A/N: A new story, & I know I've been quite away for sometime, but that doesn't mean I'm 100% through with writing new stories, as well as updating the current ones like Castle Walls. So no, I'm not done yet. As far as this goes, I've been inspired to write something on the lines of 'crazy, kind of psychotic, suspense, supernatural & horror' kind of story [wow that was quite a mouthful]. To tell you the truth, this will be more on the supernatural/suspense genre, so don't be so surprised.
Yes, there will be romance. The dark, mysterious, Randy Orton meets the beautiful, smart, Kelly Blank. & As much as some of you may like Taylor Swift, no, this fic is not based off her song. I thought the title was quite fitting for a story like this so I went with it.
The setting takes place in New Jersey, in an abandoned made up part of town that I randomly came up with, called Linden Pines. There's a bit of background information of this made up part of town that I created for the sake of creating the right atmosphere, and then it will lead up to the real plot of the story.
"Many try to bury the sins of the past. But if you deny them, pretend they never happened, wish them all away, they will come back to the surface a million times stronger."
Ranse Truman, "Surfacing", The Suffering
Lindenwold, New Jersey, at least to most people, was known for it's bad reputation. The people living there would tell you the public school systems, the people, the crime, was pretty bad, and sure, the only upside to living in the small town was the seemingly nice weather, but none of the town's bad reputation compared to the town living behind the Lindenwold border.
In an abandoned part of New Jersey, somewhere located off the border of Lindenwold, there was a building that stood alone on top of a hill. The large sign that indicated a traveler's whereabouts was broken completely in half, the left half of the sign was dirty, and it stood up-right, in a pile of dried up mud. If you were to put the pieces of the sign together, physically, or in your mind, the sign would read 'Linden Pines.'
Take the bad reputation in Lindenwold, multiply it by 10, and you get Linden Pines. Anyone living in this town would tell you that you're a lot better off living inside the border away from the Pines. Crime in Lindenwold was tolerable, medoicore at best, but compare it to living in the Pines last for a week, and you'll be moving away from the town in a fluster, screaming about how crime in Linden Pines is insufferable.
The people who managed to tolerate living in the Pines, were stuck up. No one was able to leave Linden Pines in a quiet, peaceful matter, not without those stuck up bastards, screaming about how weak you were for not being able tolerate living in this town.
Who would want to live around people who were condescending toward you all the time? Who would want to live around people who treated this town as if this is survival of the fittest, where only the strong survive? Not anyone. But in Linden Pines, it mind as well be survival of the fittest.
However, on top of this town's bad reputation, like a cherry on top of ice cream, was the facility that stood on the hill. The building could at first be mistaken as a rich, mansion, but up close, you could see that this 'mansion' looks more so like a asylum.
And an asylum it is - a mental asylum called The Institute.
The Gothic architecture of The Institute was rich, and styled by the McMahon's years ago. It was built, and created by Roderick McMahon, the first of the McMahon family line that ran the asylum for years before it was gradually passed down to each McMahon, every death, or every retirement. It was once a successful institution, that would shape up, even the craziest of men and women.
The Institute was successful for many years - until a particular death shut down the facility.
No one knew the story behind the death's, all but maybe one person.
There was an investigation into the death of Bob Orton Jr, a well-known researcher turned patient of The Institute. He was thrown into the asylum once he uncovered some crazy, supernatural story that no one believed, and as far as his death was concerned, it was determined as a suicide, as there was no evidence that supported the possibility of him being murdered.
So after a few years of being closed down, The Institute, though rotten from being unused for a couple of years, was open again.
Till this day, The Institute remains known as a mental facility notorious for their harsh methods, harsh methods that normally resulted in mysterious disappearances, and killings, though most people inhabiting the building, whether it be a patient, staff or a doctor, didn't know anything about that.
If Randy took a wild guess, he would say that maybe, perhaps maybe a few staff, and one patient out of the entire building, knew of the Institutes past. He was one of those patients. The McMahon family owned The Institute, and with all of their money, it would be quite easy for them to make the past, all of the blood, disappear.
It wouldn't be hard to do it, if they tried - Randy thought bitterly. Fucking sheeple, he thought, these people are so easily blinded by the bullshit that's thrown in the face, they aren't willing to look close enough to find the real truth.
Randy's a patient currently serving his time in the Institute. He didn't believe he was crazy, only that he had anger management issues, and sure, there's a history of it, but he had no trouble at all keeping his cool until that blasted day in the bar.
...
It was a dreadful day in Linden Pines, it's not like it was always sunny out, Randy thought bitterly, because it never was. He remembered himself storming out of his house one day, after a heated argument with his wife Samantha, about his father's death. She confronted him about digging too much into his father's death, and she feared that something may happened to him if he became a man that knew too much.
Like he gave a damn about what might happen to him, Randy thought. As selfish as that may sound, he didn't care, because he deserved the right to know what REALLY happened to his father.
And as much as he would like to let it go because his wife asked him too, he couldn't. He couldn't sleep - couldn't move forward with his life unless he knew the truth about his father's death.
He refused to believe it was a suicide. Refused.
Why would a fucking institution close down after a 'suicide' anyway? It was one suicide, not two or three. Any other institution, would've kept running after just one suicide, not close down, unexpectedly. It was - just too hard to believe that his Dad committed suicide out of the blue, and that The Institute just shut down right after that.
It seemed fishy, and Randy didn't like it one bit.
And on top of that, however, it wasn't too long ago where Randy found out that the material his Dad discovered had something to do with the origins of The Institute, and with that knowledge, it only doubled his suspicions, that perhaps his father's death was no suicide.
