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Post by PWXonline on May 15, 2014 18:18:43 GMT -5
Main Event
Opportunity Knocks PWX Championship Tourney Match
JT Midas vs Roxxie Roberts vs Kaelyn Divera
Deadline: 5-20-14 at Midnight CST
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Post by Kaelyn Divera on May 16, 2014 10:05:27 GMT -5
November, 2008.
Kneeling down on the hard ring was a man who felt defeated… sweat braced his brow… lines wearing thin on his face. Some color had been washed from his face as he caught his breath, waiting for it to be over. Refraining from looking up, he then been laid out on the floor before his attacker. His head, bald in its glory, was shining beneath the spotlights… a black curved moon shaped marking beside his right eye, with three spikes painted outwards.
This man reached out for him, pulling him to his feet… calm in his stance… this ‘crazy,’ monster had a straight face, all while holding up the man I cared deeply about in his clutches. Inside me, a beast had rumbled, the very beast that had been hidden for the past two months. My body launched me down the ramp in utmost urgency, reaching out to be a savior I not usually am. My arms rapidly moving beside me, feet as fast as they could run, I look in to the eyes of the monster.
Krazy Konway.
Hoisting him up, like Uncle Rafikki did to Simba in Lion King, Konway appeared perfectly comfortable in his career ending choice as he attempts to eliminate the competition for the EWA throne, the World Heavy Weight Championship.
Making my way to ring side, hoisted by the first rope I pull myself through kicking the man I care about out from under his clutches. The face of Konway changes to annoyance as he towers over me, unable to catch my footing I back up to the ropes as he approaches. The calls from the audience rain down on me to move, to save myself from the turmoil that is about to come. Inhaling as sharply as I had ever felt, I pull myself to a ready stance and attempt to attack the man I eagerly pissed off.
Holding my arms at bay, a sickening laughter escapes his lips. Lifting me from position, he turns around and throws my body like a bean bag across the ring, rolling in a crumbled heap to the floor. An inevitable snap courses through my leg as it catches the far turnbuckle, and I bellow out in obvious pain. His feet moving slow on the ring floor, Konway makes his way towards me, pulling my arm to the ropes forcing me to stand on my now broken leg, screams escaping my lungs.
Konway then pulls me outwards to the center of the ring and throws me towards the opposite ropes, head forced in to whip lash, I fly through the air back to the center like a feather, and meet with the thick arm of Konway throwing out my back and snapping my midsection as I flop like a doll to the center of the ring. Proud of his actions Konway meets the disapproval from the fans by lifting his arms to the crowd. This six foot man, weighing nearly two hundred and eighty pounds comes crashing down with a leg drop across my head as I was lifting to escape his blow.
THUCK!
Whipping my head back down to the matt, it bounces and falls to the side… eyes full of pain. In that blissfully shocked moment, I felt nothing, not a lick of pain as I looked in to the groggy eyes of the man laid out before me, his eyes now widening with fear as he sees my battered frame. Pulling himself up, he rapidly makes his way over to me, gently lifting my head in to his lap as security then sustain Konway, and EMT’s rushing down the ramp.
Unable to move, in a broken heap laid out on the ring floor his warm hands caress my cheeks as he leans in closer to my face asking why repeatedly, a pained expression across his eyes. Meeting his gaze, even briefly, a wave of cold rushes through my body, “I lov…” was all that escaped my lips before the burning of immense pain overwhelmed me and I slipped out of consciousness to the sound of his rapidly beating heart. EMT’s rush their way to our side, as a single tear falls from his eye, and meets my cheek before being swept away from his arms.
___________________________________________________
Face down in the pillow,
Burying tears with sobs.
Searching for salvation,
My heart forgotten in limbo.
Grasping for air,
Beneath the vicious wave.
Her body broken,
Frail and unable to save.
Fractured moonlight on the sea,
Looking up from the deep.
Death breaking over me,
With no way to escape.
Giving up, given in,
Going ways under.
Delivering me in darkness,
My soul forever in plunder.
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May 15, 2014.
Pulling back the rubber bands, MGD bottle cap neatly placed in the middle, and letting out with a whizz through the air, and empty beer bottle clanks over the railing and plummets to its demise on the pavement, hitting a solid entity before shattering.
“Watch what you’re doing asshole!?” a voice calls upwards towards the balcony. A slick smile curves my lips. Walking casually over to the balcony edge, I look down at the woman.
“Why don’t you come teach me a lesson cunt!”
