Post by Declan Prescott on Jun 30, 2010 7:08:52 GMT -5
What a waste her existence had become? She was completely useless to the world. Caught up in an endless cycle of lies, betrayal and pain. It was time to end it all. Sitting in the swamp land behind her school, she held over 100 painkillers in her trembling hands. Her entire body was shaking. Water flowing from her eyes. Her skin pale and the terror building in her throat, choking the breath from her body.
This was it…
“WOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!”
Like a missile, a lean boy come soaring through the bushes and flying through the air almost too fast for her to keep up with. The next instant he had gone colliding straight into the swamp. She gasped with horror, seeing only his legs protruding from the thick, garbage filled pool of mud. The rest of his body was underneath the disgusting surface.
“And that’s what happens when you fuck with my sister!” an angry voice roared, as three burly looking, much older, figures emerged from the bushes.
She recognised the leader of the pack as Danica’s big brother, Simon. The three seniors left the scene within moments, seemingly not even having realised her presence. She was thankful for that.
She pondered how to react to the boy still drowning in the mud, before she heard a large groan come from beneath the surface and the victim emerged, with a triumphant wail. Standing upright in the muck, he was now covered in it from head-to-toe. Every inch of his body. Yet he was grinning from ear-to-ear and raising his fist in the air, as if he had just conquered the world itself. With incredible and completely unwarranted confidence filling his stride, he marched from the putrid ooze, as if a child on Christmas morning.
Suddenly he stopped. His gaze fell directly on her. Not that she could see it, but he raised a suspicious eyebrow at her presence. His hawk-like eyes instantly falling on the packets of white pills in her hands.
“Are you okay?” she mumbled with unease, as if only speaking because his commanding gaze forced her to.
“Me?” he replied, his huge, white, toothy grin emerging from the disgusting mud that was beginning to harden on his being. “Never better! What about you?”
She gasped again. “Declan! Is that you?!”
“In the flesh,” he responded. “What’s up, Amy?”
She gasped once more at the acknowledgement she just been greeted with. She had never said even two words to Declan Prescott in her entire life. He was weird. The kind of guy who mocked the geeks, even though he didn’t have any friends of his own. He had always been an enigma to her. As if his body was here, but his mind was off in a dream world where no one else was welcome. And the bruises he always came to school covered in only added to the mystery. But she was certain he didn’t want anyone discovering what that mystery was.
He now sat down opposite her and crossed his legs. She noticed she could now see up his shorts, at his elegant, entirely smooth, bronzed thighs that hadn’t been tainted by the foul smelling substance that covered the rest of his body. She did her best to shake the thought from her head and instead focused on the tablets in her hands.
“Why did Simon throw you in there?” she asked her classmate.
“Danica asked him to,” he replied bluntly.
“Why?” she asked. “Danica is a mean bitch, but this is going too far…”
“Well, I deserved it actually,” he replied. “I cheated on her.”
“Huh?!” The surprise in her voice took even her by surprise. How could antisocial, freak show Declan be dating the most popular girl in their grade? And why would he cheat on her?!
“Yeah,” he replied, now lying down on the grass and sliding his palms underneath the back of his skull. “I was a real jerk.”
“I didn’t know you two were going out…”
“Well now you do,” he responded, as if it were nothing.
“Why did you… did you do that?”
“I guess,” he began and took several moments to complete his sentence. “It’s because I’m a coward.”
“What are you talking about?!” she protested, now completely at a loss.
“I hooked up with another girl at a party I had gone to with Danica,” he answered. “I knew she’d catch me. In fact, I wanted her to. I wanted to break up. But I couldn’t tell her that to her face. I tried… I tried a lot. I just couldn’t do it.”
“How come?”
“I’m not sure, really. I guess I just didn’t want to hurt her. This way, the relationship ended on her terms. I was the one who was left powerless and humiliated when I begged her not to leave me, knowing it was pointless.”
“So you manipulated her?” she spoke, the monotonous tone of her voice indicating how unimpressed she was.
“Yeah,” he said plainly. “I did.”
“Because you didn’t want to hurt her?”
“Yup.”
Guys made no sense to her. Especially this one. Of all the billions of people in the world, he truly was unique. Yet she didn’t have time to protrude into his head any further, as he turned his body to face her and began his own interrogation.
“Now your turn,” he began with a grin. “What made you decide you want to die beside a swamp?”
“Fuck you!” she snapped, entirely out of reflex. A moment later, she bit down on her bottom lip, her cheeks turning a tinge of ashamed red. “Sorry…”
“No, it’s fine,” he responded. “Abuse I can take. So long as you answer my question, in the process.”
“Urgh…” she hesitated, having no clue where to go next. She decided there was only one option. The truth. “My boyfriend cheated on me.”
“Ouch,” he replied, seemingly amused by the situation. “Glad I wasn’t dating you…”
“You’re a jerk!” she spat, this time showing no hesitation. “Just fuck off and leave me alone!”
