"It's not hard to find the truth. What is hard is not to run away from it once you have found it."
Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever. One simple choice in life could define the path you will take for years to come, one simple decision could see you looking in the mirror and no longer recognizing the person who's looking back at you. I made a decision, a decision which at the time was as simple as deciding what to wear in the morning and now here I am looking into a mirror at cold eyes that seem to stare back at me almost mockingly. They mock me because they know the decisions I have made, they know the repercussions those decisions have had on my life and how I have struggled to turn things around.
But a leopard cannot change its spots.
So I found myself running away, trying to escape the decisions I had made, trying in vain to grab back what little control I once had. But I continued to fail. I traveled halfway around the World to try and be something I'm not, to try and pretend to be somebody, anybody, instead I find myself further and further from the person I truly am. I left her behind. I tried to be somebody I wasn't. A decent human being with morals and beliefs but it wasn't me. Trying to be somebody you're not can get weary on the soul. It numbs you. Leaves you with nothing but the fake smile you have plastered across your face.
Everybody's friend, nobody's enemy.
It builds up on you, reminding you of who you are and who you've become. It ridicules you until you'd do anything to stop your mind from screaming. You try to drown out the sounds the best you know how. The voices that continue to remind you you're a failure, continue to remind you that everything happens for a reason and you turned your back on your reason. You fall further and further downwards until you fall the furthest you can. Then at rock bottom there are two choices, sink or swim.
I decided to swim.
“How long has she been like this?”
“Forty, maybe forty five minutes.”
“What has she taken?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ll have to be more co-operative, we need this information to save her life.”
“Listen, I barely know the bitch. All I know is that I walked in and she was sprawled out on the floor with all this shit coming out of her mouth.”
It was like she was in a trance. She could hear the voices as they discussed her life slipping away but she was paralyzed to do anything so she just lay on the gurney while they rushed her limp body through the hospital corridors.
“What’s her name?”
“Kendell.”
“Hey Kendell, can you here me? Open your eyes sweetheart. We need you to stay with us, you understand?”
Her lips felt as dry as sand as she parted them to let out a groan. It wasn’t so much a response as it was a plea for them to leave her alone. Everything felt so calm, so peaceful but the frantic voices in the background continued to interrupt her nirvana.
“Come on, stay with us!”
She wanted to sleep. She was tired and she’d been tired for a long time. She had no energy left to continue on. She had once prided herself on her constant push forward, defying the odds and becoming stronger regardless of what life threw at her but now, now she just wanted to fade. The light was beautiful, welcoming and warm. A sense of completion and the foreign feeling of happiness swept over her. For this moment in time everything seemed right. The emptiness, the hurt and the loneliness, it all faded away as she let the light envelope here until the worried voices in the background where just a memory.
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She sat with her legs thrown over the arm of the oversized leather chair, bottle of Jameson in hand and look of disdain plastered across an otherwise pretty face. It had been another bad day, in fact she couldn’t remember the last time there had been a good day they all seemed to blur into a drunken cocaine enhanced disaster that she had begun to call her life.
Moving to England had been a mistake. She thought getting away from the old would give her the opportunity to start over again, a fresh canvas, but instead she fell straight back into her old routine except here she was miles away from familiar surroundings and spent every night alone with a bottle of whiskey. Working behind the scenes ended up being her nightmare rather than her dream. She thought being part of the wrestling scene again would bring her some peace of mind but she was no businesswoman and she began to miss the adrenaline rush she got from being in a ring face to face with somebody who wanted nothing more than to see you in pain and you feeling the bloodlust right back in return. She had never been an angel when it came to the ‘no drugs’ policy but since she had retired what was once a recreational indulgence had become a full-blown habit. She wouldn’t admit it to herself though, deep down she knew her life was falling apart at the seams but she somehow convinced herself that consuming at least a half bottle of whiskey a day topped up with a few lines of cocaine just to help her function was a normal schedule for a twenty five year old woman. So after another bad day filled with regrets and self pity she went back to the hotel room she called home, turned on the television and opened a bottle of Jameson.
