May 3, 2016
She watched Joe walk away as from her room inside of the Jersey City Drug Treatment Center. This little room is where she would be spending her next ninety days. The general consensus among her therapists, based on what that asshole Mark told her, was that while she could stay as long as she wanted, a successful program would last ninety days.
That meant she wouldn't be home until August.
She was aware of how much the residential program would cost and felt bad that Joe was using his OWF paychecks to cover what insurance wouldn't. She knew he didn't mind, but she also knew that they could use that money for other things if it wasn't for her mistakes. She knew why he did it. Most of it was truly because he loved her. She knew that. But she also knew that part of it was because he continued to feel guilty.
The truth was he was to blame, but she was just as guilty. She couldn't understand why she couldn't make him see that, but guilt was a strange thing. It doesn't actually open up the doors to rational thought.
"So, are you ready to go over details of the program?"
Mark stood behind her with the clipboard in his hand. As it turned out, he wasn't demoted to clerical. He really was doing it because it was a slow day.
"I guess I am. I don't have anywhere to be."
She finally sat down on the plain white sheet fitting a hard twin mattress. The walls were off-white, but she could make out little hooks for photos. Other people had lived here, possibly longer than she intended to.
"I guess first step is this detoxification I've been hearing so much about."
"Actually I have good news on that front. According to your records, you hadn't been using prior to your one relapse. There will still be withdrawal symptoms because of your prior addiction, but they won't be as bad as the last time."
"Every cloud has a silver lining."
"Exactly! Glad to see you're more upbeat this time."
She was being sarcastic. He was never able to understand that about her. She laid down on the single white pillow and sighed.
"Whatever symptoms you do have, we'll help you cope with them. They could range from nausea to suicidal thoughts and everything in between. But once again, they'll be minor, especially since you haven't had any pills since your relapse."
"I haven't felt like killing myself, no. I wasn't trying the last time."
"You'll be able to tell me that in therapy."
Yes, therapy. That was the one aspect of the outpatient program that would carry over to the inpatient. A return to sitting in a group and talking about their feelings. She felt it was a complete waste of time for her the last time and didn't really know how much it would help now. The one person she thought could help wasn't going to be allowed inside except during select hours.
"No offense, Mark...but I don't know if group therapy is going to do much for me."
"Oh you're not doing the group therapy. You're doing one on one counseling sessions with me and then our on-staff doctor."
She couldn't decide if it was withdrawal or the fact that she had to spend ninety days talking to someone who annoyed her, but she suddenly wanted a pill. What was she even doing here? It seemed like a such a good idea when she was recovering from a near-death experience. Now she was wondering what the licensed professionals could do that she couldn't with hard work and perseverance. She assumed that's what got her into this situation to begin with.
"Okay, so counseling, living here to prevent me from relapsing and being bored into submission. Got it."
"Stacy, you know this isn't going to work if you don't take it seriously."
She sat up and stared at the therapist. He was an asshole and they'd never get along, but she guessed he wouldn't have his job for this long if he didn't care a little about what happened to his patients. No one could be that cold and stay in this line of work for long without being discovered. Five years must have brought her some added maturity.
He was right. Her attitude in the past probably prevented the old methods from working.
"Mark, I take it seriously. But I just recovered from an overdose, I said goodbye to my husband and I'm very tired."
She also was on the verge of crying. It had been a very emotional day, especially since she gave Joe an ultimatum. He stopped hurting people or she'd leave him. He had until August. Maybe with a deadline he could get it done.
She felt the tears behind her eyes and mentally willed herself to keep them there. She was not going to cry in front of a man who might as well be a stranger. She was stronger than that.
"So is there any way I could just lay here for a bit and then come find you when I'm ready to go over the rest?"
Mark looked at her with concern. She liked him a little more for that.
"Sure. There's only one thing I need to ask you, and it's about that device you have on the nightstand."
She looked over and saw her phone laying there. It was turned off so she didn't know why he was focused on it.
"What about it?"
"You're not allowed to have it while you stay here. Facility policy. We'll have to keep it in the office with other personal belongings until you are done."
"But I have family that's going to wonder where I am!"
Mark nodded, then leaned back in the hallway to take a look around.
"Okay. I know that we've butted heads in the past but I really want this to work for you. As a show of good faith, I'm going to let you call your family to let them know what's going on. I'll stay out here and you just knock when you're done."