“To kill yourself?” he inquired rhetorically. “I can’t do that. So tell me, why’d your boyfriend cheat on you?”
“He said…” she began, the tears swelling in her eyes once more and rushing uncontrollably down her face. “He said it’s because the other girl was really hot!”
She pulled her knees up to her face and began sobbing uncontrollably into her skirt. Declan stared contently at her panties, which were now being revealed only inches from his face. After several seconds, he began to speak.
“So do you want to kill yourself to stop the pain of being betrayed or because his words and actions have left you feeling completely unwanted by the world?”
“I… I…” she began crying hysterically once more, unable to respond with anything coherent. Declan continued staring up her skirt, until she quietened down and finally answered his question. “I just want someone who cares about me.”
“Isn’t that what we all want?” he asked, staring back off into the sky once more. “But you’re wrong in thinking you’re alone, Amy. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about you.”
“Wha?!” she gasped.
“So,” he responded, turning back to her with a smile. “As long as I’m alive, you can’t kill yourself.”
“You don’t even know me…”
“I know what I need to. I know you’re a human being. And I know you deserve to live. That’s enough. So even when you think you’re all alone in this world, no matter where you are or what you’re doing - I care for you, Amy Smith.”
He extended his hand towards her lap. Her face instantly turned red, as his hand approached, before he stopped short of his intended mark. His brown, now hardening, crusty hand was resting in hers. With a shot of his pearly, white teeth - contrasting the waste brown of the rest of his body - he took the pain killers in his grasp, rose to his feet and began heading back towards the school.
“They’re gonna say horrible things!” she pleaded, after him. “The whole school will see you like that!”
“Than keep me in your thoughts,” he replied, submerging into the bushes, though she was still in earshot to hear his final, departing words. “And I won’t have to face them alone.”
‘Does he really believe that?’ she wondered inside her mind.
‘It’s finally catching up on me,’ he thought to himself, as his left knee clacked loudly, while he made his way down the well lit, red carpeted hallway.
He was barely 50, but his body cracked and creaked as if he was pushing double that. A lifetime of bar fights, street fights, underground fights and house fights, coupled with the alcohol and drug abuse, had left his body weak and frail. Something Declan Prescott enjoyed pointing out every time the two met. But he had a feeling this time would be different. He had seen Cara Prescott in a state of panic enough times to know when she was distressed about something. And the phone call he had with her told him she was most certainly distressed.
“It’s Declan,” she had whispered, with a quivering voice that allowed him to almost hear the tears rolling down her soft, milky cheeks. “There’s something wrong with him…”
He knocked on the door three times in succession, paused and knocked twice more. The door to the Prescott’s apartment soon opened and Cara stood in the frame, holding a wet tissue, dressed in some worn out shorts, that were tearing along the inner thighs, and one of Declan’s old shirts.
“I’m so glad you came,” she sniffled. “He won’t even talk to me.”
“Where is he now?” he asked, as Cara led him by the hand into the apartment.
He had never actually been inside the Prescott’s home before, but it was just as he had imagined. Expensive, flashy, but also homey and warm. It reflected them perfectly. His eye then caught two more figures seated on the couch in the living room. One was a man he had never met, but was intimately familiar with all the same. The other was a seemingly anorexic kid, who’s glasses looked too large for him to have the strength to lift. The taller man of the two seemed very irritable, as the other yapped something about ‘mad tag skillz’ in his acquaintance’s ear. The kid was Brandon McSkinny. But the other was a much more formidable force -
“Travis Roberts,” the old man spoke, as the seated man met his gaze.
“And you would be?”
“My name isn’t important. What’s he doing here, anyway?” he asked, turning his attention to Cara.
“When Declan freaked out, I didn’t know who to call. I ended up asking you both for help. But Declan wouldn’t even talk to Travis. I’m hoping you have better luck…”
“I guess we’ll see,” he replied.
“Please do,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “He’s in the bedroom.”
“So what’s he been doing?” he asked, as the pair headed down the hall and to their destination.
“He… he told me to fuck off… I was just trying to talk to him…”
He groaned with disapproval, before reassuringly patting Cara on the shoulder.
“I’ll talk some sense into him, don’t you worry young lady. I’m sure he didn’t mean any of it.”
“He’s never… said anything like that to me before… I…”
She couldn’t continue, as she then broke down into tears. He embraced her for several moments, before whispering into her ear that it would be alright. She nodded weakly, before he clasped the bedroom door handle, swung the wooden frame open and marched in, shutting it firmly behind him.
Declan sat on the floor, his back leaning against the bed spread, staring with dead eyes into the East wall, which was made entirely of glass. His face was riddled with stubble, his hair, usually so slick and well maintained, was nothing more than a dark, tattered mess that sat atop his unwashed face. He was still in his wrestling gear that he had worn during Sentinel, meaning he had probably been sitting there like a zombie since he arrived home from the show.
The old man took a seat next to him, groaning loudly at having to bend his legs to such an extent. Declan made no sign that he had even acknowledged the man’s presence. He didn’t so much as blink.
“Hey Declan.”
