Disclaimer: I do not own any WWE superstars nor do I own the WWE (damn!)
He had to get away from them. It was all too much. There was no dealing with it, not with the way they weren't looking at him, or the way they weren't speaking to him. It wasn't his fault, was it? He hadn't meant it, had he? Maybe he had. He just didn't know. He just knew he hated himself. There was nothing about himself he could live with. They were all right. They hated him now, and he agreed. He glanced at Adam and he averted his eyes. Mental nod, he couldn't even look at him. His own best friend hated him. He couldn't take it anymore; ht couldn't take their non-stares. He slipped away, knowing that they wouldn't come after him. Why look for someone who shouldn't even exist?
He found a bathroom and drifted inside. Cold in here. Smelled like perfume. No matter, who cared? He shut himself into one of the stalls and locked the door. Déjà vu. He'd done this before. Who cared? He dug into his pocket, pulled out two crumpled plastic baggies, and sat down. For the slightest moment, the thought "don't do this" flashed through his mind, barely registered and nowhere near enough to make him stop.
He dumped the contents of the baggies, about two dozen colored tablets and capsules, into his hand, and stopped for a moment, his eyes glazed and unfocused. He mumbled to himself for a moment, perhaps a prayer, and then tipped the tabs into his mouth. He chewed them, swallowed, and sat back, eyes dull. Beyond fear, beyond tears, numb. Waiting. Soon nausea set in and he fought it, he wasn't going to let himself throw tem up. Soon enough it faded, and he began to drift. His last clear impression was the smell of cheap perfume.
He woke up slowly, in stages, slipping from dreams to reality almost imperceptibly. He wasn't really sure when he finally woke up. He just gradually became aware that he was. Clear thought was still beyond him. He was perceiving things in stills. "White," he thought. "Everything's white." The thought didn't connect to anything. He was warm and things were white. He let it be for a little while, not really thinking, and not really waking up any further. He didn't remember anything yet. Things were white. Memory suddenly crashed in on him. Unprepared for the flood or pain, he cried out, and then dissolved into tears, completely unable to cope. Why hadn't they just let him die? His outcry had brought people, and in some faraway corner of his mind, he felt their hands on him, heard their voices, but they belonged elsewhere. They couldn't help him. They couldn't take this away from him. At the mercy of his mind, he never felt the prick of a needle, or noticed when oblivion reached out and took him.
The thing in his arm hurt. He was glad; he deserved it. They told him he was dehydrated, and that he needed the thing, and they went out of their way to make it less painful. He wished they wouldn't. He didn't deserve their consideration. Certainly his friends didn't think so; he hadn't even seen them. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering how it could have come to this. He'd never dreamed......
~six weeks previous~ Matt wondered aimlessly down the hall. He wasn't sure where he was going. He just didn't want to be shut in the room anymore. It had been a long day, and he was tired, but nowhere near unwound enough for sleep. Adam was laid up with a migraine, and had asked Matt to keep the TV off, as well as the light, so he couldn't even read. He smiled to himself, his thoughts ironic. "Here's a thing, I'm reduced to wandering the halls for lack of anything else to do. Such an exciting life I'm leading. Ha." He'd been by the front desk about six times, and the woman behind it was beginning to look at him oddly. He grinned at her on his way by, and she shook her head, then went back to her paperwork. Matt laughed a little. "Bet she thinks I'm nuts."
He began his third swing through the third floor corridor when an idea hit him. He and Adam were good friends with Jay, a coworker. Really, Adam was more his friend than Matt's, but they both spent a fair amount of time in Jay's room watching movies, talking music, and hanging out. Matt had never gone there on his own; he usually tagged along with Adam, but he figured he didn't have much to lose. At worst, he'd have to keep wandering the halls, at best, maybe he could check out a movie.
He jogged back to the front desk, and waited for the clerk to look up. When a few minutes had gone by, and she continued to steadfastly ignore him, he reached out and tapped her arm. "Excuse me?" She glance up, annoyed. She was about sick of looking at him. Her eyebrows raised, she waited to hear whatever it was he thought he had to say to her.
