Title: The end of it all
Featuring: Azrael
Date: Everyday
Location: Dark recesses of an ill mind
Show: Wrestle Fest IV Wrestle Fest IV

We see Azrael pacing around his home, moving room to room.  It appears to be a hacked security feed or someone broke in and placed the camera.  It is clear that he is unaware of the cameras.


Another setback.  I went back to wrestling to rebuild.  To improve what I had and lost. To give myself a better foundation to be the best husband, father, son, uncle, person that I can.  But this me, the family me, the rational me, the non-supernatural me. The man routed in reality, rather than other worldly. I just can’t handle it.  I am not strong enough. I have been through hell the last year, but its taken to much out of me. I am too broken to continue. I am of no use to anyone.  My presence here, in this world, is nothing more than a nuisance to everyone. The anger is all consuming and there is nothing that I can do to stop it. It is going to take everything again, and hurt the ones I love again.  They don’t deserve that, and I don’t want to see if they can handle it again.


Azrael walks into his kitchen, and the camera follows.  He paces around until he has had enough, and pours himself a stiff drink.  Filling the glass, much more than a normal amount and begins to drink.


You have helped take the edge before.  You have made things ok. You have settled the nerves and taken away the edge.  I pray that you do the same for me today. I need it, as I am headed down a dark path.  


Azrael takes a couple of large sips of his drink, hoping to numb the pain.  As he paces around the house, he drinks more and more. Clearly it is not having the desired effect, as he gets angrier and angrier.  His movements more erratic, more confused, and more distraught.


This is pointless.  Nothing I have done has gotten me the healing that I want.  The healing that I need. I haven’t even seen progress. Why do I continue to try and fight it?  Clearly, its not working. The happiness I seek, isn’t here. The fulfillment I need, isn’t here, and I don’t know where it is.  I don’t know how to find it anymore. I thought it would be in my children, but it’s not there. They haven’t responded the way that I would expected or hoped that they would have.  It’s clear they don’t need me anymore, and the way they act, it’s clear they don’t want me. Wrestling was supposed to bring me fulfillment, and allow a way for me to control the anger, a controlled burn.  It hasn’t been that way. I haven’t had the success that I have expected. Nothing in my life is going as expected. I can’t believe she would do this to me like this. Yes we had problems, yes I wasn’t perfect but, this, this I can’t handle anymore.  I needed her. I needed my family. That is what I was always looking forward to. This was what had given me the hope to continue. It was my guiding light. The light at the end of the dark tunnel that I had lived in. And she extinguished it. Put it out, like it wasn’t that big of a deal, like it was nothing.  Like I didn’t matter. Like what we had no longer mattered. That it wasn’t worth fighting for. God DAMN IT!!!!!


Azrael finishes his drink, and throws the glass across the room, where it shatters, leaving a mix of ice and glass in a pile at far wall.  He slumps down against another wall, tears streaming from his eyes, and he buries his head behind his hands.


Why?!? How?!? Why would she do this?  Why would she stop fighting? How could she just walk away? How could she do this?  What made it ok to stop fighting? Why?!? Why?!? Why?!? Why?!?


Azrael stands up and punches the wall, leaving a decent sized hole.


I’m going to kill him.  How could he do this, become the person that destroyed his life.  How could he allow that to happen to me after what it did to him. That son of a bitch.  


Azrael goes to the kitchen, and grabs one of his knives from his block, a six inch chef’s knife.  He grabs his coat, when his cell phone rings. Metallica’s The Unforgiven II plays, indicating that his brother is calling.


What do you want?  I don’t have time. I am going to hurt the son of a bitch…….No, she left…..I threatened them….Yeah, I asked if she wanted to be free, and she heard it as a threat…..no….I did, I have been trying to find me and find what makes me happy...I didn’t want to bother anyone….Still, I am not worth it. If she doesn’t want me, can’t be bothered with me, then why would anyone….No, she was fine, some walls not so much….I couldn’t make her happy.  She wouldn’t let me in, she was ashamed of that part of her, and hid it from me. Then complained that I didn’t support her. How can I support you if I don’t know that there is something wrong?...I don’t know. I thought I had a plan, I thought I saw the light out, but now, now I don’t know. People have told me that the fact that I am still here is impressive and shows my strength, but I don’t buy it. I don’t feel it.


