“Keep grinding. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grinding. And that’s how we’re gonna win."
For weeks now, Joe had been dealing with the weight of the world. He was now re-establishing a relationship with his daughter now that he had been seeing her regularly, and his fiancee was still bitter and depressed after her string of bad news. If there was one place he could find solace, it was in his work.
Coming out of 2020, he found that he enjoyed wrestling more than he had in some time. Just getting in there and doing it was an outlet for his frustration. After some time had passed, even the sting of dropping a match to Randy Boolzian didn't sting as badly. And even when it did, he was more mad at himself for not ending it when he had the opportunity.
But the pressure of competition, which was mostly his own fault, wasn't exactly conducive to his mental health when he was already attempting to process so much. When one has a fragile state of mind, they can't handle as much as a healthy person can. And Joe's support system, such as it was, wasn't exactly in the business of being able to handle his brain.
Lucy had admitted even on her best days she wasn't sure how to handle it, but she knew him well enough and was blunt enough to tell him what he needed to hear. Even so, he refused to put his problems on her right now.
There would be no point, especially since he paid someone biweekly to listen to his problems.
It just so happened that he found a place that didn't agree with him. They actually intended to take him off his medication, which he resisted, and the therapist herself never seemed all that interested in actually helping, as they kept talking in circles. The only way she helped was being named Karen during a time when that particular name was synonymous with useless twits.
Today he found himself low, so he made sure to get in an appointment at the last minute.
Joe wore a hoodie at the time, his hood draped over his head. The struggle had been particularly bad and keeping up appearances for people that could not see how he really felt just made it worse. But around his therapist, he could let it out. It was freeing, in a way.
"Why are you looking down? Normally you at least make some eye contact."
Joe briefly glanced up at her, unable to really discern her expressions under a face mask and resumed paying attention to his restless hands.
"What happened to your face?" she asked, concerned. His eyebrow was tinged purple and slightly swollen. As far as anyone knew, it was thanks to one of the forearms from Duncan Ryder at Synergy last Monday.
But he hadn't done that in a while. He'd have to answer to a lot of people for it, and the stability of his mental health was the least of their problems.
"I'm sorry, it's just..."
"It's just you thought the nutcase was hitting himself again."
The truth was, he felt insulted that she would even suggest it.
"I'm your therapist, Joe. It's my job to make sure you're not a threat to yourself, remember? Honestly, the fact that you seem so offended is a good thing. Means you wouldn't consider it."
His head lowered back down to his hands, clenched into fists. He wasn't even aware he had been doing it. A feeling of guilt creeped up the back of his spine before it nestled into his gray matter, where it would pick at him later in the night.
Joe considered this for a moment. He had been feeling a myriad of emotions, of course, but there was one that was just seemed to dominate.
He let his voice trail off, as he wasn't even sure what would would happen if the pressure continued. Would he snap again? Would he lose it on the wrong person? Would he do the very thing he was just questioned about? Not even he knew, and the thought worried him.
"Okay," she said. "Have you had any suicidal thoughts?"
He knew that was a routine question, but it bothered him just the same. Of course not...except he had pushed himself incredibly hard at the end of the year. He was the one escalating feuds and taking abuse as punishment.
Rather than dwell on the subject, he shook his head. If they had been there, they had only been fleeting, as he'd never subject his family to that. He was needed. He was wanted. He was valued.
"So you wouldn't do anything to harm yourself?"
"I haven't yet," he said. That was as honest an answer as he could give, although it still felt like a lie.
"Get to work," Joe repeated.
His hands dropped to his knees and he gripped his kneecaps as the visit wore on, his knuckles going white.
"What did you say?" she asked.
She spun around in her chair to her desk, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a few packets. She handed them over to Joe, who glanced at them briefly and then rolled them up in his hands, squeezing them now instead.
Glancing at her, he asked, "What is this?"
Joe stood up now, squeezing the rolled up packets harder until they bent inward. Now he was more than a little insulted. He was pissed off.
"Willful? I'm here, aren't I?"
She put a hand out again, motioning for him to be calm. Realizing he did jump the gun a little bit, he sat back down, letting the papers uncurl in his hand before squeezing them again, looking back down.
"Yes, you're here. But that's not all this takes. You have to put in effort. And I don't mean to say you're not, just that this isn't something that happens overnight. It's a constant effort and a slow process."
She flipped through one of the packets she had, landing on a page with a large list on it.
"In the second packet, there's a list of fun activities to do. I think what you need to do is to pick some and do them. Focus entirely on doing something enjoyable, and maybe it will help you relax."
"Are you serious?" he asked spitefully.