The scowl on her face feeds my flames, as I watch her facial expression boom with ridicule. It was amusing watching her saunter up the stairs in to the hotel. Bracing myself with amusement, I open the door to my hotel room and wait for her to enter. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, carefully examining my makeshift sling shot.
“You certainly know how to make a scene don’t you?” she asks me, looking at me from the door frame… all in her five foot-eight inch glory. Her fierce dark red hair hitting her shoulders like she had a thunderstorm coursing through her. Eyes wild and vindictive, arms crossed and leaning to the right. Wearing two inches of atrocious looking leopard print heels, a pair of baby phat skinny jeans, and a long sleeved light teal Garcia Jeans top.
“Isn’t that what little sisters are for?” I questioned her, raising my left brow in her direction.
Whipping her hair to the side, peering out the balcony for a short moment, “You want to take this up in the ring little girl because I will make a one night debut just to knock you down a few pegs.”
Sparking my lighter to my mouth to light my cigarette, I place my sling shot on the bed side table and grab a hold of my freshly opened beer. “I would be honored,” I said to her, bowing sarcastically like a knight would to its Queen. “As you wish, your highness.”
Peeling herself from the door frame, she walks over, cell phone in hand and taps both shoulders. “I know dub thee, Kaelyn Divera, as a vicious mastermind… and lord of intoxication.”
Glaring up at her, I raise to a stand and slap the phone from her hand, face burning in anger. “You saying I have a drinking problem Maddy?”
Facial expression calm, confident even she rolls her eyes at me, “You know your false demeanor won’t intimidate me Kai… and don’t forget for a moment that I will destroy you if you call me that again… You’re my sister and I love you… but your actions have gotten out of the control.”
“This is coming from somebody as cynical as you?” I note in her direction, plagued by my inner demons I turn from her, hands trembling in anger. I walk over to the balcony.
“I may be cynical… but you’re malicious Kaiyela...”
Gripping a beer bottle in my hand tightly, knuckles turning white, I turn and whip the bottle at her, smashing against the wall beside her head. “DON’T CALL ME THAT!” I protest, battling myself within… one aspect of me wanting to annihilate her and the other wanting to protect her.
“Kai, I didn’t mean to… it’s just a hard adjustment,” she pleaded with me, something she never used to do… she raised her hands up by her head and edged towards the door frame, reaching behind her and closing the door.. What was she doing?
Run!
“We’ve watched you for months wither away to nothing as you dealt with the loss of Iy…”
I thrashed another bottle at her head, the immense pain searing through my temples once again… the migraines… Scowling, screaming, and growling… ripping the sheets off of the bed, overturning the mattress, smashing the lamp…
“Don’t Madison… LEAVE….. NOW!” I beg of her, trying to control myself… unleashing hatred, pain, despair…. The never ending loss of myself. Tearing in to the walls with beer bottles, throwing everything I could find in my path. Heart quickening with frailty, my mind crashing before me… falling to my knees once again, like I had at Adrenaline… when I saw him… when I saw.
Caleb Houston
Gripping my chest, my insides thrashed in fear… pulling on my hair, the cigarette I once held lost… smothered under the mess that was once a hotel room. She stood there, by the door, eyes in shock as she watched the beast inside me battle with my heart, my soul, my mind. She gripped the door knob with nervousness coursing through her… a perspective of Madison Divera, I have never seen before.
Shoving my hands through my hair, I begin to curl in to a thick ball upon the mounds of bed sheets and broken wood shambles, forehead meeting my knees. Intertwining my fingers behind my head, I begin to rock back and forth in spot… crashing down and giving in. Salty tears trace the contours of my face and hit my pants as I let it go… giving in… let it engulf every part of me…
Endless pain…
Forever…
For always…
No escape…
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From seed to a blossom, and that is how a flower grows. I watched you for weeks, being knocked down and getting back up again. Fighting your own skill in the ring every week, trying to decipher your own talent. You challenged yourself physically but most of all mentally. What were you supposed to do at that age? Graduate high school with decent grades and struggle in college or university to try and make honors, with the regrets of ditching glasses and staring hopelessly at the most popular girl in school knowing you will never be good enough to be called her man.
It’s much different for people like us.
That feeling in the pit of our stomach, the burning itch in our muscles to be more than just, ‘ordinary.’ I know the feeling, all too well. Six years ago… I was already very well versed with the logics of competition… wrestling, boxing, mixed martial arts… that feeling started when I was seven years old. You were a fresh face in the crowd, a newborn in the eyes of Elite Wrestling Academy; cradling its baby until they were able to walk on their own, talk on their own, grow their wings and soar like a Phoenix. You were expected to learn from your mistakes, and they predicted there would be many in your wrestling career infancy.