"Thanks, Mark."
He stepped out and closed the door. She figured it wasn't a huge gesture, as it wouldn't help her progress if she was worried over family not knowing where she was. She appreciated it nonetheless.
The phone buzzed on as she left it on vibrate. There was one person she had been avoiding talking to, but it was the same person she needed to call now because she could tell everyone else. She swiped down her contacts list until she landed on Michelle. Her big sister would not be happy with this development at all. She definitely wouldn't be happy that she didn't tell her.
She heard the phone go directly to voicemail. After the tone, she tried to speak but couldn't think of the right words. The phone beeped again and she realized she missed her chance. She cursed under her breath and called again. She forced the words to come out.
"Hey sis. I know you're out in Indiana visiting Charlie and mom. I don't want you to cut that trip short, but I think I need to tell you something. I relapsed again. It was really bad. I had to go to the hospital. Joe can fill you in on the details. But I'm at an inpatient rehab now. I can have visitors, so whenever you get back, feel free to check in. And don't blame Joe for you not knowing. That was my decision. I love you."
She pressed the "end" button and felt a warm wetness fall down her cheek. The realization that she would basically be alone for a while was finally catching up to her. She wiped away the single tear and got up to give her therapist the last bit of personal freedom she would have for the next three months.
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May 16, 2016
It never occurred to him how quiet his house was when Stacy wasn't in it. It had been two weeks since she began her inpatient rehab stay. He was lucky that he had been away for most of that time. He flew to Alaska for Addiction to beat Kid Dynamo. Then he went to Baltimore for a Carnage Wrestling show and he planned to fly back out to Alaska for another Addiction tomorrow. Since the CW show was only three hours away, he thought he might sleep in his own bed just once this month.
He also thought he might put his frequent flyer miles to use when Stacy got out. Maybe they could go on vacation somewhere. Summer was coming and he couldn't stand the heat of the Garden State.
He pulled down the blinds on the front window to prevent the sun from shining in. He wasn't much for architecture but he didn't like the new windows they had put in. He didn't like any of the new furniture. As the blinds lowered, he noticed a car pulled up behind his in the driveway, essentially trapping it since he preferred large Dodge Ram-type trucks. He recognized the car and let out an audible groan that echoed against the walls of his mostly empty abode.
"I knew I forgot something."
He finished what he was doing and then opened the door to greet his guest.
"Hello, Michelle. What a pleasant surprise."
It wasn't. One thing JC learned early into his relationship with Stacy, back when she was Stacy Sanders, was that he would never get along with her sister. It wasn't the fact that she was overprotective. It wasn't even the fact that she was gay, although he knew not everyone in New Jersey, particularly Hudson County, was as open-minded as its blue-state status would have someone believe.
Michelle was one of those once-in-a-lifetime kind of people that you know you won't like from the second you talk to them. Their personalities were just enough that they would always clash. The old phrase "like oil and water" came to mind. They could be cordial at family gatherings and they tried not to bicker for Stacy's sake. However, it was clear to anyone with eyes that there was just something that didn't click between them. It was strange because the rest of her family generally liked him, or at least didn't wear their disdain on their sleeve like Michelle did.
Whatever the reason, this wasn't going to be a cordial social call and he knew why.
"Why the fuck am I just hearing about what happened to Stacy now?
"Nice to see you too, Michelle. How's the wife? Please come inside and chat."
While his voice was monotone and obviously sarcastic, she stalked past him anyway and let her purse drop to the brand new wooden coffee table, meant to replace the glass one Sarin smashed with a sledgehammer last month.
"I didn't get an answer."
"That's because I didn't give one."
"Don't start your antagonistic bullshit with me, Joe. We're both way too old for childish bickering today."
Michelle was closer to his age than Stacy was, only a year older. She was always a protective big sister to Stacy and was cautious when her then-31-year-old sister began dating someone four years older than her. JC always found that silly, since they were all in their thirties at the time.
"Are you even listening to me?"
He snapped himself out of his rambling stream of consciousness and focused on Michelle, now making herself comfortable on the couch.
"I heard you. I think you already know why you weren't told."
"You know, I know you love her, but there is such a thing as personal responsibility. If she didn't want you to tell me, you should have told her you wouldn't and did it anyway."
"Sure, because who cares about having trust in a marriage?"