He did so. It had a variety of activities on it. 'Watch a sunset.' 'Go see a movie.' 'Solve a puzzle.' He shut his eyes to prevent himself from rolling them in her face.
"Do you have something picked?"
He hadn't and likely wouldn't. He came here for answers, for support, not this. He looked at his watch, then stood up again.
"Our time is up," he said, taking the role she normally did.
"I'll do it in the office," he lied.
"Have a good day, Joe. Take care of yourself."
Joe said nothing. He waited for the door to shut behind him, then walked toward the exit. As he did so, he tossed the self-help packets in the trash.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometime later, Joe found himself pulling up to the condo he shared with Lucy. She wasn't here at the moment, away visiting Eden. He wondered if Eden would be as delicate as he had been and thought not. But maybe that was what Lucy needed. He just couldn't bring himself to do it.
As for his daughter, Lizzie was staying with her mother for the time being.
He'd be alone. At peace. The thought gave him a sense of calm and dread. And guilt. A lot of guilt.
Nonetheless, he went inside and immediately flopped on the couch, letting out a loud sigh without the worry anyone could hear him. He didn't even bother shutting the door. Those who knew who lived here knew not to try anything and those who didn't would learn the hard way, no matter which occupant was there at the time.
His phone buzzed and he picked it up. It was a voicemail from his brother.
"Hey bro, call me when you get this. I think you mentioned you were in therapy? Anyway, I've got some news. I tried texting you about it but I guess you missed them. Don..."
The message cut off. He wondered if Eric even knew it. To confirm what the voicemail told him, he looked at his phone. There were at least a dozen text messages he hadn't bothered to check. If his brother, normally laid back, had been sending him this many messages, something was wrong. All of them had some variant of 'Call when you get this' and 'Where are you?' His heart sank.
"Fuck," he grunted, his voice hoarse thanks to a suddenly dry throat.
He felt his skin begin to tingle and a cold feeling develop in the pit of his stomach. His heart began to race. He slowly stood up and began to walk along the floor, not even realizing he was pacing. As he did so, he speed-dialed Eric.
It rang. Then it rang again. Then again.
"Hey this is..."
He hung up, as he knew a voicemail when he heard it. He tried again and the same thing.
What if something happened to him? What if something happened to Stacy or Lizzie? Or Lucy? His heart beat faster and the cold feeling turned to nausea. He sat back down to try to relax, found he couldn't and got back up to pace again. His heart when from racing to sprinting. His chest felt tight. His breathing began to run ragged.
He decided he would drive to New Jersey and find out what was going on, from somebody, himself.
Since he hadn't bothered removing his coat or shoes when he arrived, there was no preparation. He just grabbed his keys off the coffee table and headed to the door. He was almost out when the phone finally buzzed again.
"Hello?"
"Oh there you are. I lost my signal mid message and I think it cut off."
He sighed in relief, but the symptoms persisted. "What's wrong? Is everyone okay?"
"Oh shit bro, it's nothing like that, but it is bad news."
The room began to spin. Was this what a panic attack felt like? He hadn't had to worry about them with the voice and the violent outbursts and depression. He gripped the doorknob to steady himself.
"Wh...", he started, barely able to get the words out. He coughed. "What i..is it?"
There was a moment of silence that felt like an hour. He almost repeated his question when his brother chimed in. "The storage unit where we had all the stuff from our childhood. All of mom and dad's things. It's gone."
"It's...what do you mean gone?"
"There was an electrical fire. A whole section of units went up. Including ours. They want us down there to look through what's left. Apparently not everything got burned but they...they didn't sound hopeful."
He swallowed, feeling the sting of irritation as there was no liquid to lubricate the process. He didn't need this. Not more bad news. Not something else to deal with. His problems were small compared to other people's, but a ton of bricks can land on you just as hard as a boulder. It wasn't this one thing, it was everything. Everything coming apart piece by piece.
"I'll...I'll drive over now."
Not allowing his brother a chance to respond, he hung up. What else was there to say? His entire past was gone. His fiancee was a broken, bitter mess. His wrestling career was near an end due to a neck injury that could potentially cripple him. His mental health was always going to be teetering on the edge.
He turned around, grabbed a wastebasket next to the door and threw up in it. Or at least attempted to, as it was more like dry heaving.
What a day. What a year. What a life.
He shakily set the wastebasket down, wondering if he would get back before Lucy did to get rid of it. A humorless chuckle escaped him at the thought of her coming back to see the remains of a panic attack.
Without thinking, he drove his fist into the wall, yelling out as he did so. He pulled back a hand that was immediately red and with two split knuckles. He felt better and he felt worse.
It would just be another injury he'd have to lie to someone about.
