The Things He Left Behind

April 7, 2019

Keeping rage in check is a very tricky process. Mental stability is a fragile thing, at least it always had been as far as JC was concerned. It was like trying to keep the wind out of your house when all you had blocking the window was a sheet and some thumbtacks. Sure, it would be good for a light breeze, but for the big storms, the really big gusts of wind, it was pretty much useless. The tacks would fly off the wall one by one and the sheet would get blown in, along with the wind you hadn't tried very hard to keep out.

It was a problem for JC lately because in his career, he had been dealing with Bryan Ford. Ford was some punk kid, barely worth his time, but he had been needling him on. The problem with Ford, is that even an irritant can turn your skin raw and painful after a while. It had hit that time with JC and he had one thought ever-present on his mind. He wanted to stand over Ford with Ford's blood dripping off of his fist. 

It was vivid and it was brutal. But it was a dream that sated him when the thoughts of anger got to be too much. 

It was also a thought that scared him a little, as thoughts of that kind of violence often did. He didn't wonder if he would ever be normal, but he did hope that he could at least approach the same neighborhood as normal. Being bipolar meant that there were a lot of highs and lows, and the psychotic features on top of it meant that his mood swings were likely to come in a variety of different ways, all new and unexpected. 

"Joe..?"

His eyes fluttered open and then darted around as he took in his surroundings. The thoughts of his struggles with illness and anger left him. He was riding in the passenger side of Lucy Wylde's SUV. She volunteered to drive him to his home so he could collect his personal belongings, since it was likely he wasn't coming back here to live. Another home he was giving up, but that's okay. 

Lucy had been a saint for putting up with so much from him in such a short amount of time. The fact that he left his wife for her, the fact that he was a broken man with a short fuse and a time bomb of mental illness. She didn't seem to mind any of it, or if she did, she kept it to herself. 

"I'm awake."

She smirked at him.

"I'm pretty sure I heard snoring."

"I'm awake now."

"Mmhm. We're coming up on your place soon. Thought you'd want to know."

The two had been living together for months now. It was kind of strange, moving straight past the dating stage of the relationship to living together. But he supposed they weren't getting any younger and it's not like he forced himself into her home. She invited him. He tried to leave a couple of times already, and she seemed to take offense so he dropped it. They lived together now. It was just a fact now. 

He didn't mind it. Actually, he liked it.

He got to see Lucy all the time. What was wrong with that?

They were pulling into the neighborhood where he lived and he was grateful that Stacy, his soon-to-be ex-wife, was not going to home today. He had been by to see her a few times since they'd split. To be more accurate, he'd been by to see his daughter. Things had become very awkward between them even though he didn't want it to be. But they both knew that the love had more or less died between them and there was nothing either or them could do about it. They still cared for each other but, just on a friendly basis. 

It still didn't make things awkward when he showed up to a home they used to share, visiting from his new home with his new girlfriend.

Life was complicated.

"So...do we have to search through the house or...?"

"I mean...she said she'd have most of it boxed up. I don't know. Talking to her is...difficult lately."

Lucy put a hand on his arm and gave him a wan smile. She didn't want to see Stacy there any more than he did. It's not as if either one of them had a problem with her. Before all this happen, she and Lucy got along well. But...the whole situation was uncomfortable and this was really the last step before he moved on. It was the funeral procession of his marriage. A burial of the old. 

The SUV pulled up to the curb, as it neither of them felt right pulling into the driveway, and Lucy killed the engine. It softly hummed as it shut down. 

"It feels weird knowing I won't ever live here again."

"Yeah."

"I mean, I bought this place."

"Well, you could..."

"No. I told her she could have it. What do I need with a whole house?"

They stepped out and the air, surprisingly brisk, hit him in the face and made his eyes water. As they walked up, he pulled a key out of his pocket and was a little shocked that it actually worked.

"Hasn't changed the locks yet."

"Did you expect her to?"
"I guess not."

"It's not like you're a threat to her, Joe. You're over-thinking it."

"Like you've never over-thought anything."

He glanced at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Shut up."

JC popped open the door and it slid open, and then he heard a 'thunk' noise, as he realized he hit a box. Just the edge of one, and hard enough to knock it over. He heard the box fall to its side and metal clink as it hit something else. When he opened the door, he saw why. Old championships, replicas of titles he won in the past, had been boxed up already. His trophy room downstairs, his entire life, was already packed away. 

Like it meant nothing.

He knelt and cradled the first belt in his hand, the NLW World title, and slipped it back in the box. It landed next to the OWF World title, which caught Lucy's eye and made her nudge him with her boot.

"You old softie."

"What's that?"

"You had it restored."

He lifted the belt out, which he previously smashed with a sledgehammer on television, and it was indeed back to its former glory. It was like he never broke it just to mess with Redemption's head. 

"Don't tell anyone."

Lucy mimicked locking her lips like a safe and he put the belt back where it belong. Seeing all of his things in a pile like this was downright depressing. She did the work for him. The only thing not packed was his ring and gym downstairs, which obviously would have to be taken apart later. Everything else was neatly put away in boxes so neatly and efficiently. Did she do it with any emotion? Did she care? Was it like any other chore? 