He didn't know, and he vowed that he would find out soon, but right now, he wanted to drink himself into oblivion. He wanted to forget about this stupid town, that stupid institution... stupid everything!
He stormed into a place called The Underground, a bar established by his friend, John, and it became a place of escape for the young man. He was fine until a strange man approached him, and started to talk about Sam.
"Hey, I know your old lady, fucking nice rack - wouldn't mind a piece of that. What I hear, she's up for it."
"Watch what you are saying to my friends!" It was John, who all but screamed at the mere stranger in Randy's defense. "You're in my place - and you're going to show some respect to a man with a family."
"Please," Randy said simply. "Don't put my wife and kid into this. I'm really not in the mood."
"Oh that fucking whore you married to you mean? How you even know that kid is yours?"
And that was the end of it, Randy flew into a blind fit of rage, and pummeled the guy. He would have killed him if John hadn't hopped over the counter to stop his friend from opening up the guy's brain matter all over his brand new floor.
...
And that was how Randy Orton ended up behind the Institute walls. Even now, as he gets hauled away by two security officers for breaking into their filing office again, he has no regrets - even at the cost of his marriage with Samantha, he will never have any regrets.
It was selfish - and it was crazy to see how obsessed he became with the truth, but if he had to be thrown in this damned place to learn what was what, then so be it, he didn't really give a damn, being locked in the Institute walls, and living in Linden Pines... it makes no difference, ... death is everywhere.
"Fucking ridiculous this is, this is the second time today that you've been giving us a problem, Orton." Hunter, Head Security of the Institute said while spitting in his face in utter disgust.
"When are you going to learn? Honestly, - I don't know how you're able to survive being in isolation, you damn fool!" It was Shane who spoke next, Hunter's brother-in-law, and one of the main people who ran the Institute in a 24-7 basis, him and his father, Vince McMahon, and sister, Stephanie McMahon.
Shane and Hunter took care of most of the issues here, though Randy felt like Shane had no place to tell him what to do, for everything that was done to make this goddamn place successful was done by his father. His children on the other hand? They've done nothing to earn the rights to run this place.
Truthfully, if there names weren't McMahon then they would've been tossed to the curb a long time ago, but because of that reason, for them having the name, McMahon, everything was handed to them on a silver platter. Vince had ran The Institute for years, and then what? Just decides to hand over his control to his spoiled children with no reason?
No wonder his children were spoiled brats.
Hunter on the other hand, he was different. Randy gave him his proper respect for his well-contributed ways to help make this place successful, he was head of security, and he was Vince's right hand man, but Vince's bastard children deserved nothing from him.
When he heard that he was being thrown into isolation, he almost wanted to smile in amusement, particularly at Shane for making the remark. Randy hasn't been here long enough, he's been here for one week, and out of that week he's been in isolation, 3 times, and it hasn't once cracked him in the slightest bit.
It was amazing, everyone thought, that for such a short amount of time, Randy already became a pain in the ass for the staff and doctors. Randy could imagine what everyone else must be saying about him - that he was insane for going to great lengths to finding out the truth about his Dad.
To be thrown in isolation, was absolutely bananas!
Give a patient two nights in isolation, lock them inside with nothing but padded ceiling walls, and floors, and nobody there but yourself and the darkness, and he'd be driven nearly to madness. Give him two more nights, and he'd kill himself. That's how it usually goes, but for Randy, he swore to himself that he would not be like the others, and for some strange reason, he'd grown comfortable to the eerie silences, and the solitude.
He trained himself, his mind, to survive the nights in isolation. He came to Institute, not only to serve his time out for the fight, and have doctors treat him, and teach him to control his anger, but he came for a purpose.
They can keep throwing me in here all they want - I won't let this place beat me, He thought to himself, as he was thrown into the said padding cell. The two men shook his head at him, and Shane whispered something into Hunter's ear, before walking off.
"You're son of Junior, aren't you?"
"You're just now noticing?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. If Hunter looked bothered at all by his sarcasm, he didn't let it break his stoic mask.
"He lasted for two months. If you keep this up you know, you won't even survive one. You won't see the break of day with this behavior, just these walls - and just because you lasted 3 nights in here, doesn't mean you'll last a week."
"We'll see about that." He said, as his icy blue eyes squinted at the head of security. "What are you going to do, Hunter? Keep me in here forever? Till I die? Like father like son right?"
Hunter hesitated, and Randy was on him like a cat pouncing on his prey. "You don't know anything, kid. Not about what happened with your Dad." Hunter said sternly.
"Yeah? But I get a feeling that you do."
There was an intense silence, and Hunter, with low growl in his throat, glared at him. "Just get your shit together," And then he walked out, slamming the door on him, and leaving Randy in the darkness. Clearly, anyone who worked inside the Institute walls knew what happened to his father, at least - people like Hunter or maybe Vince, so it's no surprise to him that Hunter would back pedal at avoiding discussing the matter of his father's death.
Sooner or later, The Institute, it's origins, their sins, and the matter of his father's death will come back to haunt them all - because everyone knows that what's done in the dark, always comes to the light.
A/N: Clearly, there's a matter of mystery going on here. What happened to Randy's Dad? That, along with the history that you will learn will be the main drive of this story. Kelly will make her entrance perhaps... in the next chapter maybe? Who knows?
This is an intro, told sort of through Randy's eyes, Chapter 2, and onwards (unless I say so otherwise) will be through Kelly's eyes.
Keep or delete? I'm actually willing to write this story, so... I might just keep it. But what do you guys think?