He was trying his best to keep calm. He never got to the point of blinding rage with Michelle, but he never felt particularly happy after talking with her. He grabbed a chair and sat down, thinking that this may be a long talk.
"She asked me not to tell you. She's embarrassed. I'm sure that once she got clean for good she would tell you herself."
"Oh she told me alright. Over a fucking voicemail. I was visiting our mom. She's living with our brother Charlie right now in Indiana."
She stood up and began to pace a little. She was restless and very upset. He understood that, but he didn't understand why she was taking it out on him. He guessed it was because he was an easy target.
"I don't care if she's embarrassed. Why is she back in rehab? I thought you got rid of all the pills?"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He was trying his best to keep calm.
"She had some hidden. Or she got some when I wasn't around. I have no idea. I've searched the house top to bottom. There's nothing left."
"Where were you?"
"I was at work. Actually, I was flying back from work when it happened. I got back just in time to..."
He swallowed his guilt so he could keep talking.
"...save her. But I shouldn't have to watch her 24/7. She's a grown woman, Michelle. I actually trust her."
"And look how well that turned out."
JC was starting to get angry now. He blamed himself for what happened to Stacy, but it wasn't because she was a fragile flower that had to be watched every single second. He didn't like this particular accusation.
"Just because you and your family thought she would never overcome her demons doesn't mean I feel that way. This was a one-time thing and she's getting clean for good."
"Do you really believe that?"
He answered without hesitation.
"I do. She's the strongest woman I know."
She smiled at this. He knew all of her criticism came from a place of love, but she still never seemed to give Stacy a chance to be her own person. She was very, very protective.
"I'm glad you have faith in her, but this is the fourth time she's done this. What's going to happen the next time she feels like having another 'one-time thing?' She only took the painkillers originally due to stress. So what caused her to flip out this time?"
Michelle stood up and grabbed her purse, clearly done with the conversation. JC was too, given the way her train of thought was going. She walked to the door and grabbed the handle. From the look on her face, he had a feeling she was going to leave with the last word.
"I have a feeling I know what caused the relapse, Joe. It's nice to know I was right about you. You were never good for her. What I'm seeing on TV just proves it. Maybe when she gets clean she'll finally see it."
She opened the door and turned back to face him. The two never got along, but this was different. This was an assault on his psyche. Cordiality was out the window now. He tried to interrupt but she stopped him.
"Don't try to defend yourself. You can't defend what I've seen. You can't defend bringing your fights to this house. What if Stacy had been in here when that big motherfucker showed up? What if you didn't get here when you did after she overdosed?"
She was right. He knew it. He had this exact conversation with himself over and over again after he found her. He also knew he was trembling with rage and made no effort to hide it. He also knew that he would not act on it, no matter what the circumstances. He was better than attacking someone with no way to defend herself. He wouldn't do it. That doesn't mean he wasn't thinking about it.
"I'm visiting Stacy now. I'm going to tell her the same thing I'm telling you."
She took another step out and gave him one last glance.
"If you were smart, Joe, you'd go ahead and file for divorce. Get yourself out of her life before you get her killed. You're worse than the pills."
Michelle walked out and slammed the door behind her. JC stood dumbfounded.
For once in his life, he had no idea what to say.
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May 17, 2016
While JC boarded a flight to Anchorage, Stacy sat in her room tossing a red rubber ball at the wall and keeping count of each time she caught it. She could go into the common room and talk with her fellow addicts, but she found that extremely depressing. Some of them had some real sob stories to tell and were in a worse state than moderately successful Stacy Lee with her dependence on vicodin and oxycodone.
She knew that Joe wasn't going to be visiting her any time soon, but she hoped she could get a phone call from him later. He would have to go straight to Honolulu after Anchorage, but maybe after all of that she could get a visit. She wished she was in Honolulu right now.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
One of the building's staff opened the door and saw her laying on the bed, tossing the red ball in the air. She glanced over and saw it was one of the nurses. She smiled and went back to what she was doing.
"Bored?"
"As hell. Did I miss a counseling session or something?"
"Nope. You have a visitor."
She could count on one hand the number of people who knew she was in here and could visit her right now. Joe was out and her mother was half a country away. So that meant there were only two people who could be here right now and both were on the list.
"Alright, let's go. I lost count anyway."
She set the stress ball down and swung her legs around on the bed, putting her feet inside of two slippers. She could use her own shoes, there was no problem with that, but why give up comfort?