Azrael sits back down, allowing talking with his brother to release some of the anger and the pent up emotions


I don’t have the patience to get myself out of this.  To see this through. I don’t have the strength….No, no  I don’t. I wish she hadn’t called EMS. That she would have just let me bleed out.  It would be easier for everyone. Less fighting and bickering. It would be done and over…..No, they don’t need me anymore.  No one needs me. Hell, no one wants me….No they don’t. They are on their path. They don’t want to talk to me. The one doesn’t want to see me again.  I am no longer good to anyone….No….Yes….But….ok...No….I don’t know. It's been almost a year, and things haven’t been much better…..No, I just don’t know how much more I can take.  Everywhere I look, there’s something that reminds me of what I’ve lost. Twisting the knife in deeper and deeper….I don’t know. The lawyers are handling it….I don’t know….I won’t….A nice soak does seem like a good idea….Yeah, I am not going to do anything stupid….No, I will call first….Ok, tomorrow then….bye


Azrael hangs up the phone and leans back into the couch.  Tears are still streaming down his face, but there a bit of relief in his face.  That the worst has passed, and things are going to be good. After a couple of deep breaths, he goes into his bathroom and begins filling his soaking tub.  He walks back into the kitchen, and looks at bottle of alcohol. He picks it up and looks at its contents, contemplating what to do. After a moment, he puts it away, grabbing a cold bottle of sports drink.  He makes his way back to the tub, after grabbing his tablet. He disrobes, and steps into the tub. He sinks into the water, allowing the heat of the water, to soak into his body, to help relieve the tension.  A relaxed look crosses his face as the soak is having the desired effect. After a few moments of enjoying the heat with his eyes closed, he grabs his tablet, and pulls up the book he has been reading. As some time passes, Azrael puts the tablet down, and adds more hot water to the tub.  As it fills, he sits back again and begins to tear up again. The tears come from a place of sadness and loss, as it is evident across his face. Again the realization of the situation hits him, leaving him longing for the days of his blissful ignorance of what his life really was. The nativity that his dreams had finally come true.  That he had what he always wanted and had pinned his childhood hopes on. The one thing that he thought was going to make him happy. He had it,and then he lost it. He lost his dream, and so much more. Things he had that he didn’t even know would bring him joy, but had come to enjoy. All of it, gone. All gone because of a reaction to one simple phase.   All because he couldn’t control his emotions while being told, “I’m not coming back” those fours words changed everything for him and his family. His reaction to those words made everyone’s lives, who he cared about and loved, who he worked with, who he was friends with, infinitely harder. He sent a ripple out into the world, all because he was broken, and didn’t even know it.  Everything that he has done since, the improvements, the steps, the programs, all designed to fix him. Everyone kept telling him to have patience, to look at the progress he was making and how far he had come. His expression and body language told such a story. It was clear he was suffering from an internal conflict. He couldn't see the progress. All he saw was what was wrong.  That is how he has always thought. No looking at what was good about a situation, but what was wrong and how it could be improved. He saw, not that his kids were trying and conflicted, just that he wasn’t there to share in their life everyday. He saw, not that him and his wife were miserable in the marriage, just that he had what he wanted. That realization hit him, that the one area where he didn’t see the negative, didn’t see what was wrong, was the one thing that destroyed his world.  The one thing he used as his foundation. Maybe if he had taken the same approach, things would have been different. Things would have been better, they could have changed, allowing him to make the improvements to save everything. So why didn’t he? What prevented him from seeing it? Was it because it was so important that he get what he thought would make him happy? Was it so that he just needed it so badly that he overlooked all the flaws and warnings? He didn’t know. He just knew what it actually was.  And that is crappy, to be kind. As these thoughts fought with the positive ones inside his head, he saw the knife on the edge from his earlier outburst before his brother called. He picks it up and looks at it, through watery eyes. He see the smoothness of the sharpened edge, the way the light didn’t reflect off the sharpened edge, but did off the rest of the blade. He noticed the balance in the knife, signifying the quality craftsmanship. The handle, with the ergonomic shape and black accents. It almost seemed fitting, that it knew what its purpose was even before purchase.  How fitting, that it was purchased by his wife for him as a gift one year. He slides his finger down the blade, allowing it to pierce the skin, with the lightest of pressure. He had taken good care of these knives, keeping them sharp and in tip top shape. Now they would be used for this purpose, their final act. As Azrael looked at the blood seeping from his finger, a look of calm passed upon his face. A sense of ease, a sense that everything was finally going to be ok. That he was going to get what he wanted, finally. That he was going to make it. The change in his body language and expression was drastic, night and day.  To see him now, one would never had known the turmoil he was suffering. He was a man that had the look as if he figured out his biggest problems and had the solution. With that, Azrael takes the knife below the water, and moves his arms. The water starts to change colors and the feed cuts out.

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