No response.
“Declan!”
Still nothing.
“Snap out of it, boy!”
The old man shoved him violently to the side, sending him sprawling out on the cream coloured carpet. Declan didn’t move for several moments, before pulling himself up and looking at the old man for the very first time since he had arrived.
“Woodward…” The Significant Player whispered.
“It’s been a while, Declan. Seems you only stop by when you need my help.”
“I didn’t ask you to come,” Declan replied coldly, before turning back to the window.
“No, your wife did,” Woodward retorted. “The one you lashed out at for absolutely no reason!”
Declan grunted loudly, showing Woodward that his presence was not welcome. The old man pressed on, ignoring the child’s disrespect.
“You listen to me!” Woodward spat, grabbing Declan by the ear. “I don’t care what kind of problems you have, don’t you dare take it out on that beautiful, completely innocent woman! Don’t you dare take her for granted, not even for a moment. She trusts you completely and I’m not gonna let you fuck that up, because you’re having a bad day!”
“And what am I meant to do?” Declan hissed, brushing the old man’s hand aside. “Lie to her? Tell her that everything will be okay, even though it won’t? I can’t do it, Woodward. I can’t protect her. I can’t fulfil the promise I made.”
“Nonsense!” Woodward spat. “I know you, boy. And I knew the man who taught you. You’re the most resilient, stubborn man I’ve ever met. And the day Declan Prescott accepts defeat on anything is the day Jeremy Sprock begins rolling in his grave!”
Declan shot a deathly stare at Woodward and the old man needed to actively hide his smile. Any response at all was a good one at this point.
“I can’t do it!” Declan stated, as if a fact. “Have you seen the news?! Do you know what that detective did?!”
“He killed his partner,” Woodward answered, without much concern.
“And now he’s going to try to kill me! He’s going to try to kill Cara! He could be about to strike at this very second! On top of that, a fucking animal is trying to take over my company! My company! The company that’s formation was Jeremy’s dieing wish! What’s even the point of trying?! It’s too much, Woodward!”
SMACK!
Woodward’s hand had connected with Declan’s cheek, sending it instantly tomato red. The old man’s body may have been breaking down, but it could still be relied upon in desperate circumstances. The Significant Player turned to the old man, his fist clenched and shaking uncontrollably.
“Go on!” Woodward dared. “Hit me! At least then I’ll know you still have some fight in you! That you’re not ready to lay down and die like a dog!”
“FUCK YOU!”
“NO, FUCK YOU! AND FUCK THIS PUSSY, ANGST BULLSHIT! YOU’RE BETTER THAN THIS, DECLAN PRESCOTT!”
“That’s not all,” Declan said, as he rose to his feet, his voice completely hollow. “There’s also Brandon Brown. He’s my opponent for Horizons. The one man who has defeated me. For all the talking by the likes of Chris Austin, Sean Cyanide, Aesc The Dark and Andy Savana, Brandon Brown is the one man who’s actually been able to beat me. Hell, he hospitalised me for two months last time we fought.
“I couldn’t even defend myself against him! And now I have to face him again! Being a wrestler was my dream! It was my only reason for living! And I was completely and totally outclassed! So just how the hell do you expect me to be able to protect her?!”
“I don’t know,” Woodward groaned, as he climbed to his feet using the double sized bed for support. “That’s why you’re the smartest wrestler alive and I’m just a broken down, lonely, old man. But you’re off your game about one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“You said it yourself, wrestling was your dream. And you spent the first 21 years of your life chasing that dream. But then you met someone. Someone like no other. Someone that turned your life upside down. And you had to choose between your dream and her. And we both know what you chose. You chose her love to take priority over your dream.
“It was something I never expected. But it happened. And what’s more, she decided her dream would be your dream. That she’d help you in any way she could to become the greatest wrestler of all time. And because of her devotion, you achieved something most others die trying to. You obtained happiness. Living your dream, with the woman you love. That’s something others can only fantasise about in the deepest regions of their imaginations. But not you, Declan Prescott. Because of the people that surround you, you were able to bring joy to your life. And to hers. You know what that means? It means, despite how hard it is for you to believe, that there are people in this world who want to help you.
“And now,” Woodward continued, rising to his feet and letting the fire rage unchallenged in his eyes. “Now you’re giving up on all of them because of a God damned penguin, a hick who got lucky a couple of times and a fucking unstable, broken down ex-cop?! Boy, this better be a FUCKING JOKE!”
Declan stared at the old man, tears seeping from his eyes and shaking slightly. Woodward embraced him tightly, before releasing his grip and wrapping an arm around the young man’s shoulders.
“Do you know why you love her as much as you do?” he asked, his voice now that of caring grandparent. “Why you have these feelings for her that you’ve never felt for anyone else, including yourself?”
Declan turned to him, trying to speak, but only mustering a feeble croak.
