saint like her,” He says, shooting a look of disgust at Kismet, before looking at me once more, “And you’re no saint either, James. Your hands are dirty.”

I grind my teeth, “You made them dirty. You PUT THAT IN MY HEAD!!!”

Abel chuckles a bit, “You came up with the idea of killing your father. You came up with the idea of hurting all of those poor animals when you were a child. When your father got money for you being molested, you wanted to kill him. When those dogs would whine all night, keeping you awake, you wanted to kill them. All I did was give you the courage to do so.”

I go to speak but I can’t find words. Deep down, I know he’s right. Abel continues, “And you’ve been masterful at it. It brings you peace. You now know that the world has been cruel to you and you’ve decided to fight back against the world and everyone in it.”

I calm myself once again, “I’m not crazy…Am I?” I ask, locking eyes with Abel.

He smirks, “No, James. You’re not.”

“And…And I’m only hurting those who have hurt me. Those who have taken from me.”

Abel nods, “As they say, karma is a bitch and that is a lesson those in your world need to fully understand. Your father learned it and it cost him his miserable life.”

I nod my head, “But I was justified in what I did.”

Abel wraps his arms around me, “Yes, yes you were.” I pull away and looks around, no longer seeing Kismet. Abel speaks, “She’s gone, James. She is scared of what you are. Of who you are. She wants control over you, James. We can’t let that happen. If it does, then you’ll lose sight of everything and you’ll go back into that hole of yours. I refuse to let that happen. You’re better than that.”

I step back, “You want control of me too, Abel.”

Abel shakes his head, “No I don’t. You and I are in this together.”

“Are we?”

He nods, “You know we are.”

“James…Don’t do this…” I hear the voice of my guardian angel return. She steps out from behind me, glaring at Abel, who glares back at her.

“Stop…Just stop…both of you…” I beg, feeling frustration building inside of me, “Just stop.”

Abel speaks, “But James…”

I close my eyes and shake my head, slowly placing my hands over my ears as I say, “Just shut up. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!!!!” I begin shaking my head violently, the frustration growing, “BOTH OF YOU JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE…ME…ALONE!!!” I keep my hands against my ears and my eyes closed, as I slow my breathing, telling myself it’s going to be okay, telling myself that I just need to be alone. A few moments pass and I open my eyes, finding neither Abel or Kismet standing near me. I bring my hands from my ears, wanting to feel peace but knowing that I can’t.

All I know is that there is a war going on inside of me. A war between the darkness and the light. A war where there can only be one winner and the winner should be…

…Me.

I tell myself that I need to get control. That I need to HAVE control. I shake my head, wishing for a balance. Kismet, my guardian angel, wants me to have peace, but not the kind of peace I get from hurting others. She wants the exact opposite of what Abel wants for me. I don’t know what I want. I enjoy hurting others. It brings me great pleasure. I’m not sure I can even handle or thrive if I am not hurting others and bringing them nothing but misery. I can’t go around, pretending that I respect someone like Ace Marshall. I can’t. I fucking hate him with every fiber of my being. Abel and Kismet both know this, but Kismet seems to want me to fight fair. Ace Marshall doesn’t fucking deserve that which is something Abel knows. He feeds on it.

In just thinking that, I feel the urge to side with Abel.

I know I am going to have to make a decision. And no matter what decision I choose, whether it happens sooner or later, someone is going to be hurt.

But who?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

P I C T U R E

S T A R T

Here we go again, Rachel…

We dance one more time…

Around and around we go…

We’ve been here before Rachel. You and I have done battle throughout the ages and they have been some glorious encounters. Blood has been shed. Anger has been spewed like venom from our tongues towards one another.

I would not and could not ask for more.

But things have changed since then. We have both evolved so to speak. Our roles have reversed, Rachel to where I am bloodthirsty and ready to inflict upon anyone and everyone. You claim that you will do the same, but something just feels different Rachel. You seem to have gone…dare I say it…

…Soft…

I mean, I thought when I saw you come out to attack Red Rayne that I would see the bloodthirsty, sledgehammer packing Rachel Foxx of the past. The one that would wrap barbed wire around someone’s face and neck before grinding it against their flesh. But no, that isn’t what I got. I just got plain ol’ Rachel Foxx. That is a big reason why I tossed you around like a rag doll. You made me sick Rachel. Absolutely sick to my stomach. I expected so much more from you.

I remember fighting you at Rise to Greatness a few years ago. We did all that we could to destroy one another beforehand and the same happened at the actual event. I remember fighting you in Japan where you did all you could to try and maul me. I remember fighting you in the Underground, having that sledgehammer crash into my ribs and into the side of my head. I remember all of that and I loved every single minute of it. I enjoyed the pain you inflicted upon me. It made me want to hurt you even more. Whenever I did hurt you, it never seemed to be enough.