You were much harder on yourself.
I could see it in your eyes week after week, your greatest weakness, frustration, being your downfall every time you faltered in the ring. Jay Williams, Scott Pillman, Lucas Hilton…. They made it unnervingly on your hit list in those few short weeks. All because you let your impatience get the better of you… your unwillingness to take it one step at a time in the ring… being careful… but brutal. You were a ruthless machine, my dear, pushing it all out at once, without a saving a breath… you were confident enough to sweep them away within five minutes, no protest… no struggle when you pinned them.
It didn’t go the way you planned.
When they resisted… when they matched your brutal strength with their brains, their swiftness, you knew there was something missing. You struggled deeply to crack the code, bring them down. When they surfaced again, that teenaged boy came to the surface and threw a temper tantrum, screaming in burning fury of their resiliency. When you would lose, it would hit you hard, dragging you further down the mental trail of darkness. Your heart ached, you felt defeated, but you scrapped together whatever pride you had left and sauntered to the ring the next week… attempting to not let it happen again…
And it would.
You out-shined a lot of people, despite your weaknesses, your losses. The weeks you came out victorious were the night’s people saw you glow in the ring. You moved quickly in the ring, almost flawless, carefully wearing your opponent down little by little… but you were a ticking time bomb. You couldn’t keep it in for long… the demons at bay. In the end, you lost your drive and your couple month career had ended… weighing your problems on your shoulders like the heaviest burden.
It has been six years darling, and I am more than confident that boy with an immense amount of potential grew out of his shell and surfaced in to a well skilled man. I rather look forward to our encounter in the ring, and see the maturity of your skills over the years. Leave that eighteen your old boy back in the past, buried with the ruins of Elite Wrestling Academy.
Don’t let your frustrations be your down fall, JT Midas.
And then there were two seeds that blossomed. Roxxie Roberts, Miss America as you were once called. My sweet, innocent, and adorable niece… whose pride always got the better of her. The little girl, that grew from a gullible and shy child to a rather vindictive woman. A few years back I would have never pegged you as somebody who would use one’s history against the other… the way you did to Joey Harris. Always trying to fix him, turn him in to your prince charming… make him a…
Better man.
Blind by your swollen heart, you ached for him to be what you needed… the man of your dreams… riding up on a horse in silver armor shining in the moonlight. To sweep all your tears, your fears away. Looks like your knight forfeited his honor, and ran off when a complication rose… the complicated that took you under in to my world for a year… the world of torment and despair… the mirrored evil of this imperfect world.
He never ran after you.
He cowered his tail, and set off for greener grass across the fence. Not once did he turn back to save you from oblivion… he ran Roxxie, he ran long and he ran hard… to PWO… to a place far from you, a place of no return.
However, you got my respect… you found him, despite your knowledge of his ‘death,’ and you ‘fixed’ him. Being the bit of Divera that you are, you gripped at your roots, took lessons from your mother, and held on for the rough ride that was going to be Joey’s salvation. I have watched you grow for some time… whether there is a year and half between us or a century… it has been cherished time watching you bloom from what you were to what you have become… the girl then, I would have never cared to face… but the woman you have become would be an honor to pick apart piece by piece.
Just like EWF did to you, and you still took it all in stride… beating yourself up, and trying to lock your hurt pride away. The World Heavy Weight Title in your reach, just beyond the ropes, your fingers brushing it softly… You yearned for its glory… craved the power… and although it being right there, you were unable to defeat the man you claim to love… you hopes, dreams flashed before your eyes in an instant and your pride came falling down on your like acid rain, burning you away with it.
It must have hurt… walking in the shadow of ‘The Natural,’ Joey Harris… riding backseat while he was glorified as the EWF World Heavy Weight Champion… the most feared and sought after man in the company, being the second fiddle.
Just like the Next Generation Championship Match.
Eliminated… broken and bruised… yet you still managed a smile after Joey threw you aside like yesterday’s garbage and staked claim for the Next Generation Title, by pinning Alexander Atwater. Memories flooding your mind as you replayed your match with him and Paul Blair in your head, rewinding and playing in slow motion… and yet you still carried on, by his side. But do you have it Roxxie… now that you have came out from behind your loved one, stole some success for yourself… and have yet to lose to a true competitor of Pro Wrestling X… Do you have what it takes..?
To crush his hopes and dreams, sweep the World Heavy Weight Title out from under his velour?
Your skills are much more advanced than six years ago, graceful, poised, and ruthless… you have all the ingredients for a deadly bomb. But that it all that you are Roxxie, a bomb… and one day, and soon, it will go off… taking Joey Harris down with you.