He actually felt his eyes water a bit, but blinked before he let the tears come. He closed the box of title belts and surveyed the scene.

"It looks like everything's here."

"You sure you don't want to take another look around?"

He stood up and glanced around the living room, then sighed. 
"I guess I probably should. Wait here."

Joe took a stroll up through the hallway, first stopping in the baby's room. He had nothing in there, but he did just want to take a last look. Everything was as he remembered. A new mobile hung over the crib. After that, he continued to the back, where he found the bedroom. He gave everything a cursory glance and was mostly satisfied that everything he owned was removed. He tried not to pay attention to the bed, where he was sure there were still spots for two people instead of one as he guessed. 

He opened a closet in the hallway and saw nothing. It seemed as though Stacy was pretty thorough. 

"I guess she got everything."

He turned back down the hallway and started to walk back, and as he made his way back to the living room, he saw a comical look of awkwardness on Lucy's face. 
"Luce..?"

Then he saw why. Stacy was walking up the steps behind her, baby in tow. 

"Oh."

"Joe? What are you doing here?"
Lucy quickly stepped out of the way, nearly tripping over Joe's boxes as she did so. For someone that made a living fighting people, she sure hated confrontation. 

"It's the seventh. I'm here for my stuff."

He gestured wildly to his boxes as if to prove his point. Stacy groaned loudly while Lizzie, resting comfortably in her stroller, cooed. 

"That's right. I even put the stuff there. I knew it was today. I was going to stay gone. Although I didn't know you were...bringing help."

She looked over at Lucy and then quickly looked back at Joe, then looked downward. 

"I'll go back to my car until you're done."

Lucy jumped back over the boxes, shoved her way past Joe and then slid past Stacy out the door.

"Nope. Joe's a big boy. He can handle himself. This is your home, so you do whatever you need. Joe, I'll be out in the car. Carry your boxes."

With that, she was gone. Joe didn't blame her. He asked her for help moving boxes, not this.

"I'm sorry."

"No, she's right. It's your house. I'm just here to get my things. Well, not the ring. That's later."

"Yeah I tried to...get as much packed as I could."

He bent down and grabbed a random box, which he just noticed was labeled "clothes." He didn't really want to talk either. Honestly, the neatness of the thing kept poking at him, poking at a wound that he wanted to heal.

"It doesn't seem like it was that difficult."

"It...it was harder than you'd think."

With that, she turned and walked away, back down the hallway to the bedroom. He heard the door shut and then heard a distinctive click, meaning it was locked. He instantly regretted hinting that she didn't feel anything now, because she was clearly upset. Part of him wanted to go to her, but there were several problems with that. First of all, the door was locked and that meant she didn't want to talk. Secondly, this wasn't his house anymore.

This was just a bad situation for everyone. 

He grabbed a second box and began the process of moving his life out of one home and into another. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The future.

None of us can ever really predict it. 

I've been in this business long enough to have plenty of people claim that they were it. Do you know where those people are now? Gone. I've survived them. Some I defeated, some were gone before I even crossed paths with them, some I only heard about flaming out. It's a title that everyone seems to want but no one seems to know what to do with.

Me? I'm only concerned with being the here and now. The present is the only thing that matters, and I've been the best in the world in the present for nearly twenty years. There's always going to be someone that doesn't believe me and I'm always going to have to prove it. That's fine. The old king, grey and withered, climbs down from his throne to do battle with another challenger yet again. 

Bryan Ford's ego has gotten him into a situation he can't win. He's never beaten me. Oh he'll say he has. He thinks he's gone 3-1. And I say let him. Because I know that the one time we've fought one on one, I made his ass tap out. Now he's in this situation where he's got no help and he's trapped with me. And what does he do? He constantly pisses me off. That's a rookie mistake if I ever saw one, and this guy is not a rookie. He's been around. Yet he is making the dumbest rookie moves.

This is a guy whose father has been in the business. This is a guy who has been trained by former wrestlers. He should know better. The people who have trained him know who I am. And yet he continues to write these checks that he has no way to cash. Let's just say, just for argument's sake, that he's only seen my Carnage work. Well, I retired Redemption. I went unpinned here for nearly a year. I'm a two-time tag team champion. That's just in Carnage.

I may not be the fighter I once was. I'll admit that. It may take me longer to get out of bed these days than it used to. I may have to take ice baths after matches now because of how sore I feel. But I'll be damned if I'm still not the best in that ring. I'm not letting some little shit who has no respect for those who came before him beat me so he can laugh it up with his other little shits on Twitter so they can trade likes and retweets.

All of these people are supposedly backing you against the "old man" at Isolation. Do you know what's going to happen? They're going to see you for the loser you are. They're going to see that the Bryan Ford Show, which I cancelled personally, was a lot of hype. They'll see me standing over you, your blood on my hands, and realize you were nothing. And you'll be abandoned.

I'm going to kick your head in. Just like every other wrestler who thought they could become "the future" at my expense. Your only future is pain and that pain is going to be long and exquisite. 

If you're the face of Carnage, then that face is about to get re-arranged.