Four walls make a home… they also make a jail cell… a prison…
Just when you think you have a game plan for this shit storm we call life… it finds a way to fuck you over. To show you that no matter what you do… nothing will ever go as fucking planned. That the universe always has a variable you failed to plan for. That you failed to see as a possibility.
I thought that she would always be there. That she would never leave. That we would be together forever. A team. Partners. A marriage that could never be broken. Always working together to get through this fucking nightmare that we call living.
But that was a fucking lie.
IT WAS A FUCKING LIE!
Leave, She Did.
Cell (6) 6 (6)
Here I sit HOW… alone… in my cell of solitary. Trapped amongst my own thoughts. No one to share them with. No one that will listen to them. No one to curb them before they spiral off the windy road they have taken. Fallen into that rabbit hole, that once down… is so tough to claw your way out of with a helping hand.
Then there is the fact I am also stuck here at Alcatraz in lockdown.
These cell walls of Alcatraz are not kind. They do not hold sympathy, forgiveness or even compassion for those inside of them. They are cold, indifferent and will suck the life out of your body. I see why so many people compare prison to a marriage. But luckily for me, I’ll only be here for two weeks. Two short weeks until I am released from this cell and I get back the one thing that made me happy in life.
It was just ten days after Valentine’s Day, 2014 when she left. After that, things were never the same. She left for Mike Best, turning her back on me. Let’s not lie about it. It was heartbreaking. It was devastating. To lose the one you thought would always be there until the day you die.
But she was right to leave.
I wasn’t in a good place then… and I haven’t been for a long time. I sabotaged things back then… I drove her away from the man that she once knew… that she once loved. I know I’m not an easy person to deal with… to live with… to be with. The drinking… The anarchism… The “Ronald McDonald” red dreadlocks… The fuck awful stomach tattoo of my own fucking name… The HATE. The fucking dragon shirt. I could go on and on… laughing about some to try and hide the pain. Trying to not dwell on them and running them over and over in my head wondering where the fuck I went wrong.
But that is human nature… we all look back at the past and wonder if we did something wrong. If we could have done something better. If it would have changed anything. But what ifs are dangerous. They WILL fucking consume you if you let them. Those things are left in the sand of time now… and it is the future that we can only look to, learning from the past to try and not make the same mistakes.
That is if you feel like you deserve it. Which is the first step you need to climb before you can ever hope to get to the top of any mountain you’re hoping to reach. You need to believe in yourself. You need to be happy with yourself.
For so long that was not the case. There was a distinct HATE for myself that I tried to cover up and hide with a bravado that was way too over the top. The shit talking… oh the shit talking. A huge red flag that someone really hates themselves, trying to tear everyone else down to their level. So that maybe their own pain might not seem so bad? That there is a comfort in everyone being as miserable as them?
No… that’s not a healthy way to live. Especially when you can’t back a single one of your 140… or now 280 characters up. I mean how the fuck is anyone suppose to take you seriously when you talk a giant bag of shit… and then fall face first in it? Shit… the Twitter wars years ago were fun… but did anyone really win them?
We all ended up being losers… giant fucking losers of time wasted on some of the dumbest bullshit ever seen. Can anyone even remember any of it? Can anyone say all these years later that a single fucking tweet made our lives better… and not worse. We were young, dumb and full of shitty fucking tweets.
So as I sit here in this cell… and reflect on the past six years. Six long years since I was last with her… since I last held her… I realize that I didn’t treat her right. I see that I wasn’t the man that she deserved. But I believe… no, I fucking know I am that man now. I have been planning this for months now. Ever since I brought HATE back to HOW. From taking out Brenton Cross, to joining forces with Lucian, Hughie and RICK… only to use each and every one of them to get me back to this point…
Well maybe not a cell at Alcatraz… but to being just three seconds away from being reunited. I don’t think those in HOW appreciate the level of pure manipulation involved in being able to score a one on one Pay Per View title shot in HOW without wrestling a match in nearly four months. I would have never had this level of patience six years ago. I would have never been able to plot and scheme to make sure all the pieces fell right into place. I would have gone on some drunken Twitter rant and quickly gotten myself buried by those who could actually back their shit up. It might have taken me over twelve years to figure it out… but I’ve learned that words mean nothing if you can’t back them up.
That is why I showed you a couple weeks ago how different it would be… how different it will be this time. When I held you over Hughie… it felt so right… so good. I know you haven’t been happy lately. Held hostage by Max Kael in the middle of some sick political playground between North Korea and America. Neglected by a man in Farthington who couldn’t have cared less about you, wishing you were still his World Title. Then the quick fling with the broken shell of a bandit in Jiles… only to quickly rebound to… I can barely even say his name. To think of you with him… with fucking Hughie Freeman makes me sick. It’s only knowing that this broken road is the only one that can bring you back to me. Back to where you belong and to where we can finally both be happy again.
It was in those short, fleeting moments that I know we reignited that spark we used to have. That we reconnected in a way better than we ever have before. I felt it… and I know you did too. Enough so that we deserve it to each other to give this one more chance. Because what if this is the time that was meant to be. That this is the end to our long road. Do you really wanna miss that exit? Do you really wanna drift on aimlessly forever… wondering if the search could have ended here?
Take a moment. I have plenty of them to spare right now.
Let that all sink in. Let those thoughts bleed through your skull in the utter silence that The Rock tortures you with.
Enjoy it while you can. It’s not going to get any better for you.
Because in this love story… you can quickly forget about the HATE.
I know you think you have a lot at stake here Hughie. You just won your first singles title here in HOW. She was my first too. I know how it feels. Those new relationship butterflies. Where everything is perfect and you feel like you could just stare into each other’s eyes forever. That this feeling will last forever and nothing could ever go wrong.