“What that bastard of a man you called a father did to you,” Woodward began. “It changed you. You were only four years old and forced to face a truth most spend their entire lives hiding from. But you weren’t ready, you couldn’t have been, being that young. And it changed you. There are parts that people are supposed to have, that you don’t. And because of that, you’ve ben able to care for people, but never be close to them. That was your curse, Declan.
“But not her. When you looked into her eyes, you saw someone who was just as lost, afraid and broken as you. When you looked into her eyes, you saw yourself staring back. And you’ve clung onto her ever since, just as she has to you. Because you’re proof to one another, that there’s good in this world. That some things are worth fighting for, no matter how dire the situation may seem.
“And she’s the only one you’ve ever trusted. The only one you’d be willing to do anything for, without question. You don’t even know what it’s like to have a friend. To have people that you can rely upon, unconditionally. People who are willing to fight by your side. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”
“You…”
“No,” Woodward responded, with an empty smirk. “I’m just an old man, left on this earth to linger and rot.”
“Then who do mean?” Declan whispered, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Travis Roberts.”
“I - ”
“He’s in the next room. Came when Cara told him you were in trouble. A man who’s tasted the bitterness of betrayal, just as you did. Who’s still affected by it to this day, just as you are. Use him, Declan. Trust him. This isn’t a battle you have to fight alone. And I know that terrifies you more than anything else, but it’ll make things easier. For you… and for her.”
“But Maguire?” Declan whispered, as if afraid to ask the question. “Can I really kill him?”
“This world is an ugly place. If we were put here for a reason, it’s long since been lost. And now hatred and greed rule. And there are times when we all have to make a decision - to become apart of the evil or to fall by the wayside. It’s simply human nature - to fight or die. Are you willing to let Cara Prescott die?”
Declan fell to his knees, his body now on the verge of convulsing. Woodward embraced him tightly for several long, heart wrenching moments, before the young warrior calmed.
“And if you decide to embrace the darkness,” Woodward whispered. “These people you call kin - we’ll all still be here. And we’ll all still love you, Declan. We'll help you carry that burden. Because we know everything you do, you do because you believe it’s right. And these demons that would take all you hold dear - to force your hand in such a way means they’ve already embraced the darkness. And they stand against everything that you believe. Everything you swore to defend. So do you have the strength to call yourself a man and fight? Or are you going to be a coward and betray everyone you ever gave your word to?”
“Woodward…” Declan breathed, his words no louder than air leaving the lungs. “Thankyou.”
“Thadda boy!” Woodward grinned.
The door to the master bedroom swung open. Declan Prescott emerged from the room, his mouth etched in an unreadable line. He entered the living room, seeing Travis Roberts ingesting three different joints at once. The cause for this extreme stress relief stood only feet away, as Brandon McSkinny was demonstrating ‘the art of the pelvic thrust’. Cara Prescott’s demeanour was one of unsure hope, as she made her way towards The Significant Player.
“Declan baby, are you oka - ”
She was cut short, as Declan wrapped both his hands around her midsection and firmly planted his lips to hers. Taken by complete surprise, her body shuddered as his tongue entered her mouth, but she relaxed within moments and slid her hands up his side. As he withdrew, she couldn’t contain her smile or the redness that was enveloping her entire face. He ran a hand through her golden blonde hair, coming to a halt at the soft, slender skin of her neck.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “For what I said. It was inexcusable. It’ll never happen again, I promise.”
“It’s okay, I guess,” she replied, still clearly upset over the incident, but unable to contain her smile.
Declan grinned and kissed her again, this time on the forehead, before turning his attention to Travis Roberts. The Blessed One met his gaze, rose to his feet and handed the three pieces to Skinny, unintentionally knocking him down in the process. Neither of them spoke at first, both seemingly unsure how to approach the situation.
“So…” The Headliner began, with no real direction. “… what’s next?”
“I hear you and this walking abortion have a tag match,” Declan replied, approaching Roberts and motioning to Skinny. “And that our wingless friend has put me in a match with two women to try and embarrass me. Some Mick Foley wannabe, who’s too busy teaching her daughter how to take an ass kicking - a lesson I’ll glady provide the syllabus for - than worrying about The Significant Player and Severino’s plastic master, who can’t even keep her muscle head mutt from gnawing at his leash - a woman who was considered inferior to Brandon McSkinny when the fans decided who they wanted as their Champion. And to top it all off, everyone’s favourite plaything is going to serve as the referee.”
“That’d be about right,” Roberts answered, with a raised eyebrow.
“Well then,” Declan said, his voice brimming with nothing, but confidence. “Looks like we have a bit of work to do… to get our company back.”
“Won’t be easy,” Roberts replied, taking one of the joints from Skinny and dragging on it, sending the young man off balance and tumbling to the floor once more.
“It never is,” Declan responded, extending his hand. “But that’s never stopped The Revolution before.”
“The Blessed One is inclined to agree.”
Travis accepted the offer and the two shared a firm handshake. For the briefest moment, it seemed a smile crossed The Significant Player’s lips.
“And what about The Heart And Soul Of GIW’s problem with the derelict cop?”