She pulled her long dark hair back into an elastic to keep it from her face as she pulled on an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans then took her place again on the chair and stared mindlessly at the television. The television could have been turned off for all she’d notice; she just stared ahead while occasionally lifting the bottle to her lips.
He watched her as she sat there. She was a shadow of the woman he used to know. She used to be strong, unbeatable; she used to be a star. He found the mess she had become quite amusing although her pathetic new way of life made him sick to his stomach. In his own self-admiring way he saw a lot of himself in who she used to be. She was ruthless, stepped on anyone to get to where she was going and would only look back to spit on those she left behind her. Now she was nothing but another washed up wrestler.
He moved through the darkness of her hotel room while she sat unaware of his presence. He had always found her somewhat intriguing. He had known her; known of her for a long time now and despite their common interests he had yet to manipulate her into the person he wanted her to be. He had a feeling that was about to change.
“Oh how the mighty have fallen.”
His voice caused her to jump, the bottle of whiskey slipping from her hand and hitting the expensive hotel carpet with a dull thud. His smile was that of satisfaction as he noticed the flash of fear that jumped through her dark eyes for just a moment.
Kendell Smith: “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in? You can’t just go around break….”
He cut her off before she could continue. Moving slowly across the room towards her whilst running the tips of his fingers along the leather chairs.
“You really need to brush up on your welcoming skills my dear. No wonder you have to drink alone.”
She looked away from him as if she’d been on the receiving end of a slap. She didn’t want him to see her like this. She didn’t want anybody to see her like this. To the outside World she wanted to appear ruthless and flawless regardless of whom she was behind closed doors. She sighed deeply, as if giving in and sat back in the large leather chair picking the bottle up from the floor in hopes of salvaging what little was left.
“Look at you, you fucking disgust me, you and people like you. You just give up so fucking easily because you feel the World dealt you a bad hand. It proves what I’ve said all along, you are inferior and you always will be.”
She looked down at the bottle while he spoke eventually lifting her eyes to meet his. He looked at her as if she where nothing, like she was disposable. It sent a shiver down her spine. They had never been friends, in fact they had rarely been civil to each other in the past but there was always something there that stopped it from turning into hate, a mutual respect for one another and what each of them achieved. That was gone. She could tell by the stone stare that scanned over her.
Kendell Smith: “If you’ve come here to ridicule me you can leave. I’ve had a bad day and I’m not in the mood.”
He laughed, a shrill almost high-pitched laugh. She looked away from him no longer able to stand the way he looked at her. It reminded her of her father’s glare. He’d look at her like he couldn’t believe she was his daughter, disappointed that he never had a son.
“You deserve the ridicule. Maybe it will help you come to your senses and realize that you don’t belong here.”
Kendell Smith: “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m doing fine here. The company is flourishing and the merchandise is starting to bring in a profit. We’re doing ok.”
“Oh so it’s about profit now?”
Kendell Smith: “That’s not what I said. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
She continued to look away from him whilst he moved within inches of her. She lifted the bottle to her lips and drank what little was left at the end. She knew he wasn’t here for a heart to heart, she knew he wasn’t here simply to ridicule her. There was always an ulterior motive for his visits and it usually involved him getting something from her that he wanted.
“You’re right, you don’t but I’m here to offer you your life back.”
This got her attention as she turned on the chair to face him. He leaned down with a grin spread across his face inching closer to her slowly afraid to move to suddenly incase he lost her. She was like the catch of the day, he had baited the hook, she had bitten and now he had to reel her in slowly.
Kendell Smith: “And how the hell do you plan to do that?”
“I have my ways. You of all people should know that when I put my mind to it I always get what I want and well what I want is to see you on top of your game again.”
