I opened my eyes to the ceiling, my mind still seemed to be lost in a thick cloud of confusion. My life, my career, they were all traveling down a forgotten road of failure. No show after no show, loss after loss. I could blame it on someone else, or say the bounces haven’t been coming my way, but fuck it.
There was rustling beside me, and looking over I saw the bare backside of a shapely female. Curves that could blow your mind.
I started to breathe heavier, my newfound sense of guilt over taking me. I sat up, slowly and as quiet as possible, trying not to wake the slumbering beauty beside me. I swung my legs off from the bed, looking down in the darkness for my underwear. I searched the floor blindly, my hands passing over different articles of clothing, thrown carelessly to the floor in the moment of passion the previous night.
I finally passed over a material which I recognized as my boxer briefs. I slowly stood up, and pulled them on, reaching to the nightstand beside the bed for my pack of smokes.
I was a blind man, standing before a rainbow, unable to admire the beauty of this natural wonder.
I found the smokes, and the lighter, and walked to the sliding balcony door, sliding it open as slowly and quietly as possible. The last thing I needed was to be wrapped in to some shallow conversation with another one of my affairs.
I stood over the railing, peering down on the world below. People walking through the streets, horns honking, as traffic seemed to be endless; bumper to bumper. There were screams and yells, bells ringing, doors slamming. How I missed my life.
I whirled around, looking behind me. Nothing. No one was there to speak to me, nor was there anyone within a hundred feet. Yet the voice; familiarity. I turned back to the view of the world, laughing to myself, taking another
"Why Freddie? Why?"
Again, the voice was taunting me. I whirled around, again, there wasn't anything before me.
"I wasn't enough? Having a child wasn't enough."
Playing with me. I WAS being taunted. Aurora. I took another drag, holding my hands to my temples. The stress of this entire situation was beginning to overwhelm me. Fucking shit, I was lost in an endless battle with insanity, and I was losing.
"Freddie, you know what you need to do."
This time, it was a different voice. I knew this one. I've always known this one.
"What can I do?" I asked myself.
"Try?" I repeated. "What the fuck are you talking about. I've given everything."
"No Freddie, you've lost everything. You were the best, now you're nothing. You've even jobbed to Moe Davis. You're a nobody now, but it was all your own doing."
Like a house with weak foundation, everything crashed around me. I saw the truth in these words. I ran like the coward I am. When the tough got going, I left, simple as that.
An image of that shiny Impact title flashed before me. I was fucked over in that decision. I wasn't the only one who felt the same way, but shit happens. Instead of pushing myself back in the comfort of that strap, I pushed myself away, plummeting to the bottom.
"I fucked up. How can I remedy this."
"Change Freddie. Change."
I awaited the opening of the clouds, the advice of another king, but I had lost that right. I wasn't deserving to be a Wrestling GOD anymore. I had to rebuild myself. Rebuild my kingdom.
I smiled and looked forward, peering to the distance, the sun rising, calling forth another day of hurt, and pain.
"No." I said, "Today is going to be different."
I slowly smiled, an emotion I hadn't felt of late. I walked back in to the room, but there was something different. The woman now laid on her back, a thick stain of red beneath her. My eyes widened as I saw her throat was slashed.
"Liz?" I whispered.
This was the beginning, of the reign of Freddie Styles.
I sat with my back to the door, as I could hear the men approaching, the heels of their shoes clicking with every step. Sweat beads rested on my brow, and my breathing was cut to short, silent breaths.
It had been like this the past few months. These same three men were searching for me, investing every ounce of time and effort in to destroying the small amount of dignity I had left.
My thoughts were cut short as I heard the voices of the men. I could faintly recognize the voice.
"Where is he? How did you lose him Moe?" The man with the accent said. The sound of their voices was slowly closing in. Within minutes they would find me, and would be terminated.
"Don't blame me. You said he went this way." Said one of the other men.
As the three men stood in the hall, I unclipped the strap of my gun holster. Normally I would've panicked, but I was at the edge of existence now. There wasn't any reason to be fearful of these men, or even death. The three of them in the hall were still made the same as me; flesh and blood.
I remained silent as I could hear their breathing grow louder and more exasperated. They were become frustrated; that could be the advantage I needed.