I love you, always have, always will… I will always say you are my niece with pride… and honor. You surprised me year after year… but when it comes to your success and mine…
I will always come out as a cut above the rest…
Even above you.
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JT Midas
PWX Trainee
"The Outlaw Star"
Posts: 16 
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Post by JT Midas on May 18, 2014 4:36:54 GMT -5
May 17, 2014
It was late, and The Joker's Wild Pub had been closed for about ten minutes. It was unusually slow, for a Saturday night, but this really didn't bother Johnny at all. In fact, any opportunity to relax on the job was very much much appreciated! However, the night is over, and the bar needed to be taken care of. Johnny sighs in agitation, already wearing thin of the sticky wet spots on his hie marble counter.
"Shoulda' retired years ago," he grumbles. "Johnny, ya' fucking idjit!"
"Excuse me," a young, deep male voice calls out, "this is The Joker's Wild, yeah?"
"Yeah," Johnny retorts, irritated more-so by the man who had seemingly wandered into the closed bar. More accurately, there were two men. Both were just over six-feet, with the tallest of the two standing maybe 6'2", and there both a bit stock, with short, dark hair, and clean-shaven. "But we're closed."
"Don't worry, grandpa," the second, shorter man grunts, "we ain't lookin' for a drink."
"We got a message," intercepts the taller man, "for JT Midas."
Johnny raises an eyebrow of curiosity, but stands his ground. "Look, boys, the kid ain't here right now, and I'm fixin' to close shop right now. Why don't you boys come back tomorrow, after I've got a good night o' sleep and not about to kick a couple'a punk-asses?!"
The two men chuckle to each other, and the shorter man puts his hands into his pockets. "Oh, but I really think the boss would want JT to get this message."
Without warning, the short man's partner pulls out an M1 pistol, and shoots Johnny in the chest. The old man instantly falls to the floor, concealed behind the counter of his bar. The shooter hastily locks the safety mechanism, shoving the gun back into his pocket, and he glances over at his partner. "You remember the plan, right?" He asks, his voice a bit shaky, but otherwise seemingly calm and collected.
The shorter man smiles. "'Down in flames,' right?"
"You got it!" The tall man chuckles. "Just the way the boss would like it."
The gunman stands by as his partner leaves the bar, and quickly returns with a tank of gasoline. He wastes no time in dousing the floor, the counter, the walls- every corner of the bar- in gasoline, leaving open a trail that leads to the doorway. The man tosses the empty container aside, retrieving a matchbook from his pocket as he and his partner head toward the door. He strikes the match, and tosses it to the floor.
"'Down in flames,'" the short man chuckles, leaving safely as the bar ignites into flames.
May 12, 2014
It had all happened so fast, like a scene from a movie. I'm sure most of you remember "Annie"- little orphan girl who goes from rags to riches overnight. She had literally nothing, living a life of negligence and abuse in her group home, until she was discovered by a billionaire businessman who instantly fell in love with the little girl; suddenly, little orphan Annie had everything. Now, faster than it happened the first time around, Daddy Warbucks had once given me the world.
Immediately, I did the only thing I could process in my mind, which had been effectively blown- I got in touch with Caleb. Who else could possibly know what is going on? Of course, I knew that it had been years since he had kept any sort of contact with Adam Stone. In fact, in a lot of ways, Caleb still holds Adam Stone to blame for his falling into substance abuse. It is no well-kept secret that the drugs are what led to Stone's release from the EWA in the first place; unfortunately, by that time, Adam Stone was so deeply ingrained into Caleb's life that he was helpless to resist the temptations of that party lifestyle that Stone so seamlessly embodied. Adam Stone was a parasite, and he lived vicariously through Caleb Houston.
No sooner had I sent out the text to Caleb's cell, asking if he knew what was going on, than I felt the obnoxious, jolting BUZZZZ from my phone. I picked it up from my lap, reading over the text that I had just received.
I contemplated calling him, for a moment, but decided it would be pointless. Caleb has never been one to lie, and, particularly in this situation, I don't see why he should know what Stone wants; I also discovered that old habits die hard, and Caleb had started using again. We spoke on the phone the other night and he sounded like shit, doped out of his skull on Ambien and Oxycodone. He had just won his match against Assassin, and decided he needed to celebrate. At least, that's what he would have me believe. Better than anybody else, maybe, do I understand the demons Caleb Houston struggles with.