“Not a concern,” Declan reassured the room, turning his focus to Cara, who was clutching her skirt nervously from the mention of Maguire. “I already have a plan to take care of that particular issue.” He now turned back to Roberts. “But I’ll need your help to do it.”
This was it…
“WOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!”
Like a missile, a lean boy come soaring through the bushes and flying through the air almost too fast for her to keep up with. The next instant he had gone colliding straight into the swamp. She gasped with horror, seeing only his legs protruding from the thick, garbage filled pool of mud. The rest of his body was underneath the disgusting surface.
“And that’s what happens when you fuck with my sister!” an angry voice roared, as three burly looking, much older, figures emerged from the bushes.
She recognised the leader of the pack as Danica’s big brother, Simon. The three seniors left the scene within moments, seemingly not even having realised her presence. She was thankful for that.
She pondered how to react to the boy still drowning in the mud, before she heard a large groan come from beneath the surface and the victim emerged, with a triumphant wail. Standing upright in the muck, he was now covered in it from head-to-toe. Every inch of his body. Yet he was grinning from ear-to-ear and raising his fist in the air, as if he had just conquered the world itself. With incredible and completely unwarranted confidence filling his stride, he marched from the putrid ooze, as if a child on Christmas morning.
Suddenly he stopped. His gaze fell directly on her. Not that she could see it, but he raised a suspicious eyebrow at her presence. His hawk-like eyes instantly falling on the packets of white pills in her hands.
“Are you okay?” she mumbled with unease, as if only speaking because his commanding gaze forced her to.
“Me?” he replied, his huge, white, toothy grin emerging from the disgusting mud that was beginning to harden on his being. “Never better! What about you?”
She gasped again. “Declan! Is that you?!”
“In the flesh,” he responded. “What’s up, Amy?”
She gasped once more at the acknowledgement she just been greeted with. She had never said even two words to Declan Prescott in her entire life. He was weird. The kind of guy who mocked the geeks, even though he didn’t have any friends of his own. He had always been an enigma to her. As if his body was here, but his mind was off in a dream world where no one else was welcome. And the bruises he always came to school covered in only added to the mystery. But she was certain he didn’t want anyone discovering what that mystery was.
He now sat down opposite her and crossed his legs. She noticed she could now see up his shorts, at his elegant, entirely smooth, bronzed thighs that hadn’t been tainted by the foul smelling substance that covered the rest of his body. She did her best to shake the thought from her head and instead focused on the tablets in her hands.
“Why did Simon throw you in there?” she asked her classmate.
“Danica asked him to,” he replied bluntly.
“Why?” she asked. “Danica is a mean bitch, but this is going too far…”
“Well, I deserved it actually,” he replied. “I cheated on her.”
“Huh?!” The surprise in her voice took even her by surprise. How could antisocial, freak show Declan be dating the most popular girl in their grade? And why would he cheat on her?!
“Yeah,” he replied, now lying down on the grass and sliding his palms underneath the back of his skull. “I was a real jerk.”
“I didn’t know you two were going out…”
“Well now you do,” he responded, as if it were nothing.
“Why did you… did you do that?”
“I guess,” he began and took several moments to complete his sentence. “It’s because I’m a coward.”
“What are you talking about?!” she protested, now completely at a loss.
“I hooked up with another girl at a party I had gone to with Danica,” he answered. “I knew she’d catch me. In fact, I wanted her to. I wanted to break up. But I couldn’t tell her that to her face. I tried… I tried a lot. I just couldn’t do it.”
“How come?”
“I’m not sure, really. I guess I just didn’t want to hurt her. This way, the relationship ended on her terms. I was the one who was left powerless and humiliated when I begged her not to leave me, knowing it was pointless.”
“So you manipulated her?” she spoke, the monotonous tone of her voice indicating how unimpressed she was.
“Yeah,” he said plainly. “I did.”
“Because you didn’t want to hurt her?”
“Yup.”
Guys made no sense to her. Especially this one. Of all the billions of people in the world, he truly was unique. Yet she didn’t have time to protrude into his head any further, as he turned his body to face her and began his own interrogation.
“Now your turn,” he began with a grin. “What made you decide you want to die beside a swamp?”
“Fuck you!” she snapped, entirely out of reflex. A moment later, she bit down on her bottom lip, her cheeks turning a tinge of ashamed red. “Sorry…”
“No, it’s fine,” he responded. “Abuse I can take. So long as you answer my question, in the process.”
“Urgh…” she hesitated, having no clue where to go next. She decided there was only one option. The truth. “My boyfriend cheated on me.”
“Ouch,” he replied, seemingly amused by the situation. “Glad I wasn’t dating you…”
“You’re a jerk!” she spat, this time showing no hesitation. “Just fuck off and leave me alone!”
“To kill yourself?” he inquired rhetorically. “I can’t do that. So tell me, why’d your boyfriend cheat on you?”
“He said…” she began, the tears swelling in her eyes once more and rushing uncontrollably down her face. “He said it’s because the other girl was really hot!”
