March 28, 2018
If there was one thing JC hated, it was Twitter.
Not to the extent of Trent Steel, of course. Trent rarely even carried a cell phone unless he grabbed it instead of his smokes. But JC did hate it. He originally got an account because he was contractually obligated. Now he found himself tweeting regularly, giving his mundane thoughts to send out there with the rest of the Carnage roster. He supposed it could be worse. He could have people who want him to be President because of what he tweets.
He also found it very sad for one to be tweeting at random intervals at a time, as though they had no life. Which is why he hated himself a little as he sat on the floor of his basement gym, legs crossed in the "Indian style" position and typing away at Bryan Ford, Lucy Wylde and anyone else that he could think of. He wasn't tweeting because he had anything relevant to say to either, not Ford anyway, but because he was bored.
And lonely.
The house was very quiet and very empty after Stacy had left. It had been nearly a month and outside of allowing him to see his daughter, he hadn't had the chance to talk to her. The thing was, Stacy wasn't angry with him. She wasn't hateful. She clearly still loved him. It was like she said when she left. She wanted him to get better help. Seek a new doctor, get new medication, get his condition under control. It was like she said, she wanted to come back. She just wanted him to get himself taken care of before she would.
His psychiatrist had made changes to his medication, and he even went for a second opinion. But it took time for the medicine to work and when he thought about his issues he grew impatient. He was becoming more and more prone to being a victim of those "psychotic features" than he wanted to admit. Hallucinations, outbursts of anger and contemplating crimes against those deemed innocent in the eyes of the law. No one with a brain would think Lucy Wylde's father was innocent of anything, but he had no proof.
All JC wanted was to put the fear of God...or better yet, the fear of JC, into that man. He could. If anyone could, it was him. He was an intimidating figure and had a short fuse of a temper. But Lucy asked him to stand down and like a good friend, he did. He embraced her in support, as friends do. But inside the darker recesses of his mind, he hated her a little for denying him his violence.
Lucy.
He mulled her name over absentmindedly in his head. He really needed to have a conversation with her. Because every time he thought about losing Stacy, losing Lizzy, it all came back to her. His mind was full of dark thoughts and Lucy was becoming a catalyst for some of them. It was not something he took pleasure in, but he couldn't separate her from them. If his dark passenger still had a voice, it would clarify things for him. The voice he heard made him do terrible things, but it also kept things relatively simple. He missed that simplicity, if nothing else.
Having friends and loved ones with their own set of morals, wants, needs and feelings complicated things. There were parts, however small, that wished to resort to his baser instincts. But then he'd lose everyone he cared about, and he didn't want that. That's why he got help. Because while JC didn't fear much in this world, he feared being alone. Being alone meant that he would devolve. Being alone meant he would become that nightmarish representation of his psychosis he sometimes saw in his dreams.
JC poked at the plastered hole in the wall that had yet to be repainted, sticking out like a jaundiced sore thumb compared to the rest of it. It mocked him, because it reminded him of the fight he had with his wife. It reminded him of how he scared his daughter and caused her to cry. It made him hate himself. He almost wanted to put his fist through it again.
Instead his mind again turned back to his friend, and at that moment a message appeared on his Twitter app. He saw that she tagged him and felt now was the best time to inform her of what was going on. He hadn't told anyone. He was embarrassed, more than anything else.
"While I have your attention, you should come by the house at some point. We need to have a conversation."
"Oh fuck... this doesn't sound good. 😶 I can pop by anytime really... just let me know when is good for you."
"The sooner the better."
"Fine... I'll be down later this afternoon."
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Joe did what he normally did when he was waiting for someone to arrive...he sat on the porch. He had nothing better to do so he fumbled his phone in between his hands, growing antsy. He had no idea what he was going to say to Lucy. He had a few things he wanted to say, but those were inappropriate. All he knew right now is that he had to talk to somebody. He would try not to let his emotions get in the way, but he hadn't been doing a good job of that lately.
Lucy pulled up in her SUV, looking both equal parts alluring and haunted. She had that look on her face a lot, but he supposed he couldn't blame her given all she was going through. He couldn't blame her for the look on her face, but other things...
He dismissed the thought and stood up, giving her a halfhearted wave as she parked and exited the driver's side of her vehicle.