I guess that's it, then. For the better part of four years, I have been a nobody, not so much as a dime to my name, living out of an old storage room at The Joker's Wild, beating up drunk assholes every night, and drinking myself stupid in between. Now, I'm back to the point I was in 2009, just after Elizabeth Black closed up shop. Everything I had before- the money, the resources- could all be mine again, if I want it. After so long, I was finally in a position to get back on track.
Finally, JT Midas would once again be worth his weight in gold.
* Present Day *
May 17, 2014
Earlier that day...
Caleb mentioned to me last week that Adam Stone had stopped in to see him, giving him the keys to this infamous gym, and even then it just didn't sit well with me. Yeah, at first, I felt like Stone was up to something dirty, but now...it feels like something else, something deeper. Still, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that something big was about to go down.
I approached the Lion's Den, and I couldn't help but smile to myself as I remembered the good ol' days in EWA, pursuing Paul Blair and the Lionheart Championship. Memories of my time in EWA often go sour just as quickly as they come, however, and I waste little time in shaking the thought out of my head. Being inside the gym, however, brought back a lot of memories, and more memories of the Elite Wrestling Academy. I remember training with Caleb in this gym in my first days with the company. I remember him taking me under his wing, as I was fresh out of high school and wrestling camp, but extraordinarily wet behind the ears, as far as fighting is concerned. Everything I know in the way of mixed martial arts, I learned from Caleb Houston.
Kaiyela was around a lot back then; she goes by Kaelyn now, inside the PWX bubble. I remember when the gossip started- the rumors that she and Caleb were an item, at the time. He didn't know me as well then, obviously, so he really didn't let me in on much, and by the time he did know me it was too late. I remember how upset Caleb was when she was injured, and how confused he felt about the situation in general. He had always considered Kaiyela...Kaelyn...a friend, absolutely. I think everything had happened so quickly that he wasn't sure how to receive it. I was changing in the back, fresh from my shower after a crippling loss to Scott Pillman, and I caught Caleb's match with Krazy Konway on the monitor. I saw her walk to the ring that night, not knowing the next time I would see her, she would be lying in a hospital bed. Caleb never forgave Konway for hurting Kaelyn, and I will never truly know if she forgave him, either...because she would never be the same woman she was on that night.
I know Kaelyn- "Miss Fabulous," as she sometimes prefers. I've watched her in the ring, back then, and now, and I can tell she hasn't missed a step in her absence. Kaelyn Divera is just as vicious and dangerous a competitor as she had always been. After all, she had a name to live up to! Beneath all of this ferocity, however, I know that she is hiding something terrible. Kaelyn Divera is a phenomenal woman- maybe I don't necessarily consider her a friend, nor an enemy, but I absolutely respect her; on the other side of the proverbial coin, however, Kaelyn is a woman who is just not focused enough to get the job done. She is dangerous, but not drive; agile, but unaware. I would be foolish to underestimate the force challenge that Kaelyn Divera imposes on me in the ring, but I also know better than to believe she has what it takes to succeed this time.
"Are you lost?" I drifted, lost in thought, but I come back to life as I follow the deep, snarky voice. Caleb Houston looks down from the upper tier, the floor which houses his new apartment, smiling that familiar, asshole smile that only he seems to possess. "If you're waiting for me to hold you hand, you can go fuck yourself."
I laugh. "Hold my hand? I don't even want to know where those things have been!"
Caleb proceeds down the ladder, touching ground on base-level. He looks...not good. That's not to say he doesn't look fit- he is actually in great shape; the bags under his eyes, the thick five-o'clock shadow, and his matted hair distract from the rest of him. Had I not already known that he was back on the pills and the heroin, this meeting would have been a dead ringer.
We talked for a while, discussing the PWX Opportunity Knocks Tournament, among other things. There wasn't a lot that I felt we could address, as far as the tournament was concerned. Caleb didn't seem to feel any sense of urgency regarding his upcoming match against Brock Whitworth, and I wouldn't dare breach the topic of Kaelyn Divera with him. Where Roxxie Roberts is concerned...well, it seems the apple hadn't fallen so far from the tree, after all. It would be easy to say that her obsession with Joey Harris, as well as his own sadistic influences, had rubbed off on her; truthfully, I suspect it is just in her blood. She is a natural-born Divera, of course, not to mention she was raised by the most evil of them all- Kaelyn's sister, Madison. This new-found mean streak of hers will only get her so far, though, and I think she already knows this, herself. No, then, I was not here to discuss the tournament.
I wanted answers about Adam Stone.
"I'm sorry, dude," Caleb finally replies, after I had been probing him for information. "I just don't have anything for you."
I believed him.