She sniggered while he continued to smile at her.
Kendell Smith: “You have never in your life done something for somebody without it being beneficial to yourself so excuse me for being a little skeptical.”
“I’d expect this kind of reaction from you. If it wasn’t greeted with skepticism I would have assumed you’d lost your mind completely rather than just losing your dignity.”
She scoffed and looked away from him. If he wanted something from her then insulting her was the wrong way to get it. He placed his hand on her chin and pulled her face back around to look him in the eyes again. She tried to look away but he held her face firmly in place with his hand, which she pushed away from her.
“I want to make you a star again.”
Kendell Smith: “And how, pray tell, do you expect to do that?”
“There’s a new company opening Stateside. It’s set for big things and it needs a roster. It needs a roster full of memorable names and people who would do anything to win a match.”
Kendell Smith: “I’m retired.”
“So you keep saying but yet the bloodlust, it never goes away does it? Its there eating away at you right now. I see that look in your eyes, that look that says you want nothing more right now than to watch me bleed all over this Persian rug.”
He understood her. It was something that made her more nervous than the fact that he was a human hand grenade. He looked into her eyes and it was like he could almost tell what she was thinking, it was something she could never get away from. He was a sociopath to the bone but he knew her better than anybody else.
“The first match is called the Asylum. You’d like it; old building in Chicago, six people fighting and you can use anything around you as a weapon. Imagine the blood, imagine the carnage and tell me this isn’t something you want to be a part of?”
Kendell Smith: “Who’s involved?”
The smile on his faced widened as he realized she was almost his.
“Xavier Michaels, Cable, Armani Stylez and James Airington.”
They where all familiar names from when she had started the game all those years ago although she hadn’t heard of any of them in a long time. Maybe they, like her, had fallen away from the ring to do backstage work. She was intrigued by the big names that would be involved in the match. She knew why she’d be involved, she was a washed up has been but why where these other big names bothered with such a pointlessly violent match?
Kendell Smith: “I’m not interested.”
He looked a little taken aback by her words as if her response was not what she was expecting to hear when she parted her lips. He shifted his weight and continued staring at her.
“I don’t think you understand. This could be the making of you. The comeback I know you desperately want. You’re a step ahead of the rest of these guys. I need you to win this.”
Kendell Smith: “I need for nothing but for you to leave. I’m not interested. I’m here now and I’m not going to quit for the sake of flying back home to get maimed in some ridiculous fight.”
He stood up looking down on her in absolute disgust as if she had just declined a marriage proposal.
“I was right. You’re not the fucking fighter you used to be you’ve become your mother. A fucking quitter, so afraid to carry on that she hung herself from a rope around the lampshade. Is that the next step Kendell? When drinking yourself to death doesn’t work you’ll find another way. If that’s who you are then you can stay here and continue being the pathetic bitch you are. I’ll leave a rope by the door to speed up the process.”
It was the first time in a long time thoughts of her mother had entered her mind. Rage built up inside her, so much so that she felt like she might boil over. She watched as he walked away towards the door of the hotel room. Without thinking she flung the empty whiskey bottle across the room towards him, barely missing the back of his head it smashed against the door causing shards of glass to spread all around the room. He turned around quickly and lunged at her, grabbing her by the throat and forcing her up against the wall.
“Who the fuck do you think you are you little bitch? I come here to offer you a way out and this is the fucking thanks I get?”
The tips of her toes barely touched the floor as he held her tightly against the wall. She struggled to breath, barely able to understand a word he said as he screamed at her. All she could concentrate on was the pain that filled her chest as she gasped from air.
“You’re nothing anymore, you hear? You’re nothing!”
She clawed at his hand with her nails trying the escape the grip he had on her.
Kendell Smith: “Eli…. Please….”
Eli Keaton: “It’s Mr. Keaton to you, you fucking nobody. Maybe I should finish the job, save you a fortune on fucking whiskey money.”