His legs feeling a little stronger, in spite of the rest of his condition, he stepped out of the condo and shut the door behind him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
JC was sitting in his car, the radio turned on. Thanks to modern technology, he could play just about anything he wanted from Spotify anywhere he wanted. Bluetooth was a wonderful thing. He stared at himself in the mirror as the voice of Geddy Lee sang softly, the volume turned down so JC could speak.
Things had been bad, but the one consistent thing was wrestling. Perhaps, trashing someone around could be that one fun thing he needed to do.
There's one thing about this business that will, I think, always be one-hundred percent true. The amount of inauthentic people outweigh those who are upfront. There will always be a degree of backstabbing, pettiness, liars, cliques and cronyism. Where mistakes will always be held against you and your successes are ignored.
So in a way, you have to appreciate someone like Sebastian Everett Bryce, third of his name. He's completely authentic and completely himself all of the time. It's one of the few things someone like myself and someone like him share in common.
Of course, it was entirely possible he had read Sebastian wrong, but in their brief interactions, back when he was pretending to be America's Next Top Creep, he realized the two had vastly different personalities and he instantly took a disliking to him.
I've never made any claims to be anything other than what I am, flaws and all. And flaws and all, Bryce is the same way. He may not think he's flawed, but he also doesn't care if you think so. He is unabashedly who he is and that is in itself an admirable quality.
You know, if this match happened last year, I might be really mad. Bitter, even. Because I held in a lot of bitterness last year. But when I burned down Tempest's farmhouse I also let a lot of that go. I had to, because there are more important things in life than being violent and my family is what matters.
Geddy continued to sing the Rush song.
A lot better than I think am
An amusing thought passed through his mind of UGWC having to pay royalties for what music might be playing in the background of someone's promo.
With someone like Bryce, I might have been frustrated that they've been to the mountaintop and I haven't. Go ahead and say it, Sebastian, you aren't telling me anything I don't already know. Go ahead and tell me you won the Massive Melee. Tell me you won at Battleground. Tell me all these achievements that I don't have.
And then let me tell you a few things.
Your career will likely get you inducted into the Hall of Fame, but I know one thing you haven't won. You haven't won the Global Challenge. Not yet. And I think it'd be argued that if you get past me, you probably have a shot at clearing B Block. We'd be tied and I would have no more chances to improve my standing. I'm sure you think that if you beat me, you'll beat Boolzian and go on to beat Hide or Hastings or whoever.
Because that's the kind of person you are. Always confident, bordering on arrogant.
He smirked, realizing that he was accusing him of the very same thing Duncan Ryder accused him of.
Maybe he was just as wrong. Or maybe Ryder was right.
But here's what I know. As I've said many times, wrestling is a "what have you done for me lately" kind of business. And what have you done lately, Sebastian? You didn't win at Horizons. I did. You didn't beat Duncan Ryder. I did. You haven't once led the B block. I did it twice.
And don't think I didn't see what you said about my "obsession" or my fiancee. Whether a snide comment just to be a dick or preemptive groundwork to throw me off my game, it was cute. It also won't work.
Things are different than they were the last time we shared a ring together, at Outlast. Very different.
They hadn't interacted much at that PPV, but it was definitely a different JC that had been in the ring with him. And it seemed everyone still expected the violent, irrational JC that burned a man alive to still be coming out.
The truth was, Joe didn't need that JC anymore.
I'm not that guy anymore. If you want that guy, you'll either need a time machine or you'll have to travel to a different fed. And I've learned I don't need to be him anymore, because I can win without it. I beat Vaughn. I beat Ryder. And I can beat you.
And I have to. I can't afford a draw. I certainly can't afford a loss. This is my very last chance to cement my B Block win and my place in the Global Challenge finals.
It's a lot of pressure to put on myself, but I perform at my best under pressure. Because a tournament like this, it's not about who's the strongest. Who's the fastest. Who's the most violent. Who's the smartest. It's about who is willing to give the most of themselves, to sacrifice their health and their stamina to prove that they have what it takes.
JC chuckled.
Sounds like me, doesn't it? You don't know about sacrifice. You just think everything will work out for you because it always has. But that's not reality. Reality is when you want things to go your way but they don't because you don't put in the effort.
Another way we're alike. Because I expected to redeem myself last year because that's what's supposed to happen in these stories. But you don't just get redemption. It doesn't just happen. You have to earn it. You have to put the work in, just like anything else.
I'm ready to earn my way into the Global Challenge finals. I'm ready to earn my spot at the top. And I'm ready to the best I can be.
It's time to go to work.
He reached forward and turned up the volume as Rush began to reach the end of the song.