"You have to admit, though," I attempt to push on him, "that there is something about this whole mess that just doesn't make any sense. He disappears for how many fuckin' years, and finally comes back to the world, just to hand out money and new homes? What the fuck is he trying to play at?"
Caleb didn't seem to be as bothered as I am, though he definitely had his differences with Adam Stone; he had never quite gone after Caleb the way he had me. Of course, Caleb had never owed him a few million dollars, either.
"I don't know, man. When we talked, he seemed different," he ponders, almost as if describing a scene he had not even been a part of. "It almost felt as if he were going away, like he was trying to say goodbye." I couldn't claim to know Adam as well as Caleb does, or did, so I really didn't know how I should respond; fortunately, Caleb beat me to the bunch.
"Look at it this way, man," he interjects, before my silence became awkward, "you're a millionaire again. You got all this money, and you can do whatever the fuck you want! You could open Midas Touch Productions again; you could throw it all hookers on the Strip. Shit, think of all the blow you could buy with three-million dollars!"
"Three, and a half-million," I snap back, with a smirk.
"Whatever, dick." Caleb smirks, too. "The point is, you've got this money now. Fuck Stone, fuck all, man. It's yours now, just like this gym is mine! If Adam Stone has some ulterior motive, I couldn't tell you what it is. All I know for sure is, we have this now. The money, the gym, all of it...I got mine, bro, and you got yours. Don't look that fuckin' horse in the mouth!"
I sigh; there's not a lot I can really do, I guess. Adam Stone disappeared yet again, and Caleb just doesn't seem to know what is going on. I get up from the couch we had both found our way to, and I pull out my phone.
"I guess you're right, man." I dial Johnny, allowing to ring out about five times before giving up. That fucker never answers his cell. "I think I'm gonna check on the bar, though. The old bastard probably fell asleep again!"
"For sure," he replies, but quickly adds on, "but about this tournament..."
I laugh. "You know it will be us in the finals, man. It has to be."
"And when it comes down to it..."
"May the best man win," I conclude with a smirk, as I extend a hand to my good friend.
"I plan on it!" He shakes my hand, returning the gesture of respect. I nod, and smile, as I head out on my way home to Johnny's bar.
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Post by Roxxie Roberts on May 19, 2014 10:48:00 GMT -5
December, 2008.
Hand held in mine, his caramel colored skin wore pale in my palm. Feeling his weak pulse throbbing against the tips of my fingers. His hair grown in a tussled mess, clear tubes run through his air ways, leading to a pressurized oxygen machine. Laying under the crisp clean white covers, his body unmoving… fragile and small.
“Oh Cameron…” I breathe, through deep small sobs, attempting to hold it together.
Watching his chest fill with air and release, in a sickening mechanical way. Leaning forward in my chair, against the edge, I bring my lips to brush his hand in mine, and kiss it gently. The pain is impossible to bear, my heart constricting in my chest as I watch my whole life clinging to survive. Eyes burning with tears, redness overtaking them.
Hardening my grip to his small hand, I drape my right arm softly around his body and give in more feeling to the sobs, spilling all emotion in to them, feeling hopeless, unable to protect him. Feeling his warmth against my upper body, soaking the sheets beneath me.
“Rox…” came a low familiar voice from the doorway.
Every muscle in my body tightens, as if on guard… but my heart, my mind wrapped in the sorrows of the situation in front of me… my son. He approaches me coming up to the back of my chair and slides his hand over my back, sympathetically.
The weight of the world is pulling me down, crashing over me, attempting to drown me. The man who I thought loved me… and our son, hasn’t been here. Left us alone in the dark, growing with sadness and…
Afraid.
Needing comfort, the need to be held overwhelming me, I sprang from my seat and turned falling in to the arms of my enemy. His cold heart beating in his chest, rapidly against the side of my face… the fierceness of his arms surprisingly providing warmth around me as he pulled me in close to him… resting his head atop mine.
“Do you really think Joey would be good for you now…” he mutters to me, kicking me while I am already down.
His words stabbed like a knife in my heart, as if the pain couldn’t grow worse. I pulled away from him, my moment of fake comfort taken away from me. Walking away from him, across the hospital room towards the only window overlooking a plain field of yellow grass… the breeze in the tree’s causing them to thrash about.
“Why must you hurt me so…” I asked, weak with my words.
“I only meant that he walked away from you, from this… without a care in his heart about Cameron, his well-being. Strapped to a hospital bed with needles embedded in his skin and air tubes through his nose and mouth, he couldn’t even muster the courage to be here… be by your side, his side.”