"Hey Joe, what's so important I had to drive down here?"
"I'd rather not talk about it out here, if it's all the same to you."
"What, did someone die?"
It was an obvious joke to break the tension, but neither of them laughed. It was a hollow attempt at humor from Lucy, who was being emotionally tortured, and Joe was not in the mood for comedy.
"Just...follow me inside, please."
He started up the porch and pulled open his door, but only stepped forward when he heard her heeled boots clicking up behind him. He knew exactly where he wanted to lead her and exactly what he wanted to show her. The rest she would figure out on her own. The silence was deafening and the absence of two people blatantly obvious.
They moved through his living room and as they approached the hallway, he stopped. He turned around and looked at her, stone-faced.
"Should we...sit down?"
"Not yet."
"Okay, this is all a little weird to me. Why are we in your hallway. And..."
She was starting to piece it together. At least the basic premise of why she was here. She didn't have the whole picture yet but Joe could tell she was processing. Lucy was always clever, but she let herself get controlled by her emotions in the same way Joe was controlled by his bipolar disorder. Perhaps that was why they were friends. Perhaps Joe only attracted damaged people.
A thought formed that maybe Stacy was right to get the baby away from him, but he quickly shoved it back into his mental recesses.
"Where's Stacy? Or Lizzy? Are they having a girls' day or something?"
"That's why I called."
"Wait..."
Lucy walked past Joe and he let her do it. It was only a few steps forward to the baby's room, where items were still spread on the floor from when Stacy hastily packed a few weeks ago. Joe hadn't touched it. He needed a reminder of what he lost so he could keep from losing himself.
"Joe, what happened? Are they okay?"
"They're fine. They just...Stacy left me."
"She what? Why? When?"
"A few weeks ago. Not long after..."
He stopped. He was trying very hard not to blame her. That's not why she was here. He wanted support. As much as parts of him did blame her, however irrationally, he was not going to lose someone else due to his issues.
"After what?"
"Nothing. She just took off. She didn't feel like she or the baby were safe around me."
Lucy let out a dry, humorless laugh, meant to evoke her shock more than anything else.
"Safe? Is she crazy? You'd never hurt them. You'd hurt yourself before you'd lay a hand on them."
"I thought so too. But we had a fight, things got out of hand and then..."
He gestured to the incriminating wall. That damned hole. It mocked him yet again, as his own guilt and thoughts did. Lucy followed where his hand moved and laid eyes on it. It wasn't hard to miss. He hadn't plastered anything before and it was an eyesore. She finished his sentence, figuring out what happened. She was always smart.
"You punched the wall."
"Yup."
"But she had to know that...I mean, people get angry. That doesn't mean you would have hurt her."
"By itself, no."
"Joe, what are you not telling me?"
"Stacy was upset because of a certain trip I went on to your father's house."
A hand went over Lucy's mouth as she didn't need any more explanation. He could see it in her eyes. She knew that Stacy found out Joe intended to hurt her father and she knew that it was due to their conversation. Joe imagined that she was likely replaying the day's events in her mind to see if she was careful about not disclosing the secret or not. It was at that moment that Joe really did want to blame her. After all, wasn't it her suspicious behavior that got the truth out sooner than he wanted? Wasn't she...
"Joe, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah."
"No, I mean it. I mean, I came over here all nervous because I thought he saw us, I wasn't thinking straight and..."
It was too late for that, he thought. His anger was bubbling up again. As she put the pieces together, he began dismissing the reasons he really wanted her at his house. All he could think about was how Stacy caught wind of what was going on and he had to tell her before he was ready. How it came at the worst possible time. How he let his anger get the better of him. And how it would wouldn't have happened if...
"...if you had just called. Just texted. Didn't come barreling in here looking like a criminal..."
"Joe, I know...listen, I'll go talk to her. I'll explain the situation."
"She knows the situation."
"You TOLD her?"
Was that an indignant tone? From Lucy Wylde, queen of the fuck-ups? Did she earn that tone? He thought not.
"Lucy, in case you haven't noticed, your fucking dirty laundry is all over the tabloids! TMZ picked it up! Everyone knows what your pissant father is saying about you. So yes, my wife knew. You don't have to tell her, because she already knows. And I don't want you talk to her anyway. I'd rather you not fuck something else up for me."