The two strolled to the visitor's area, and that's when she saw her sister. Michelle had a smile on her face but it was sad. She knew she failed her again. She failed her family yet again. She motioned to a table and they both sat down.
"I know."
"I don't think you do. I thought you were finally clean."
"I thought so too. But I had a moment of weakness. There are some people here who say you're never completely sober. It's a constant struggle. I'm lucky I had Joe or I probably would have slipped a lot sooner."
Michelle chuckled to herself. Stacy cocked an eyebrow, then pushed her plain blonde hair out of her face. It was getting longer than she wanted before but now it was ridiculous. She needed a haircut and she wanted some hair dye. But that would have to wait.
"Did I say something funny?"
"No, it's just that when I spoke to him yesterday, he said you were the strongest woman he knew. And now you're talking about weak you are."
"Well, he's been beating himself up a lot over what happened."
"He should."
Friendly conversation had officially ended. She felt a fight coming on. On the plus side, it would end quickly considering where they were.
"Don't start on him, Michelle. We've been happy this long and he's doing everything he can to make sure rehab works this time."
"Out of guilt, right? Have you seen the shit he's been pulling on TV?"
"Yes..."
"And you're okay with that?"
"Of course not! I've been trying to get him to stop! He says he's got these intense anger issues that he usually keeps bottled up."
Michelle, with a look of concern on her face, laid a hand on her sister's.
"Stacy, that's not someone you should be with. No matter how he acts now, there's going to come a time when you make him so angry that he does something violent to you."
She defended him without hesitation.
"Fuck you."
"What?"
"You heard me. Fuck you for even insinuating that the man I love would ever strike me. He treats me like a goddess. More than that, he treats me like an equal. That's why he says things about my strength. He sees it. I'm more likely to hurt him than he's ever going to hurt me."
That was a statement with truth in it, but it was also false. He was hurting her every time he let his rage out. But she wasn't going to give Michelle the satisfaction of admitting that to her.
"He knows what will happen if he doesn't stop by the time I'm out of here. We're going to help him. I've got plans in the works for that. You know what doesn't help? You coming in here and judging him. Worse than that, you're judging me for standing by his side. Michelle, I love you, but you can fuck off. I don't need your shit right now."
She was done with this tumultuous, if brief, conversation. She pushed her chair back and stood up, glaring at her older sibling one last time before she turned away to go back to her room.
"Stacy, wait!"
She stopped mid-stride and her shoulders slumped. She relented and turned back around. She was mad, but it was still family.
"I'm sorry. I didn't come here to upset you. If you say Joe is trying to change, then I'll take you at your word. Who knows? Maybe I'd do the same if I were in a similar situation."
"I know you're just trying to calm me down, but I'll accept your apology."
"It's not just that. I really wanted to just visit and see how you were. I already gave Joe an earful yesterday."
"Michelle..."
"I won't apologize for that. I'm doing what big sisters do. You know I'd kill him if he ever hurt you."
She looked at her 5'1 "big" sister, shorter than she was by a good four inches, and began to laugh. After a few awkward moments, Michelle began to giggle as well. Then, as quickly as it started, the argument dissipated even if the cause remained.
"I'd really like to see you try that, sis. He outweighs you by a whole person!"
"I don't care if he was seven feet, I'm spry and fast."
They laughed again and Stacy sat back down. This was more of what she needed than a fight. She knew the argument would happen again, but she'd rather it did in the future, when Joe proved her right and fixed himself. She would like nothing better than to tell her sister "I told you so." They gave each other a quick hug.
"Stacy, I'll tell you the same thing I told you at the wedding. If he makes you happy, then I'll try to keep my mouth shut. I know facilities like this aren't cheap, so clearly he does try to take care of you. I just don't want his issues to hurt you anymore."
"Neither does he. He would leave me before he hurt me. I'm sure of that. I'm so sure that it's what I fear the most from this whole situation. I'm going to get clean. But if he doesn't, we're done."
"Is that what you told him?"
"Yes. He needed an ultimatum but I really think he can do it."
She paused for a moment, mulling over her next words in her head. What she said next she whole-wholeheartedly believed, even if no one else he knew ever would.
"He can be the best man in the world if he wants to be. I just wish others could see him like I do."