“YOU MADE HIM!” I raised my voice at him, body tensing as I turn myself to face him, my mocha colored skin turning a flashing red. “You made me choose between my son and the love of my life…”
“Only because I knew he would do this Rox,” he pauses, pleading with me, taking my hands in to his and stroking the back of them with his thumbs. “He never cared… he was withering away from the closing of EWF… and he was taking your heart with him… your feelings for him were starting to wither away… your feelings for me…”
“Stop…” I say softly, closing my eyes, I never admitted it, I couldn’t. My disconnect with Joey was regretfully true… and painful, but my feelings for…him.
“Admit it Roxxie… please… admit it…” he begged me… getting down on one knee before me, holding my hands in his.
“If you loved me, you would have let me go… you would have let us go.” I said, avoiding his plea for me to admit what I was scared to do. Taking my hands closer to his, kissing each one.
“Cameron may have been adopted by him… but he is my son also. How could I give up on my son… to give away my rights as a father?”
“Now that’s not what I mean… not one bit…” feeling guilty now for my statement… how could I feel guilt, when a week ago I had to leave Joey or risk never seeing Cameron again in his desperate plight to fix his life.
He pulled himself to a stand, looking down upon me as I look towards Cameron laying lifeless in the hospital bed. “Please…” he begged, sliding his left hand from mine up my arm slowly, sending Goosebumps down my neck and back. His fingers met my jaw line and traced my chin, edging my chin over to face him. His eyes burrowed deep in to mine, looking in to my soul as if he already got my answer.
His right arm encircles my lower back and pulls my body in to his, feeling each other’s warm breath. As he licks his lips, a sincere knowing smile comes upon his face, after feeling my heart beat wildly against his chest. Lowering his face, finger still on my chin, his lips meet mine in a warm rush before I push him back and turn away.
“That’s enough…” I cry out, unable to believe myself… letting my guard down. I couldn’t forgive this man for what he did to me… what he did to our son, even if he had plausible reason. It was still cruel.
“I want to hear you say it…” he says to me, taking a couple steps closer to me… waiting patiently for me to melt down… my confused and troubled heart… torn between what to believe and the deep pain of my sons sickness.
“Please…” I begged, feeling cornered within myself.
“You can’t hide it Rox, you can’t keep it inside you forever…” coming up behind me, touching my hip gently with his left hand.
“I LOVE YOU TOO, OKAY? You happy now Adam… you got what you wanted … this isn’t the time nor…”
Grabbing my shoulder with his right hand, my sentence was cut off and he appeared to have no care about our son struggling next to us. He spins me around and pulls me in again, pressing his lips passionately to mine with a kiss… returning it with toxic love and loathing. His fingers running through my air. What was I doing? This couldn’t be happening…
“I am now...” he admits, parting his lips from mine and looking down into my confused eyes. I gave in to his madness, just allowed him to make me his… despite my life falling apart around me, my son deathly ill.
I gave in to the monster.
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Brushing my fingers along the darkened parchment, heart clenching in remembrance of that time… the time where I had felt all hope had failed me… and there were truly no more good souls that had walked the earth. That day was my last day of bravery… because shy of three weeks after that diary entry I had went in to labor… and all life had left my body… I blackened, hardened… and one would say I was struck with death.
Elza had died.
Or at least, that is what I was told to believe as the evil himself had lied about Joey’s death… and then my daughters. Forging away my parental rights to adoption… while I mourned the loss of my daughter… my bravery had vanished, and took away any faith in leaving the monster I had once loved. I cowered in to a bottomless pit of darkness and I would have never climbed out… I would never have left…
Death himself slowly sucked away my soul.
He still follows me here… it had taken him longer than I had expected… to make his journey to Pro Wrestling X…. in the form of Caleb Houston, “The Golden Standard”, and JT Midas, “The Outlaw Star.”
I knew I could never escape his torment, his perpetual blackness. However, there is one thing different this time… I am not longer a girl in need of ‘convincing.’ Roxxie Roberts… “Miss America,” had grown in to a “Natural,” born killer. With Joey Harris by my side… and a changed woman in my heart… he wasn’t going to weasel his way in to my life and cause any more pain. He can certainly try…
He will, undoubtedly lose.
Putting his faith in to the two most toxic wrestlers in the industry… who also follow the path of darkness, burying themselves in to a black cave and withering away loveless and lonely over time. I had watched Caleb Houston for weeks dig his talons in to the heart of my aunt Kaiyela Elizabeth… I watched as they had formed a bond thicker than blood. I had once wondered to myself, if I ever had that kind of connection with Joey Harris myself.
They were blind.