Matt smiled engagingly at her, hoping to thaw her out some. She looked about ready to bite his head off. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you, but can you tell me where Jay Reso's room is?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Don't you think it's a little late for you to be running around to people's rooms?" He laughed. "Nope, we specialize in night work. Trust me, he's up. Please, will you tell me what room he' s in?"
He smiled so winningly that she had no choice but to laugh. She looked up the room number, handed it to him, and shook her head, as she watched him run off down the hall.
Matt's soft knock was answered by a friendly "It's open." He laughed, thinking that one day Jay was gonna get walked in on by god only knew who, and let himself in.
"Hey Matt," Jay's friendly greeting boosted his spirits, which had been at a low. He nodded a greeting, "You busy?" Jay laughed, "Hell no, just trying to figure out which of these ridiculously overpriced pay per view movies to watch. C'mon in and help me pick one out." Matt smiled and plopped himself down on the bed, next to Jay. He glanced at the list in Jay's hand and shrugged. "Hey, whatever you want. I don't care." Jay growled at him, "a lot of good you are. Okay, but I don't want to hear that you don't like it." He programmed in his choice and settled back. "Hey where's Adam?" Matt frowned, and shook his head with a sigh, "He's got another headache, bad one, too. Made him really sick. He kinda kicked everybody out."
Jay's cheerful expression fell, replaced by one of concern. "Another one? Matt that's not good, is anyone doing anything about this?" Matt nodded, "yeah, we've all been checked over. I guess everybody's okay. They said it was stress." Jay snorted, "Stress, yeah, that's what they say when what they mean is 'duh, I dunno'."
Matt snickered, "That's what his mom said too. They gave some of us this, though." He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and handed it to Jay, who read the label with an appreciative whistle, "Valium? Wow, you must be stressed. Good stuff. A hundred million housewives can't be wrong." Matt only smiled faintly. Jay shook his head, "Never mind. Is it helping?" Matt shrugged, "I don't know, not really, it doesn't seem to make much difference. Just makes me a little spacey. I don't take it that much." Jay playfully socked Matt on the arm. "Whatcha got to be stressed about, man? Really, what's a fifteen-hour workday? We all do it. You're young and strong, get over it all ready. And if." He read the prescription bottle, "one tablet every six hours as needed, doesn't work, try two." He handed the bottle back to Matt, who laughed for a moment, but his good humor faded quickly, and he looked at Jay wide eyed and serious. "You have no idea, you know. You really don't have any idea what's been going on." "What has been going on, Matt?"
Jay was concerned. Between Adam's headaches that took him completely off his feet, and Matt never sleeping, the guys were running on a ragged edge. Everyone in the Federation knew it, but nobody know what the problem was, or how to stop it. He hoped Matt would talk to him. He genuinely liked the guy. Now really looking at him for the first time in weeks, he was alarmed. Matt looked like he'd lost quite a bit of weight, and face was pale, with purplish circles under his eyes. He seemed a little shaky, and now that he thought about it, he'd seemed like that quite a lot recently. His brows knit, as he scrutinized his friend. God alone knew how much longer they were going to be out here, he hoped they could hold up. He tapped Matt's hand, "Talk to me, Matt, what's going on? What's upsetting you?" Matt sighed. "I don't know really, I'm just tired all the time. And really sick of not being able to go anywhere or do anything. This is kinda like being in jail."
Jay's eyes widened. He wouldn't have thought that. "Matt, we're seeing the world! How is that like jail?" Matt's laugh was bitter, "We aren't seeing anything but the insides of airports, vans, arenas, and hotels. Don't give me that." He was starting to look distressed, and Jay wasn't sure what he should do about it. "You love the job don't you Matt?" Matt nodded, "Yes! Oh yes! But I guess maybe I just want to be able to.don't know. Ignore me." He laughed a little and turned his attention to the TV. Jay followed his lead and settled back, dropping the conversation. He had actually started to drift off, and hour or so later, when a sudden gasp from Matt yanked him awake.
