AN: Based on the song "Timelessness" by Fear Factory.
It seemed like an everlasting night for him. A night that slowly lumbered by as the numbers on the clock went up, only to start again from the bottom as each hour crept. It seem like time didn't exist. He was wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts and a white robe. His view was heavily contorted by the bottle of Jack Daniels. Half full with aged liquor, lied by his side.
He sat on the hotel room's bed. The expensive sheets were ripped off which left the mattress bared. A single lamp give out the only light within the whole room as it laid on the floor. It created creeping shadow within the room. The floor was littered with clothes. Purple, yellow, orange. A large variety of colors.
How could this happen?
It was a question he kept on asking himself over and over again. Each time, he hoped that he would find answer. But with each time the answer evaded him. Or maybe the answer did not exist. If only things were so simple for him. But in his state, even simplicity had become a great difficulty.
How could she do this to me? After all that we've been through, this is my thanks? To stab me in the back?
He remembered as he watched them there on the ramp. After he lost the match and after she slapped him. It was the slap he never thought he would have felt. His heartstrings barely holding on together with a death but slipping grip. The strings come undone as he watched their lips come together and their tongues wrapped around with one another. His world of reality was shattered, right there and then. His confidence that was already beaten to ground was now being crushed even more. His heart was now broken in two. In front of millions of people at the biggest event of them all, they were witnesses to what would be the beginning of his private downward spiral.
My only view is through one of a bottle. It's the only way that I can see anything straight.
It was the beginning of him to hit the bottle, sniff up the coke, and pay for escorts. But they could only numb the pain temporary. After each shot downed, after each drug taken, after each escort fucked, he got only a little pleasure. The pain would return with a vengeance, to punish him for forgetting.
Because of a stupid bet, I almost lost her. But it seems like she was never to be gain by me. The only thing for me to gain in the end is pain.
He hit the bottle hard and the bottle hit back. His wrestling turned sloppy, his mic work turned gibberish, his good looks started to fade away. His eyes were lined with small streams of crimson. His skin which was of a deep tan beforewas now white as a ghost. The loss of muscle mass was thanked to his contribution of not eating and drugs. He was a shell of his former self as he looked deep in the mirror in front of him.
How the mighty have fallen.
He stroked his hand through his golden locks. The hair just felt so weak and frail to him. It was almost like it could just fall apart with just a touch.
She was a motherfucking bitch! That is what she is, what she was, and what she will always be!
He felt his blood boil as he thought about her. He thought about how he wanted his two hands wrapped around her throat, choking her of her oxygen and of her life. Her eyes that was once full of confidence that were now replaced with fear. His heart started to beat faster as his breathing became rapid. Suddenly he threw the bottle across the room. It shattered into pieces against the wall.
Creepy little bastard! Screwed me from behind because he was screwing her. Both of them made my life hell! I will make them both pay for what they done to me!
He slowly got up and walked toward the dresser. On top were a bottle filled with an unidentifiable liquid and a syringe with a needle attached. He picked up both and planted the syringe into the rubber top. He slowly pulled back on the plunger that drew in the black liquid within the syringe.
He threw the bottle behind as he removed the syringe. It smashed against the wall and left a small black streak. He pushed on the plunger and the syringe squirted a small stream. He took in a deep breath as he wrapped a tourniquet with his free hand and teeth. The vein within his inner elbow was his target. He slowly bought down the syringe on the vein as he closed his eyes.
No turning back for me. There's just no turning back. I'm already over the edge. There's just nothing left here for me to stay for.
He felt a small prick as the needle was inserted into the vein. He slowly pushed the plunger in all the way as the liquid emptied into his system. After a few seconds, he felt no change.
I guess I failed at this too.
Suddenly his body violently convulses. The syringe pulled at an angle that needle snapped and stayed lodged in the skin. He dropped to the ground as he struggle to breathe. The short gasps of air he took were not reaching his lungs in a quick amount of time. He vomits a spew of brown and red off from his mouth and nose as he heaves again and again and more vomit comes forth. Saliva slowly dripped his lip as the room spun around him.
Then he felt his windpipe closed up.
His hands reached up to his throat as he got up. His fingernail clawed at his throat in such desperation, that his own flesh was getting clawed away. His teethbit down on his tongue andsevered it and his mouth filled with blood.
His bare feet crashed down on the lamp as he stumbled around. His feet were lacerated and the room plunged into darkness with only the crescent moon giving only the small amount of light. He let out silent gasp after silent gasp.
His mind was a whirlwind as his life flashed before his eyes. The precious memories which he held dear passed by, one by one.
With a struggled cry, he let out his final words.
"Damn you all for making me do this!"
With that said, he dropped onto the bed. His were eyes wide open with accusation and his body constantly twitched as his system started to shut down. Blood slowly dripped out of his mouth and streaked down his face.
He was found the next morning. Everyone felt different emotions when they heard the news. Some reacted with shock, some with sadness, and others reacted with anger. Though the anger wasn't directed at him but at the ones that droved him to do this, Christian and Trish Stratus.
They would now become a part of living damnation. Where everyone would already passed judgment. They were made to feel guilt, to feel hopelessness, to make them feel sorry for everything that they did to Chris Jericho.
It would feel like the torment won't end. Where they're in a world where time does not exist.
Timelessness.
AN: I had this idea ever since Christian and Trish turned on Jericho at Wrestlemania XX. Just didn't have time to get around writting it until now. Betterlate than never,I guess.