I’m unrolling tape from my wrists in the locker room after beating the hell out for another PWE prospect. It’s getting a little repetitive. I’ve barely broken a sweat the last two matches. My bodyguard and best friend Bash Daddy paces in front of me.
“What the fuck are they doing with you here? This is your return to the ring and this is the best they have for you?,”
Bash said.“Yeah, well at least I am knocking the rust off and making a little cash.”
“Like you could really give a fuck about the money. We both know you came here for some real competition before you debut in your own company. You need someone to make you bleed and I’m not sure anyone in this shithole is up to the task.”
I ball the tape up while listening to Bash blow smoke up my ass. I throw the tape in the trash and pull a Metallica shirt on.“For a company that prides itself on excellence everyone I have come across is a fucking glorified mid-carder. Hell, for the last month most people on this roster have been scared to even utter my name before we step in the ring,”
I said, swapping my wrestling boots for a pair of hi-top Vans.“Alexander Hate and Kim Jeawoo were under the impression they didn’t need to prepare for a person like me. I get it, I'm a hungry sewer rat just gnawing on relevancy – but I’m bringing the whole plague with me. Hate and Jeawoo were nothing, it’s time to highlight this career of mine with some more fucking gold.”
I slam the locker, slinging my gym bag over my shoulder. Bash holds the door open as we make our way to the parking lot. He hops in the driver seat of the shit Chevy rental and we hit the fucking road again. My phone buzzes with another booking.“What is it?,”
Bash asks.“My next victim, Wraith at Magnificence II.”
“Poor fucker,”
Bash said shifting the car into drive.I push some AirPods into my ears and pick up where I left off with the podcast I have been listening to. The daughter of the only known woman to survive an attack from my father. I rolled the window down blowing a couple clouds into the street lights above before pressing play.“Welcome back to another episode of Surviving Madness. I’m your host Charlie Davis and I am here with the same woman we chatted with last week. She has survived school shootings, redneck freaks in the woods, a summer camp slasher and is the daughter of the only woman to survive an attack from The Cleaver Killer,” Charlie takes a breath and a sip of water.
“Thanks for joining us for the second time in the studio Eileen.”
“Thanks for having me again,” she said.
“So we talked alot about your own experiences last week, your brushes with death, but what did your mom tell you about her own run in with The Cleaver Killer,” Charlie asked.
Eileen clears her throat.
“I’ll tell you the same way my mother used to tell me…”
***
Six months pregnant and high on cocaine. Casanova’s and Elieen’s moms are kindred spirits in that respect. The slender woman, not a curve on her body besides her bloated belly waved in the wind on the side of the road sticking her thumb up as every 18-wheeler passed by.
Then he stopped.
The man in the blue sedan. Charming, concerned, he felt safe at first. Got out of the car to open the door for her and everything.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Kitchener, I’ll go as far as you will take me,” she said.
Gas, cash or ass – she knew the rules of the road all to well… was the reason she had this fucking thing growing inside her. She could feel it squirm with every movement she made – mom took on the motion sickness for the both of them.
“Running away from home or what?”
“Something like that… just need to get out of this town as quickly as possible.”
“Won’t your mom and dad miss you. What about your boyfriend?” The man said hiding malice behind blue eyes pointing at the creature stored in her uterus.
“No… the father and I aren’t talking,” I said.
“That’s too bad,” The Cleaver Killer replied, shooting his eyes to the floor of the back seat where he kept his weapon of choice.
She didn’t realize how many exits toward Kitchener the driver ignored, nodded off for a moment as the cocaine wore off and woke up to a sharp moonlight cutting through the sunroof.
“Where are we,” she turned and started screaming as the driver now had a ski mask down over his face, he wrapped a gloved hand around her throat and squeezed.
“Just don’t… it’ll be easier this way,” he said, choking the life out of her with one hand and reaching in the back seat for his cleaver with the other.
Her eyes started to roll back in her head, her life fading away – but the one inside her just wouldn’t let go. She was a fighter little Elieen before she set foot on this mortal plain. She started kicking at the insides of her mother's belly, trying to bust through flesh, and it snapped her mother’s eye open. It gave her the strength she needed to fight back. She scratched, she clawed, kicked, broke the fucker’s grip. He swung the cleaver and it bounced off the headrest and flung onto the dashboard.
She screamed bloody murder as he tried to regain control. He scrambled for the cleaver and she took the opening to unlock the door. She opens it and as she falls backward into wet mud she kicks upward catching the sick fuck under the jaw.
She got up and ran – deep into the woods – the kicking legs of her unborn daughter propelling her into the forest. She spent the night there – walked to the highway when the day started to break.
Suddenly the creature she thought was sucking life from her – gave her a reason to continue on.
***
“That’s how mom used to tell me the story anyway,” Elieen said, Charlie leaning in too close to the microphone as she listened to every detail of the story.
“So you were a survivor before you were even born. Do you think you and your mother were put here to expose these sick people who have caused so much harm in the world? I mean it can’t just be a coincidence she escaped a notorious serial killer and you have escaped similar brushes with death time and time again,” Charlie questions.
“Truth is, look at the state of things. You go to school, a concert, church and you risk your life because some lunatic might come in and just start blasting. The scary thing is I don’t think I am unique at all. I think we’ll all see a few bodies sooner or later. Surviving in the moment is only half the battle,” Eileen said.
“It’s the parts of yourself left over you have to figure out how they fight together.”
***
I tossed the end of my third chain smoked cigarette out the window and onto the highway. All my life I have embraced the part of myself I have hated the most – the killer inside me. I’ve satisfied the blood lust time and time again. You’ve seen it. I’ve left them lifeless or screaming… I’ve humbled those believed to be legends. I’ve flushed the next hot flavor one after another.