He had to get away from them. It was all too much. There was no dealing with it, not with the way they weren't looking at him, or the way they weren't speaking to him. It wasn't his fault, was it? He hadn't meant it, had he? Maybe he had. He just didn't know. He just knew he hated himself. There was nothing about himself he could live with. They were all right. They hated him now, and he agreed. He glanced at Adam and he averted his eyes. Mental nod, he couldn't even look at him. His own best friend hated him. He couldn't take it anymore; ht couldn't take their non-stares. He slipped away, knowing that they wouldn't come after him. Why look for someone who shouldn't even exist?
He found a bathroom and drifted inside. Cold in here. Smelled like perfume. No matter, who cared? He shut himself into one of the stalls and locked the door. Déjà vu. He'd done this before. Who cared? He dug into his pocket, pulled out two crumpled plastic baggies, and sat down. For the slightest moment, the thought "don't do this" flashed through his mind, barely registered and nowhere near enough to make him stop.
He dumped the contents of the baggies, about two dozen colored tablets and capsules, into his hand, and stopped for a moment, his eyes glazed and unfocused. He mumbled to himself for a moment, perhaps a prayer, and then tipped the tabs into his mouth. He chewed them, swallowed, and sat back, eyes dull. Beyond fear, beyond tears, numb. Waiting. Soon nausea set in and he fought it, he wasn't going to let himself throw tem up. Soon enough it faded, and he began to drift. His last clear impression was the smell of cheap perfume.
He woke up slowly, in stages, slipping from dreams to reality almost imperceptibly. He wasn't really sure when he finally woke up. He just gradually became aware that he was. Clear thought was still beyond him. He was perceiving things in stills. "White," he thought. "Everything's white." The thought didn't connect to anything. He was warm and things were white. He let it be for a little while, not really thinking, and not really waking up any further. He didn't remember anything yet. Things were white. Memory suddenly crashed in on him. Unprepared for the flood or pain, he cried out, and then dissolved into tears, completely unable to cope. Why hadn't they just let him die? His outcry had brought people, and in some faraway corner of his mind, he felt their hands on him, heard their voices, but they belonged elsewhere. They couldn't help him. They couldn't take this away from him. At the mercy of his mind, he never felt the prick of a needle, or noticed when oblivion reached out and took him.
The thing in his arm hurt. He was glad; he deserved it. They told him he was dehydrated, and that he needed the thing, and they went out of their way to make it less painful. He wished they wouldn't. He didn't deserve their consideration. Certainly his friends didn't think so; he hadn't even seen them. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering how it could have come to this. He'd never dreamed......
~six weeks previous~ Matt wondered aimlessly down the hall. He wasn't sure where he was going. He just didn't want to be shut in the room anymore. It had been a long day, and he was tired, but nowhere near unwound enough for sleep. Adam was laid up with a migraine, and had asked Matt to keep the TV off, as well as the light, so he couldn't even read. He smiled to himself, his thoughts ironic. "Here's a thing, I'm reduced to wandering the halls for lack of anything else to do. Such an exciting life I'm leading. Ha." He'd been by the front desk about six times, and the woman behind it was beginning to look at him oddly. He grinned at her on his way by, and she shook her head, then went back to her paperwork. Matt laughed a little. "Bet she thinks I'm nuts."
He began his third swing through the third floor corridor when an idea hit him. He and Adam were good friends with Jay, a coworker. Really, Adam was more his friend than Matt's, but they both spent a fair amount of time in Jay's room watching movies, talking music, and hanging out. Matt had never gone there on his own; he usually tagged along with Adam, but he figured he didn't have much to lose. At worst, he'd have to keep wandering the halls, at best, maybe he could check out a movie.
He jogged back to the front desk, and waited for the clerk to look up. When a few minutes had gone by, and she continued to steadfastly ignore him, he reached out and tapped her arm. "Excuse me?" She glance up, annoyed. She was about sick of looking at him. Her eyebrows raised, she waited to hear whatever it was he thought he had to say to her.