She pulled her knees up to her face and began sobbing uncontrollably into her skirt. Declan stared contently at her panties, which were now being revealed only inches from his face. After several seconds, he began to speak.
“So do you want to kill yourself to stop the pain of being betrayed or because his words and actions have left you feeling completely unwanted by the world?”
“I… I…” she began crying hysterically once more, unable to respond with anything coherent. Declan continued staring up her skirt, until she quietened down and finally answered his question. “I just want someone who cares about me.”
“Isn’t that what we all want?” he asked, staring back off into the sky once more. “But you’re wrong in thinking you’re alone, Amy. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about you.”
“Wha?!” she gasped.
“So,” he responded, turning back to her with a smile. “As long as I’m alive, you can’t kill yourself.”
“You don’t even know me…”
“I know what I need to. I know you’re a human being. And I know you deserve to live. That’s enough. So even when you think you’re all alone in this world, no matter where you are or what you’re doing - I care for you, Amy Smith.”
He extended his hand towards her lap. Her face instantly turned red, as his hand approached, before he stopped short of his intended mark. His brown, now hardening, crusty hand was resting in hers. With a shot of his pearly, white teeth - contrasting the waste brown of the rest of his body - he took the pain killers in his grasp, rose to his feet and began heading back towards the school.
“They’re gonna say horrible things!” she pleaded, after him. “The whole school will see you like that!”
“Than keep me in your thoughts,” he replied, submerging into the bushes, though she was still in earshot to hear his final, departing words. “And I won’t have to face them alone.”
‘Does he really believe that?’ she wondered inside her mind.
* * * * *
‘It’s finally catching up on me,’ he thought to himself, as his left knee clacked loudly, while he made his way down the well lit, red carpeted hallway.
He was barely 50, but his body cracked and creaked as if he was pushing double that. A lifetime of bar fights, street fights, underground fights and house fights, coupled with the alcohol and drug abuse, had left his body weak and frail. Something Declan Prescott enjoyed pointing out every time the two met. But he had a feeling this time would be different. He had seen Cara Prescott in a state of panic enough times to know when she was distressed about something. And the phone call he had with her told him she was most certainly distressed.
“It’s Declan,” she had whispered, with a quivering voice that allowed him to almost hear the tears rolling down her soft, milky cheeks. “There’s something wrong with him…”
He knocked on the door three times in succession, paused and knocked twice more. The door to the Prescott’s apartment soon opened and Cara stood in the frame, holding a wet tissue, dressed in some worn out shorts, that were tearing along the inner thighs, and one of Declan’s old shirts.
“I’m so glad you came,” she sniffled. “He won’t even talk to me.”
“Where is he now?” he asked, as Cara led him by the hand into the apartment.
He had never actually been inside the Prescott’s home before, but it was just as he had imagined. Expensive, flashy, but also homey and warm. It reflected them perfectly. His eye then caught two more figures seated on the couch in the living room. One was a man he had never met, but was intimately familiar with all the same. The other was a seemingly anorexic kid, who’s glasses looked too large for him to have the strength to lift. The taller man of the two seemed very irritable, as the other yapped something about ‘mad tag skillz’ in his acquaintance’s ear. The kid was Brandon McSkinny. But the other was a much more formidable force -
“Travis Roberts,” the old man spoke, as the seated man met his gaze.
“And you would be?”
“My name isn’t important. What’s he doing here, anyway?” he asked, turning his attention to Cara.
“When Declan freaked out, I didn’t know who to call. I ended up asking you both for help. But Declan wouldn’t even talk to Travis. I’m hoping you have better luck…”
“I guess we’ll see,” he replied.
“Please do,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “He’s in the bedroom.”
“So what’s he been doing?” he asked, as the pair headed down the hall and to their destination.
“He… he told me to fuck off… I was just trying to talk to him…”
He groaned with disapproval, before reassuringly patting Cara on the shoulder.
“I’ll talk some sense into him, don’t you worry young lady. I’m sure he didn’t mean any of it.”
“He’s never… said anything like that to me before… I…”
She couldn’t continue, as she then broke down into tears. He embraced her for several moments, before whispering into her ear that it would be alright. She nodded weakly, before he clasped the bedroom door handle, swung the wooden frame open and marched in, shutting it firmly behind him.
Declan sat on the floor, his back leaning against the bed spread, staring with dead eyes into the East wall, which was made entirely of glass. His face was riddled with stubble, his hair, usually so slick and well maintained, was nothing more than a dark, tattered mess that sat atop his unwashed face. He was still in his wrestling gear that he had worn during Sentinel, meaning he had probably been sitting there like a zombie since he arrived home from the show.
The old man took a seat next to him, groaning loudly at having to bend his legs to such an extent. Declan made no sign that he had even acknowledged the man’s presence. He didn’t so much as blink.
“Hey Declan.”
No response.
“Declan!”
Still nothing.
“Snap out of it, boy!”
The old man shoved him violently to the side, sending him sprawling out on the cream coloured carpet. Declan didn’t move for several moments, before pulling himself up and looking at the old man for the very first time since he had arrived.