But I still feel empty. I’m not so sure championship gold will fill the void this time. Beating Wraith is one thing, but what do I do next – where do I go when the killing gets too easy. I need to know what it is like to suffer. I need to experience what Elieen has – desperation – I need to find out who I am with my back against the wall and maybe Wraith could be the one give me that fight – that opportunity to taste the iron in my own fucking blood.
It’s all been too easy. I knocked off all the rust to just cut through these pricks like butter. Maybe he’ll slip on the PPV whites… maybe he will talk to his mommy – ask her what it is like to be in the ring with someone at the top of their game.
But by then it’ll be too late – I'll revert to my true ways – and Wraith will be just another victim.
I leaned my head against the passenger side window as Bash drove us toward the airport.
I’m on the side of a mountain. Part of the Rockies stretching from the US all the way up home back in Canada. You could see Denver down below, alive, buzzing, cars and sirens cutting through the wind. Bash already has the camera rolling.“I know you by another name,”
I said pacing, lighting a cigarette and putting it between my lips. I pull it out and blow smoke toward the camera.“Wraith is just another word for ghost – for people on the very brink of death – for people like yourself trying to live up to the expectations of those you believe to be larger than life. You aren’t unique Wraith. You aren’t special. You are just another fast tracked slick tongued little ring rat – born and bred in the business and propelled to lucrative contracts and World Championship opportunities. People like you have been yanking opportunities from me long before I ever entered a wrestling ring. The boss's daughter gets the promotion, the kid inherits daddy’s business when his dementia warps his mind only to run it into the ground. The police chief's son never did get a DUI for all those times he was hammered behind the wheel. See, people like me…. We can't afford the same opportunity people like you are given for free Sabin. You and I are nowhere near the same.”
I take a few puffs off my cigarette looking down at the busy fucking insects infecting the downtown core of Denver.“You are another second generation wrestler… I don’t know what cunt cut into the ground you fowl creatures crawl out of, but I promise one day I will close it up and send all you fucks back to hell. I’ll stop the cycle of CTE passed down from generations to generation because mommy was beat dumb enough to think it’s a good idea to send her boy to the slaughter against Casanova English. You speak three languages now Wraith, but when I am done with you’ll be communicating like Stephen Hawking. You’ll lucky if you aren’t eating through a tube, and don't have to get Fenix to whip your ass. What, you won a World Championship before you could even legally have a drink in the US. At 19 years old this kid was launched to the top of the wrestling industry. Now I’m not going to say your mom did it for you – it takes some work on your own to become a World Champion, I will give you that, but it’s easy to climb the mountain when you are placed halfway to the summit.”
I smirk, then put the cigarette between my lips and spin in circles as Bash gets a shot of the peaks of the Rockies behind me.“You didn’t have to do the groundwork I did in this business, the years it took to even get an opportunity at the World Championship. I didn’t have a family name to fall back on – I didn’t have any star power inherited at the age of 19 years old like you Wraith. And I have been murdering fuckers like you year in year out, month in month out, week in and week fucking out. I’ve been choking the words from your lungs and leaving you breathless in the centre of the ring. You are no different then the million other second and third generation wrestlers in this business because they think it’s in their blood. We will see if wrestling is in your DNA… at Magnificent II it’s going to be damn near surgical. I’ll cut you open and drag bloody face across the canvas post to fucking post. You want to say wrestling is in your blood, well when it comes time for us to go to war here in Denver I’ll make sure you give it back – I’ll make sure you donate your blood to wrestling. And you’ll be paying not only your own admission into the business, but you’ll be fronting the bill for dear ol’ mommy Fenix.”
I look up once again at the peak of the mountain letting smoke just billow out of my mouth. Wraith got there early. Became a champion in his rookie year. He treats a four month reign like it’s significant – truth is…. he doesn't know where to go now. I just need to convince him to jump.“I’m here to eradicate the wrestling privileged. Who better to begin my genocidal extermination of wrestling royalty than the silver spoon fed 19-year-old prodigy. When you were taking bumps in your family ring at 9-years-old I was brushing my mother’s bumps off the kitchen table and into the trash. When you were 9-years-old learning to cut promos I was learning how to describe an overdose to 911 operators. And what, you think a little anger and angst is going to propel you through a man like me little boy – anger was my imaginary friend, my roommate, it found its way into my bones and unlike your brittle ass I found a way to weaponize it. I learned how to use it to choke the life out of pretty boys like you.”
I knock the ash off my cigarette and pace before slowly walking toward the camera as I speak.“Don’t think I haven’t been watching you. I saw what you did to Quinn at Victory. I know you are talented, naturally gifted. I know you are a student of the game, you know every move to a tee. You understand how this business works in and out… I don’t think there is a professional wrestler out there who wouldn’t be a little worried stepping between the ropes with you Wraith. But I am no professional wrestler. Killing is the family business. And that’s what I have been doing… taking a bit of a person’s soul everywhere I go. Truth is I hate everything professional wrestling is, the steroid ridden morns, the fake fickle fucking fans, and especially the nepotism. I’m The Unprofessional.. I’m here to do things completely differently than what you are used to Wraith. I’m here to embarrass people like you, I am here to show you this is a new era of combat sports and your family has no part in it.”
I flick my cigarette off the mountain toward Denver below and walk in close to the camera.“Wraith… is just another word for ghost… and when there is trouble in the neighbourhood you have a new number to fucking call.”
People like him haven't had to survive a day in their life. Their breaths come easy. Care free. There is a god damn given – until someone like me comes along and cuts oxygen off.