With his free hand he brushed the fallen hair away from her face. The deformed look of anger on his face turning to that of amused satisfaction as the corners of his mouth crept up into a grin and he leaned his face in towards her. She began fighting less and less the longer he kept his hand around her throat.
Eli Keaton: “You’re just like every other woman only good for one fucking thing.”
As he kissed her on the cheek she closed her eyes trying to remember the good times. Trying to remember when life hadn’t been so hard. Was this it? Was this all there was left? Before her mind could wonder anymore he let her go, spitting in her face before allowing her almost limp body to slide down the wall and onto the floor.
Tears streamed down her face as she sat curled up against the wall. She cried, not because of the pain of the bruise now forming on her neck or the fact that he could have killed her if he wanted but because it was then, at that single moment in time that she realized just how far she was from where she had started and it disgusted even her. He looked down at her one more time with a snigger before turning on his heel and walking out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him.
She sat shivering against the wall for what seemed like an eternity. Memories of the people she lost, the people she loved, her whole life began to play over and over again in her mind. The room was dark now except for a sliver of moonlight that seeped in through a crack in the heavy blinds. Once the tears had stopped she pulled herself shakily to her feet and made her way across the room to the kitchenette where she opened a press and took out a bottle of whiskey before taking a seat at the kitchen counter. She looked at the bottle of whiskey and sighed before looking across at the television.
Wrestling, the irony.
She closed her eyes and hung her head dropping her hand and sliding open the drawer. Eli’s words played over and over again as if he where standing there still screaming them at her.
You’re nothing.
Tears began to stream again as she took the small prescription pillbox from the drawer and placed on the counter next to the bottle of whiskey.
A quitter.
She opened the pillbox and poured them out onto her hand, grabbing the bottle of whiskey in her free hand. In between sobs she stuffed the pills in her mouth and threw her head back, washing them down with too much whiskey causing her to spit some of it back out onto the counter. She closed her eyes again while she sobbed. This was it, this was what her life had become she had become somebody who could no longer look at themselves in the mirror.
She stood up, her legs weak beneath her as she gripped onto the edge of the counter for support. With blurred vision she looked across the room at the framed photo that sat solely on the table by the door, the person she used to be stared back at her hand in hand with the man she once loved. She stumbled across to it, grabbing onto the table and picking up the picture with a shaky hand.
Kendell Smith: “I’m so sorry.”
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Beep, beep, beep.
Her eyes fluttered open as she lay under the crisp white sheets. She stirred slightly and groaned feeling like she just went ten hours in the ring with Stargate Cade. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the bright lights that surrounded her.
Kendell Smith: “Wh…Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital.”
She turned her head to follow the sound of the voice. Sitting on a chair at the far side of the room was Eli Keaton reading a newspaper and never raising his eyes to meet her confused look.
Kendell Smith: “How?”
Eli Keaton: “I guess you opted out of using the rope like your mother.”
He sniggered while she lay there and the memories of the previous few hours came flooding back to her. She felt ashamed, embarrassed and weak. She couldn’t even kill herself without failing. She sighed and rolled over in the bed so that her back faced Eli. He glanced at her from over the newspaper before placing it on the table and pushing himself up from the chair. She wondered why he was there sitting at her bedside. He sat down on the edge of the bed behind her not speaking, just sitting in silence.
Kendell Smith: “Eli….”
Eli Keaton: “Hmm?”
Kendell Smith: “Sign me up for the match.”
She could almost hear him smile. She knew what was running through his mind as she spoke. She had given in, he had won and he knew it. He always got his own way and this time was no exception.
Eli Keaton: “I knew you’d come around.”
She closed her eyes. She hoped that she had made the right decision, that this would put her back on track, bring her back to her glory days but something in her gut told her she had just signed her soul over to the devil.
Eli Keaton: “After all, you owe me. I saved your life.”
And those words confirmed it.