Matt smiled engagingly at her, hoping to thaw her out some. She looked about ready to bite his head off. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you, but can you tell me where Jay Reso's room is?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Don't you think it's a little late for you to be running around to people's rooms?" He laughed. "Nope, we specialize in night work. Trust me, he's up. Please, will you tell me what room he' s in?"
He smiled so winningly that she had no choice but to laugh. She looked up the room number, handed it to him, and shook her head, as she watched him run off down the hall.
Matt's soft knock was answered by a friendly "It's open." He laughed, thinking that one day Jay was gonna get walked in on by god only knew who, and let himself in.
"Hey Matt," Jay's friendly greeting boosted his spirits, which had been at a low. He nodded a greeting, "You busy?" Jay laughed, "Hell no, just trying to figure out which of these ridiculously overpriced pay per view movies to watch. C'mon in and help me pick one out." Matt smiled and plopped himself down on the bed, next to Jay. He glanced at the list in Jay's hand and shrugged. "Hey, whatever you want. I don't care." Jay growled at him, "a lot of good you are. Okay, but I don't want to hear that you don't like it." He programmed in his choice and settled back. "Hey where's Adam?" Matt frowned, and shook his head with a sigh, "He's got another headache, bad one, too. Made him really sick. He kinda kicked everybody out."
Jay's cheerful expression fell, replaced by one of concern. "Another one? Matt that's not good, is anyone doing anything about this?" Matt nodded, "yeah, we've all been checked over. I guess everybody's okay. They said it was stress." Jay snorted, "Stress, yeah, that's what they say when what they mean is 'duh, I dunno'."
Matt snickered, "That's what his mom said too. They gave some of us this, though." He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and handed it to Jay, who read the label with an appreciative whistle, "Valium? Wow, you must be stressed. Good stuff. A hundred million housewives can't be wrong." Matt only smiled faintly. Jay shook his head, "Never mind. Is it helping?" Matt shrugged, "I don't know, not really, it doesn't seem to make much difference. Just makes me a little spacey. I don't take it that much." Jay playfully socked Matt on the arm. "Whatcha got to be stressed about, man? Really, what's a fifteen-hour workday? We all do it. You're young and strong, get over it all ready. And if." He read the prescription bottle, "one tablet every six hours as needed, doesn't work, try two." He handed the bottle back to Matt, who laughed for a moment, but his good humor faded quickly, and he looked at Jay wide eyed and serious. "You have no idea, you know. You really don't have any idea what's been going on." "What has been going on, Matt?"
Jay was concerned. Between Adam's headaches that took him completely off his feet, and Matt never sleeping, the guys were running on a ragged edge. Everyone in the Federation knew it, but nobody know what the problem was, or how to stop it. He hoped Matt would talk to him. He genuinely liked the guy. Now really looking at him for the first time in weeks, he was alarmed. Matt looked like he'd lost quite a bit of weight, and face was pale, with purplish circles under his eyes. He seemed a little shaky, and now that he thought about it, he'd seemed like that quite a lot recently. His brows knit, as he scrutinized his friend. God alone knew how much longer they were going to be out here, he hoped they could hold up. He tapped Matt's hand, "Talk to me, Matt, what's going on? What's upsetting you?" Matt sighed. "I don't know really, I'm just tired all the time. And really sick of not being able to go anywhere or do anything. This is kinda like being in jail."
Jay's eyes widened. He wouldn't have thought that. "Matt, we're seeing the world! How is that like jail?" Matt's laugh was bitter, "We aren't seeing anything but the insides of airports, vans, arenas, and hotels. Don't give me that." He was starting to look distressed, and Jay wasn't sure what he should do about it. "You love the job don't you Matt?" Matt nodded, "Yes! Oh yes! But I guess maybe I just want to be able to.don't know. Ignore me." He laughed a little and turned his attention to the TV. Jay followed his lead and settled back, dropping the conversation. He had actually started to drift off, and hour or so later, when a sudden gasp from Matt yanked him awake.