We had some good times, Rachel but now…I don’t sense the fun. Nothing feels right anymore. You’ve become…humanized and this saddens me a great deal. You’re a wife and a mother. You’ve allowed that to hinder you, keeping you from being whom you…really are.

Now you do anything to hurt someone and to beat them.

I am the one who will do everything.

My how the tables have turned.

You go from kidnapping my children with Rachel Lee to wanting to honor the old gimp and fight for his family as you step into the ring with the so called Red Devil. You go from trying to maim anyone and everyone, living up to that moniker of the Suicide Queen to cracking sex jokes with Ace Marshall. What the fuck has happened to you?

You were once ruthless.

You were once fearless.

Aggressive.

Now, as I said…you’ve gone soft. If I were to stand with the Rachel Foxx of the past, she and I would get along great due to the fact that we find humor in what you’ve become. We would point and laugh at you. You, Rachel, should be ashamed of yourself.

But I know that you won’t, because this has been quite the year for you. You managed to get a shot at the World Championship, the second one of your career, and just as you did against Shilo a few years ago, you took the fight to the Champion. The only difference is that this time, you walked away the newly crowned SCW World Champion. You capped off quite the legendary career by winning the one strap you’ve never really received any opportunity for. You and I are similar in that regard, Rachel. I’ve never been a fixture in the World title scene.

Never.

I had to outlast thirty nine other wrestlers in order to main event Rise to Greatness.

But you and I…we are different as well. I didn’t go through the things the way you have. Winning a few titles here and there, losing over fifty percent of my matches, but still being handed opportunities. Where you were once against the so called establishment, you now embrace them, stepping up to fight for it. I have been fighting the establishment ever since I arrived here and now I am enjoying the fruits of rubbing it in their faces. I will continue to do so when I step into the ring for the Rise to Greatness main event and defeat Ace Marshall for the SCW World Heavyweight Championship. But before I get there, I have to go through you.

Rachel, I am looking forward to this.

For all of our history, and even the fact that I have said you’ve gone soft…there is one thing that still stands. One thing that I cannot deal with. One thing that leaves a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach and it is the fact that I have never beaten you one on one. Anytime I have earned a win over you, it is has been in triple threat or multi-man matches. Never once has there been a truly decisive winner when I’ve met you between those ropes. We’ve always others involved when we should been allowed to brutalize one another from the get-go. At Breakdown, we aren’t going to need Justin Davis or David Helms. We won’t need Blood Grove or the Coalition. There will be no reason for Dylan Howell to be there. It can be just you and I.

Unlike Ace Marshall when he faced Miller and Jones, I won’t need help in picking up a nice win for myself. When we meet in Texas, I am going to hurt you, Rachel. I am going to force you to become the brutal bitch I know and love. If I have to threaten your child as you threatened mine in IWC then so be it. I want you to hurt me, Rachel. I need you to. I want you to give me even more of a reason to smash your face and to have your husband strongly concerned about your well-being. These words are not words of gimmick. You know full and well that when I say I am going to hurt you, that I will do it. I don’t see the point in saying something if you don’t mean it or stand behind it.

I stand behind my words. I will be looking to take you out of the game permanently, Rachel. I will be looking to have Texas to be known as the burial site of your career and possibly your life. If this isn’t sinking in Rachel, I will spell it out for you another way.

If you remain your newly softened self then meeting me in the ring at Breakdown could very well be the end of you. You will have a hard time taking care of your child. He will have to grow up watching as you wither away in a wheelchair. You sicken me that much. I hate you that much.

I wish I could praise you but I cannot find it within myself to do so. You winning the World title could have been something I should have celebrated but I couldn’t, because you won it by being something you’re not. When you called Ace and I the heart of this company, I wanted to thank you but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

The only thing that I can do is hurt you and inflict pain upon you. The only thing that I can bring myself to do is bend your limbs beyond their limits so I can hear your bones snap like twigs and hear you yell out in agony.

There is no other way for us to be, Rachel.

There is no reason for me to be anything other than this, other than who I truly am.

At Breakdown, you will show why you’ve been revered for so long and I know that you will give me a fight. It may not be the fight I want, but a fight nonetheless. In the end, I will eradicate you then I will go after the heart of the SCW…

Ace Marshall…

You’re the heart and I will drive a blade into you. You won’t see it coming, Ace. We will be in the heart of Texas and I am going to come face to face with yours.