“Woodward…” The Significant Player whispered.
“It’s been a while, Declan. Seems you only stop by when you need my help.”
“I didn’t ask you to come,” Declan replied coldly, before turning back to the window.
“No, your wife did,” Woodward retorted. “The one you lashed out at for absolutely no reason!”
Declan grunted loudly, showing Woodward that his presence was not welcome. The old man pressed on, ignoring the child’s disrespect.
“You listen to me!” Woodward spat, grabbing Declan by the ear. “I don’t care what kind of problems you have, don’t you dare take it out on that beautiful, completely innocent woman! Don’t you dare take her for granted, not even for a moment. She trusts you completely and I’m not gonna let you fuck that up, because you’re having a bad day!”
“And what am I meant to do?” Declan hissed, brushing the old man’s hand aside. “Lie to her? Tell her that everything will be okay, even though it won’t? I can’t do it, Woodward. I can’t protect her. I can’t fulfil the promise I made.”
“Nonsense!” Woodward spat. “I know you, boy. And I knew the man who taught you. You’re the most resilient, stubborn man I’ve ever met. And the day Declan Prescott accepts defeat on anything is the day Jeremy Sprock begins rolling in his grave!”
Declan shot a deathly stare at Woodward and the old man needed to actively hide his smile. Any response at all was a good one at this point.
“I can’t do it!” Declan stated, as if a fact. “Have you seen the news?! Do you know what that detective did?!”
“He killed his partner,” Woodward answered, without much concern.
“And now he’s going to try to kill me! He’s going to try to kill Cara! He could be about to strike at this very second! On top of that, a fucking animal is trying to take over my company! My company! The company that’s formation was Jeremy’s dieing wish! What’s even the point of trying?! It’s too much, Woodward!”
SMACK!
Woodward’s hand had connected with Declan’s cheek, sending it instantly tomato red. The old man’s body may have been breaking down, but it could still be relied upon in desperate circumstances. The Significant Player turned to the old man, his fist clenched and shaking uncontrollably.
“Go on!” Woodward dared. “Hit me! At least then I’ll know you still have some fight in you! That you’re not ready to lay down and die like a dog!”
“FUCK YOU!”
“NO, FUCK YOU! AND FUCK THIS PUSSY, ANGST BULLSHIT! YOU’RE BETTER THAN THIS, DECLAN PRESCOTT!”
“That’s not all,” Declan said, as he rose to his feet, his voice completely hollow. “There’s also Brandon Brown. He’s my opponent for Horizons. The one man who has defeated me. For all the talking by the likes of Chris Austin, Sean Cyanide, Aesc The Dark and Andy Savana, Brandon Brown is the one man who’s actually been able to beat me. Hell, he hospitalised me for two months last time we fought.
“I couldn’t even defend myself against him! And now I have to face him again! Being a wrestler was my dream! It was my only reason for living! And I was completely and totally outclassed! So just how the hell do you expect me to be able to protect her?!”
“I don’t know,” Woodward groaned, as he climbed to his feet using the double sized bed for support. “That’s why you’re the smartest wrestler alive and I’m just a broken down, lonely, old man. But you’re off your game about one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“You said it yourself, wrestling was your dream. And you spent the first 21 years of your life chasing that dream. But then you met someone. Someone like no other. Someone that turned your life upside down. And you had to choose between your dream and her. And we both know what you chose. You chose her love to take priority over your dream.
“It was something I never expected. But it happened. And what’s more, she decided her dream would be your dream. That she’d help you in any way she could to become the greatest wrestler of all time. And because of her devotion, you achieved something most others die trying to. You obtained happiness. Living your dream, with the woman you love. That’s something others can only fantasise about in the deepest regions of their imaginations. But not you, Declan Prescott. Because of the people that surround you, you were able to bring joy to your life. And to hers. You know what that means? It means, despite how hard it is for you to believe, that there are people in this world who want to help you.
“And now,” Woodward continued, rising to his feet and letting the fire rage unchallenged in his eyes. “Now you’re giving up on all of them because of a God damned penguin, a hick who got lucky a couple of times and a fucking unstable, broken down ex-cop?! Boy, this better be a FUCKING JOKE!”
Declan stared at the old man, tears seeping from his eyes and shaking slightly. Woodward embraced him tightly, before releasing his grip and wrapping an arm around the young man’s shoulders.
“Do you know why you love her as much as you do?” he asked, his voice now that of caring grandparent. “Why you have these feelings for her that you’ve never felt for anyone else, including yourself?”
Declan turned to him, trying to speak, but only mustering a feeble croak.
“What that bastard of a man you called a father did to you,” Woodward began. “It changed you. You were only four years old and forced to face a truth most spend their entire lives hiding from. But you weren’t ready, you couldn’t have been, being that young. And it changed you. There are parts that people are supposed to have, that you don’t. And because of that, you’ve ben able to care for people, but never be close to them. That was your curse, Declan.