"Johnny, I want you to check every room on the first floor of this abandoned dump. Moe, you take the third floor; I'll check this one. If it takes all night, we're going to find this bastard." Said the leader, it was surely van Owen.
I looked around the room, and saw nothing that would help me escape this rat trap. There was a window, but it had been boarded shut years ago; the rotted wood engulfed the room in its putrid aroma. It was my only escape, but I had no clue as to whether I'd be able to escape without breaking my legs in a free fall. Besides that, the sound of the wood breaking would give up my hiding spot, and again, the advantage would swing to the three men.
"Shit." I whispered to myself, my eyes widening with panic.
I could hear the two henchmen scurrying along the halls, hustling to the stairwell. I could hear Zach's voice, bellowing through the halls.
"Styles, you don't have much longer before I find you. Then this game of cat and mouse is over. By the way, when you're gone, I'll take care of Aurora and your boy for you."
I could hear him laugh to himself, confidence filled his words. At that point, numerous feelings overcame me. Flashbacks ran through my mind, as I felt the rage build up in my stomach, almost confusing me with knots of nervousness.
"No." I whispered again. "Not Aurora."
Things now became clear.
What's that metronome I hear, perhaps the end is drawing near
You never hear the shot that takes you down
Now your dream's a memory, and seems more true from far away
Just like smoke that fades and makes no sound
Guess who's back? You're damn fucking right. All the talk about me, all the airtime my name has been getting. It feels fucking great to be back. There's one big question going around, this I know.
Where's Freddie Styles?
I bet you three were dreading this, hoping that I'd no show. Hoping that I'd be so consumed in the struggles of my losses, that I'd clearly be taken out right away. Fat chance.
Almost to the mountain top, you slip and fall just like a stone
Rolling ever faster to this nightmare you have sown
You had it all right in your grasp, but in a breath your minute passed
Now, at last, the end has come, you are all alone
And here we are. You all should be thanking me. All on my own, I've breathed glorious life into a division that was dead and buried. You are all hear because of me. And I only have myself to blame for this predicament. This wasn't supposed to be a 4 way hate affair. It was supposed to be just two men in this cage. But I gave Johnny and Moe the opening, and Jon threw you in here on the strength. The only loser in this cage is me...yet without me, this match wouldn't be happening at all. As usual, I created a mountain of a molehill, and now I gotta go climb it or die trying.
This business doesn't have any mercy. It will tear you limb from limb in the name of glory. Then when you're all used up or worse, and they've taken evey ounce of life you've got with all the things they put you through, they'll say you didn't have any character. There will be tears, but not for you.
Not for you. They'll weep for themselves, because you were their toy, and now they've lost you.
That's where I am right now in everyone's eyes. I'm all used up, and this is that last gasp before they pull the trigger and I'm gone....just another broken, dead wrestler sacrificed to the altar of this business....to the gaining of somebody's glory. I talked my way into this match, but no one believes that I can get it done.
Honestly, I don't fully believe I can get it done.
I'm really on the edge of my life and sanity here. I can't go and diappear like Zach, put on a trench coat and be reborn, I can't beat a hall of famer like Johnny and Moe did to get a shot. I lost, and lost, and lost...lost to world champions and new people. Lost my status, my respect, and now, one more loss will be the end. Someone will say they can retire a CWF hall of famer at Vertigo. That's what everyone expects, right? That's what everyone wants to see...Freddie get fingered and fucked up, isn't it?
I'll give you all what you call for, I promise. I'l get in my zone, I'll wow the crowd and steal the show...and I'll lose for you. Because that's what you want. You don't want me to be a champion, and that's OK. It didn't use to be, but now...now that my best friend is off to the heights he's supposed to be reaching, my girl and my unborn kid are in the wind and out of my life, I've got shit else to live for but yall. So one last time, I'll kill myself for your adoration. I'll make you see things in that ring that Johnny, Moe, nor Zach can ever show you. And then I'll lose for you, because I know you love me when I lose. You hate me when I win, and I'm tired of being hated.
Vertigo is my murder scene....my final act. Maybe I have enough in me to fell the gamer, the jumper, and Mr. Graves, escape the cage and raise that Impact title for a second time. I don't know anymore. Realistically, this is my bitter end. Maybe there is peace in the afterlife...because there isn't in my life anymore, and it, like this business, is killing me slowly.