Boy… that didn’t last too long for you… did it Hughie?
When the H.A.T.E. guards beat the shit out of you… when I drove the blade of that hockey stick into your throat. When I held her over you in a way that you will never be able too. When I reminded her what it feels like to be a real man. Not some piece of trash that is destined to rot in a cell just like this for the rest of his sad fucking existence.
That leads us so beautifully to that carrot that I have dangled in front of you for all the months since I locked you up here. Letting you think you’re getting closer and closer to being free… man, that is just fucking sad. For someone who thinks they are so fucking street smart… so clever in the ways of the world… it was so damn easy to manipulate your wannabe hobo ass to get exactly what I wanted out of you. Then when it is all said and done… when she is back in my arms and you have fully served your purpose. Discarded you will be… in the trash like an empty tube of lube that has just been unloaded onto the proverbial dick that is about to fuck you at Rumble at the Rock.
We all have a purpose here Hughie… and one would think you would have found yours by now. You certainly have had the time to do so. It would have made this all so much easier. But I knew you would be stubborn. Cling onto that flake of hope, no matter how small and futile it was. You’re a stubborn fucking bastard… it’s what made this plan work so perfectly. A lesser man would have broken by now. They would have never been able to fight their way to her. I knew that I had to literally put you down like the sick fucking dog you were to reclaim her as mine.
Knew? Had to? Were?
Maybe I was told something by Brenton Cross before I had Damien Ryan lay him to fucking waste.
Is your nose bleeding Hughie?
Maybe I just have faith…
Faith that something will lead me to by reign number six… six… six… with her.
This may no longer be a crucifixion match Hughie… but that doesn’t mean I can’t still crucify you. Plunging those stakes through your hands… letting your blood run down the cross and christening our new marriage together. Oh how wonderful that would be Hughie. That would be the perfect ending to this… the perfect ending to you. Watching me and her walk off into the San Fran sunset before you’re tossed back in that cell. Not to resurrect… but to waste away and be left as just a footnote in the diary that is the history of the LSD Title.
We all know I can make exactly happen in our match Hughie… I can do whatever I want once this door opens and I am release… and there will not be one single fucking person to stop me! Like I said… you might think you have a lot to fight for in this match… but it is nothing… NOTHING compared to what I am fighting for. You’re freedom… it means nothing. It is worth fucking nada, zip, zilch, fucking zero dollars and zero cents. Meanwhile me reclaiming her… me and the LSD Title being back together… that is as MasterCard calls it… priceless.
So if you were not deprived of the access to a television… I’d tell you to watch the tapes. Watch when I beat Chris Kostoff not once… but twice for her. Watch when I pretty much put down Static to save her from him. When I took down the incomparable Professor Keller. When I humiliated Scott Stevens, Brian Hollywood and Chris Diamond on the street of New York fucking City.
I’d then ask you to watch when she broke my heart… over and over again. By going back to that monster Chris Kostoff. Running off with the hot new thing in HOW, Christopher America at the Alamo… yeah, I fucking remember… I’ll always remember America. Or how about the trip to Paris where she found David Black and was swept off her feet for a hundred and eighty-nine days. Something I should have learned from… but nearly four years later I made the same mistake and lost her to David again. It was the fifth time though… when she ran off with Mike Best that hurt the most. Because it has been tearing at my heart for nearly seven years now. So many other hands… including yours Hughie has held her. I almost resigned to the fact that she would never be mine again… that we were truly over… that we were done.
Because believe me… I have tried… many times since then. Tried to win her back, only to be shot down by that cold hand of rejection. I’d ask you to even watch those too Hughie. McKenna, Hollywood, Electra, Flair… she chose all of them over coming back to me…
And as I said… she was fucking right to… right to leave me… right to reject me.
Because I was not the man… or in Flair’s case, the woman she deserved at the time.
So I’d say watch the tapes… if you could. Watch my highs. Watch my lows.
Because that is what you will not see once these doors are unlocked. Once we are released. Once I finally hit the end game on a very long road all set to win her back. She won’t choose you Hughie… who ever fucking would. She is going to come back to me.
Leave, She Did… but soon she will return. Return to my arms Hughie, where she belongs. And while I’ll continue to suggest to not stop the inevitable… I know you will. That is who you are Hughie. A fighter until the bitter end. And maybe… maybe if things were different… I could have seen us being great team members in HATE. But that wasn’t in the cards. You’re destiny here in HOW is to be the one that reunites me with my LSD Title. To complete the fairy tale story that Disney will be sucking my dick to get the rights too. Oh this story is right up their fucking alley in more ways than you could imagine. Plus it’s actually real… unlike the shit they usually fucking peddle that perpetuates a reality that no one can ever fucking live up.
Beauty never fucks the Beast… Simba never regains his father’s throne… and Aladdin gets fucking murdered by Jafar who does who knows what with a Princess he should never even be looking at. Don’t even get me started on how The Little Mermaid really ends up in your next can of fucking Tuna. Reality is not pretty… it’s not some fucking sing-a-long… it’s gritty and fucking ugly. Oh how it’s gonna be ugly for you Hughie. I know you think shit was sick and twisted when you lit Lucian on fire… when you smell his flesh burning under that Great Pumpkin face paint or mask… as if I gave a fuck. All I saw… all I cared about was getting back to her. So please… please just try to imagine what I will do once those doors are opened. And then throw it all the fuck away. Because I will do all that and ten times more to get her back. To show her that she is the only thing in this entire world that matters to me.
Leave… She… Did…
Past tense… again.
Return… She… Has…
Scotty lowers his head, finally turning his attention away from the wall of his cell. Away from the crudely drawn stick figure of what seems to be Frankie holding a camera, as he wipes the blood from his right index finger off on his orange jumpsuit.