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To say he'd been on edge for weeks was putting it mildly. While resolving his issues with Trent Steel, for now, helped a little, he still had a lot on his mind. His wife was in rehab, his sister-in-law despised the ground he walked on and his best friend recently attacked him for reasons he couldn't understand.
He knew why Trent did what he did. Trent explained himself clearly enough. He just didn't know why Trent Steel, of all people, would prevent violence from taking place. He knew he was trying to be a better person, but JC didn't see why he had to get roped into that. As far as he was concerned, Trent was meddling. He decided to let the incident go because his friend meant well, but he was still meddling.
He walked through the hallway of the Manoa Valley Inn, searching for his room, he thought about bringing Stacy here when she was done with rehab. It was the least he could do, after all. He only picked this place to stay because of its distance to the Stan Sheriff Center, but it had a quaint atmosphere she would love.
He felt completely out of place. He was from New Jersey. He thought this might as well be a foreign country.
He went inside his room and tossed his luggage on the bed. He didn't have anywhere to be. Trent mentioned something about getting drinks but he really didn't want to imbibe days before a big match. He wanted to be completely focused on the task at hand.
The task of destroying Shaun Stewart, the voice reminded him.
After his return to wrestling, his rage issues rose in prominence. In his five years of retirement he did a decent job of putting a lid on it. He wanted to avoid the hassle of legal problems and even when starting a business in New Jersey, people were decent enough to avoid a beating. He threw himself into training and building his relationship with Stacy so there was no need to get violent.
The fact that he routinely heard a voice inside his head telling him how to express his rage disturbed him. He knew hearing a voice was a symptom of schizophrenia and that's not something he wanted to deal with.
"That's because it's not a voice. It's just a manifestation of my inability to control my anger."
You keep telling yourself that, the voice argued.
He shook his head and opened up his laptop. He wondered if the wifi would let him browse the OWF Network so he could watch some Stewart matches. He wondered if the Manoa Valley Inn had a gym listed in its amenities. He wondered anything to get that dark passenger inside of him to shut up.
"Great, now I'm stealing stuff from Dexter."
He muttered to himself under his breath, relaxed against the headboard of the bed and turned on the Network. Thanks to the video on demand section, he was able to search for Stewart's name and the first match that popped up was a fatal four-way from December 11. Stewart vs Eva De La Cruz vs Adam Wilson vs someone named Eclipse. He smirked at seeing Wilson again.
This recent run wasn't the first time he showed a tendency to get violent, nor was the original OWF run. He once cut open his forearm out of pure fury for a promo after a loss to Matt "The Massicrist" Jackson. He said at the time he was proving a point but he couldn't remember what that point was now. That was when he was a beloved fan favorite. He always had anger issues and as he got older they got harder to control.
As he watched Stewart come out in his face paint, he thought about Sunday night. The two had been at each other's throats since the moment he arrived in the OWF. While he blamed Stewart on TV, he would have attacked anyone that night. If Trent wasn't involved, he might have joined The Violent Society and attacked Green and Dynamo. If the stable brawl didn't happen, he might have just attacked Moxie and Greg for the hell of it.
What's done was done, and now he had a chance to end things once and for all.
Yes. Let's end it.
"Shut up. You're not real. You're just my rage trying to get the better of me."
It wasn't wrong though. It was definitely time to end things. He had a special set of skills for doing it. Trent Steel wouldn't stop him this time. He wouldn't allow it. Beating Stewart was essential for him to control his rage. Stewart was the reason his rage had grown so much recently, wasn't it? It was this feud that caused him to snap and lay out Lucy Wylde in a brutal fashion. It was this battle that caused him to shatter the kneecaps of the giant Sarin.
Sure, there was Adam Wilson, but that was just a message. If he could just eliminate Stewart, he could eliminate the need to be so violent in the ring. Maybe then he could keep the one person that still loved him in this world.
He recognized how flawed his logic was, but he had no idea how else to help himself. He wouldn't give up wrestling. He wouldn't. He still had to prove to himself he still had it. He could control this. He could beat it. He wasn't just a shark looking for the bleeding meat in the water. That thought was all he had to hold onto. Take out Stewart and begin to gain self control. He was a man, a much better man, than his recent actions suggested.
But you're not. You need me. Don't fight me. Fight them.
He shut off the laptop in disgust and laid back on the pillow, closing his eyes to silence the growing darkness inside his head.