They held their hearts in their safety box, and threw away the key… They penetrated each other’s protective wall week in and week out, hoping one would unveil the other… an act of love, devotion… and when Kaiyela finally threw herself to the lion… he hunted her down with the words of… “My career is more important than an interest,” and chewed her up for the falcons to pick at. Kaiyela was never the same… burying herself deeper in to the madness… the madness of a Divera. Sharing the same father as my mother, they were both vulnerable to the addiction of crazy and viciously vindictive.
Then she took fate’s advice one more time, to get dealt the hand of Krazy Konway… a man that could truly end careers. She did it all for him, Caleb Houston, in the name of love. Bringing herself out of Elite Wrestling Academy with a certain doom and landed herself in the hospital where he never paid his respects… never showed her what she deserved long before she dove in to her own suicide attempt. Being kept in a sleeping state, because of her neurotic behaviors, we had all believed she would be best healed if she stayed unconscious.
Her body healed, but her heart was never the same again.
Diving in to addictions of crack cocaine, alcohol consumptions… she winded herself down to skin and bones to never step in to the ring again… flashes of such events brought a ravenous person to thrash about in her sleep, and destroy a whole bedroom. Digging deeper in to herself… she had finally been carried away to rehab… cleaned herself up for the better of her family… her very little family, who meant the world to her… she bettered herself… kept a promise to be the person that little one had always hoped for her to be.
Then it happened.
She died, worse than I ever had.
Falling in to the deep abyss, and never coming back… Kaiyela Elizabeth… the once fun loving individual… became Kaelyn Divera… the unstoppable evil. Turns out she inherited her father’s gene more-so then my mother ever had and turned in to a destructive machine. Obliterating everything in her path, with a mass amount of alcohol bottles, burning lines once more, and slipping in to death’s door every night to be re-born in to the evil she had become, every day slipping more in to her demons and to never return.
Holding a deep dark secret.
Just like JT Midas… “The Outlaw Star,” breaking one rule at a time. A young man, with many ambitions. A young man who grew with success after the Elite Wrestling Academy… enhancing his skills and striving to correct his faults, his weakness that had brought him down under. He is much like my sister, and that what is left of Caleb Houston… the three of them had all been addicted to torment.
Midas had many aspirations… wanting to change the world, one law at a time… making it easier for those who have been rules underdogs to shine bright like the stars above rather than the lights of the city. He strove to make a difference in the life of a wrestler, and borrowed his way into being the owner of his own lot of crazy, Midas Productions.
Putting his faith, and heart in to monster… the same monster who brought me death… the monster who lives on in his disciples… his pupils… JT Midas being one of them. He may have vanished from the picture, providing a mass supply of comfort… but the memories still shed some weight in their absence… and cast a shadow over them.
Raining in debt… and reigning over a dead kingdom… the boy with aspirations, dreams, and ambitions had grown to slumber in his quiet chambers. Awaiting for the days to come where he no longer has to sleep next to a boiler, and ravish restaurants for food like a scavenging raccoon.
Midas has obviously sent a golden ticket to the chocolate factory of dreams… but that is all it will ever be… a dream, because a kind gesture from a monster is never free, and is never truly yours. Freedom is something advertised but certainly not practiced… If Midas wants his freedom from the darkness, he needs to take it like I once did… leaving, forever running, with my son. I searched for a solution to the madness, the thing that would bring me courage and hope amidst the apocalypse and to my astonishment… I found my safe haven… pulled myself out from the deep and brushed off the shame.
Ambitions run deep, aspirations never disappear… they only fade. My respect for him… wishes he will soon wake from his slumber… walk out of his chambers… and rule his kingdom once more, bring faith hope and life back to his people. I will start this process…
By knocking some sense in to him.
“Everything okay Rox?” called a voice from the doorway. Steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand, he approaches me, in his jeans, topless once again. Placing the cup on the desk in front of me, he slides his hands down my arms and wraps them around my sides and interlocks his fingers across my midsection. Pressing his lips gently to my cheek with a kiss.
“We need to find her Joey,” I said to him, looking behind the window to the sun coming above the horizon, a small tear slides down my cheek. “I promised her I would save her from the darkness, let’s save our girl Joey,” I pleaded turning around, placing my hands in his, “Let’s bring Elza home…”
He looked in to my eyes, swollen with lack of sleep, puffy with intoxication from the night before. Not needing to say a word, he looks in to my eyes and nods. His eyes spoke it all for him… alcohol could only do so much for either one of us. Pulling me in to his arms, embracing me with a warm hug… today would be the first day among many days of a journey that brings us heart ache, and joy!
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