That last part is something he'd regret later, and he knew it once he saw the words cutting into her like a knife. He saw her eyes becoming glassy. At the moment, he didn't care. At the moment, he wanted to make it worse.
"I...I don't know what to say."
"I don't know either, Luce. But because you came over here and tipped her off, now she thinks I'm a fucking lunatic and I've lost my kid. MY DAUGHTER, LUCY."
His hand lunged out and hit the wall again, but thankfully it was open-palm so it resulted in a slap echoing through the hall. It was silent now. Lucy stood there silently weeping, but defiant. There was no way to be sure if she was safe from harm like his immediate family was, but she certainly wasn't scared of him. Although his strike was more anger than intimidation, she wasn't showing any signs that it bothered her. It was the words that still stung.
"I had a lot of time to think, Lucy. I've been here by myself for almost a month. And I've realized...you're toxic."
More words he'd hate himself for later. In the moment, it felt good to say.
"You hurt everyone you come into contact with. You may not be guilty of what your father says, but you're not good for anyone. I thought maybe I was immune, because I'm pretty fucked up myself, but apparently not. Congratulations, because now my marriage is just as shitty as your last one."
She lowered her head for a moment and he could see the tears. It hurt him inside. He hated every single part of himself for letting the anger get the best of him. This was one of his best friends, who supported him in his quest to be better when no one else would. And he only wanted her over here for more of that support. But now, he ruined it. He was emotionally abusing her the same way her father was. Perhaps, in a sick and twisted way, he was doing it because her father was. Perhaps he was simply telling her what he thought of himself. He momentarily lifted his hand to comfort her, perhaps apologize. "Hey Lucy, listen, I'm just really fucked up in the head right now." But his hand stalled in mid-raise when she raised her hand in balled fist...
And promptly decked him in the jaw. The force was so powerful, so unexpected that JC was instantly crashing shoulder first into the other side of the hallway, then sliding down out of shock and dizziness. He may outweigh her by a great deal, but Lucy's strikes were precise and painful. Later, he would note that the bruise on his face was about in the same spot as the one she left when they first fought early in his OWF return.
She stared at him with rage, tears streaming down her face.
"Well you're fucking welcome, Joe because I never fucking asked you to do any of the stupid shit you did, I never fucking wanted you to put any of my stupid shit above your family.. you did that all on your fucking own."
Lucy didn't wait for a reply. She turned around and stormed out, leaving Joe clutching his swelling jaw.
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I have to respect what Bryan Ford is trying to accomplish here, even if it's the wrong time to do it.
I should give you notice, Bry. I didn't offer that open challenge for competition. I wanted to hurt someone. I'm in a bad way for reasons I'd rather not get into, and I wanted to take it out on someone. I certainly didn't want it to be you. You're a good kid, just trying to make a name for himself. For some reason you respect and I guess look up to me.
You probably haven't seen enough of my OWF work.
I'm not someone to be admired. I may be impressive in the ring, but as a person I'm not good for anyone. I'm toxic. I've hurt everyone I come into contact with. Don't believe me? Ask my own brother. Ask Trent Steel. Ask Will Prydor. And those are just friends and family. It gets much worse when you start to look at people I actually hate.
The truth is Bryan, I want to hurt you too. Perhaps I won't. Perhaps I'll simply do just enough to beat you and save my aggression for someone who deserves it. You certainly don't. You're just a kid who wants to compete with the best. I respect that. But it doesn't change who I am, and it doesn't change what I want.
I want someone to pay for the injustices in my life. Whether that's Paragon taking what's mine, whether that's my own personal issues...someone has to pay. And you're the only one in front of me. It's a shame, and it's terrible. You are, after all, a rising talent. You're one big win away from really making your mark on this business.
That win won't be over me, kid. You're going to be lucky to survive our encounter, let alone walk out with your head held high.
At the end of the day, maybe you'll learn a valuable lesson here. Don't poke an angry bear if you don't want to get mauled. The next time someone like myself offers an open challenge, maybe show some humility and let the other guy get it.
I would have been happy to hurt Eli Goode. I'm 100% positive Amy Jo Smyth could have taken the worst from me and keep on ticking.
You? You're just a kid.
And you have no idea what's coming.