“But not her. When you looked into her eyes, you saw someone who was just as lost, afraid and broken as you. When you looked into her eyes, you saw yourself staring back. And you’ve clung onto her ever since, just as she has to you. Because you’re proof to one another, that there’s good in this world. That some things are worth fighting for, no matter how dire the situation may seem.
“And she’s the only one you’ve ever trusted. The only one you’d be willing to do anything for, without question. You don’t even know what it’s like to have a friend. To have people that you can rely upon, unconditionally. People who are willing to fight by your side. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”
“You…”
“No,” Woodward responded, with an empty smirk. “I’m just an old man, left on this earth to linger and rot.”
“Then who do mean?” Declan whispered, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Travis Roberts.”
“I - ”
“He’s in the next room. Came when Cara told him you were in trouble. A man who’s tasted the bitterness of betrayal, just as you did. Who’s still affected by it to this day, just as you are. Use him, Declan. Trust him. This isn’t a battle you have to fight alone. And I know that terrifies you more than anything else, but it’ll make things easier. For you… and for her.”
“But Maguire?” Declan whispered, as if afraid to ask the question. “Can I really kill him?”
“This world is an ugly place. If we were put here for a reason, it’s long since been lost. And now hatred and greed rule. And there are times when we all have to make a decision - to become apart of the evil or to fall by the wayside. It’s simply human nature - to fight or die. Are you willing to let Cara Prescott die?”
Declan fell to his knees, his body now on the verge of convulsing. Woodward embraced him tightly for several long, heart wrenching moments, before the young warrior calmed.
“And if you decide to embrace the darkness,” Woodward whispered. “These people you call kin - we’ll all still be here. And we’ll all still love you, Declan. We'll help you carry that burden. Because we know everything you do, you do because you believe it’s right. And these demons that would take all you hold dear - to force your hand in such a way means they’ve already embraced the darkness. And they stand against everything that you believe. Everything you swore to defend. So do you have the strength to call yourself a man and fight? Or are you going to be a coward and betray everyone you ever gave your word to?”
“Woodward…” Declan breathed, his words no louder than air leaving the lungs. “Thankyou.”
“Thadda boy!” Woodward grinned.
* * * * *
The door to the master bedroom swung open. Declan Prescott emerged from the room, his mouth etched in an unreadable line. He entered the living room, seeing Travis Roberts ingesting three different joints at once. The cause for this extreme stress relief stood only feet away, as Brandon McSkinny was demonstrating ‘the art of the pelvic thrust’. Cara Prescott’s demeanour was one of unsure hope, as she made her way towards The Significant Player.
“Declan baby, are you oka - ”
She was cut short, as Declan wrapped both his hands around her midsection and firmly planted his lips to hers. Taken by complete surprise, her body shuddered as his tongue entered her mouth, but she relaxed within moments and slid her hands up his side. As he withdrew, she couldn’t contain her smile or the redness that was enveloping her entire face. He ran a hand through her golden blonde hair, coming to a halt at the soft, slender skin of her neck.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “For what I said. It was inexcusable. It’ll never happen again, I promise.”
“It’s okay, I guess,” she replied, still clearly upset over the incident, but unable to contain her smile.
Declan grinned and kissed her again, this time on the forehead, before turning his attention to Travis Roberts. The Blessed One met his gaze, rose to his feet and handed the three pieces to Skinny, unintentionally knocking him down in the process. Neither of them spoke at first, both seemingly unsure how to approach the situation.
“So…” The Headliner began, with no real direction. “… what’s next?”
“I hear you and this walking abortion have a tag match,” Declan replied, approaching Roberts and motioning to Skinny. “And that our wingless friend has put me in a match with two women to try and embarrass me. Some Mick Foley wannabe, who’s too busy teaching her daughter how to take an ass kicking - a lesson I’ll glady provide the syllabus for - than worrying about The Significant Player and Severino’s plastic master, who can’t even keep her muscle head mutt from gnawing at his leash - a woman who was considered inferior to Brandon McSkinny when the fans decided who they wanted as their Champion. And to top it all off, everyone’s favourite plaything is going to serve as the referee.”
“That’d be about right,” Roberts answered, with a raised eyebrow.
“Well then,” Declan said, his voice brimming with nothing, but confidence. “Looks like we have a bit of work to do… to get our company back.”
“Won’t be easy,” Roberts replied, taking one of the joints from Skinny and dragging on it, sending the young man off balance and tumbling to the floor once more.
“It never is,” Declan responded, extending his hand. “But that’s never stopped The Revolution before.”
“The Blessed One is inclined to agree.”
Travis accepted the offer and the two shared a firm handshake. For the briefest moment, it seemed a smile crossed The Significant Player’s lips.
“And what about The Heart And Soul Of GIW’s problem with the derelict cop?”
“Not a concern,” Declan reassured the room, turning his focus to Cara, who was clutching her skirt nervously from the mention of Maguire. “I already have a plan to take care of that particular issue.” He now turned back to Roberts. “But I’ll need your help to do it.”
