Rating: PG-13 (angst, language, suicide, character death)
Disclaimer: E&C don't belong to me- apparently Santa didn't get my Christmas list. All lyrics copyright of Creed (gotta love that angsty Scott Stapp) Used without permission.
**Edge**
Downstairs, the doorbell rang again and I groaned and buried myself deeper under the sheets. Whoever the hell it was, they were just gonna have to come back later. Like in another month or two. This was without a doubt the worst damn holiday season I'd ever had, and I wasn't in any kind of mood to entertain guests. Probably just a vacuum cleaner salesman going door to door anyway. It's not like I actually had any friends left to come calling. My own brother- Christian, Rhyno, Kurt, hell even Jericho, had all turned their backs on me in one way or another.
The idiot downstairs stopped ringing the bell and started banging on the door.
"Fuck!" I swore and turned over in bed, prying my eyes open to look at the clock. Who the hell was pounding on my front door at nine o'clock in the morning on New Years Day? I stumbled out of bed and tripped over the sweaty sheets that were still wrapped around my legs. The pounding downstairs grew more insistent, so did the pounding in my head. I had welcomed in 2002 by sitting all alone in my dark house quietly drinking myself into oblivion, I couldn't even remember making it upstairs to my bed, but obviously I had. More banging on the door, more banging in my head.
"I'm coming," I grumbled to myself, trying to convince my uncooperative body to move.
I untangled the sheets from my ankles and legs and finally made it downstairs, tripping only twice more, before my sleep and drink fogged mind finally managed to communicate to me that I had no clothes on. I swore under my breath some more and grabbed a towel from the downstairs linen closet to wrap around my waist.
"This had goddam well better be important," I snarled as I opened the door, then stood in shock as I saw who was standing there. Of all the fucking nerve- I slammed the door shut in Christian's face, and he immediately began pounding on it again, simultaneously ringing the doorbell. I shut my eyes and covered my ears, groaning. It felt like a freight train was thundering through my head.
"God, I'll never drink again, just please, make him stop," I pleaded. Christian continued banging away and then began shouting through the door. I lowered my hands from my ears in defeat and ripped the door open again.
"What the hell do you want?" I asked my little brother.
"Edge, please. I need to talk to you." His eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles under them. His hair was a dirty, greasy mess. He looked worse than I felt. Good- I hope he felt worse than he looked.
"What is it Christian? Mom have another 'accident'?" I asked, not bothering to conceal the dripping sarcasm in my voice. He appeared to flinch from my anger, which shocked me enough to shut me up and make me take a better look at him. His head was hung low, his clothes were wrinkled and dirty enough to convince me he had been wearing them for a couple days without washing them, and the sour smell of stale beer and whiskey convinced me he had not washed himself in at least as long. He looked- to borrow one of J.R.'s phrases- like a scalded dog. I almost reached for him, instinctively wanting to reach out and comfort my baby brother whom I had protected most of our lives, but in an instant I recalled who I was dealing with. 'He's not your brother anymore,' I chided myself. I didn't have a brother anymore. This was a ruthless, conniving, cold-hearted stranger.
I wanted nothing to do with him, now or ever again, and started to tell him so when he pulled something from behind his back. I warily stepped back into a defensive guard position, ready to knock the shit out of him if tried anything again. He held out a small, flat parcel wrapped in cheerful Christmas paper. There was an envelope taped to the top.
"You left the Christmas dinner so fast, I didn't have a chance to give you these," he told me in a quiet voice.
I just stared at him. Did he think I was that gullible? If I reached for the box, he would probably attack me, or some of his cronies would jump out of the bushes and gang up on me. I might not know him like I used to, but I know he has a devious little mind and I wasn't going to fall for anymore of his tricks. I didn't make a move for the package and we just stood there frozen like that for a minute. His blue eyes clouded over with what may have been disappointment and he gave a tiny sigh. He bent over and laid the package and card carefully at my feet. When he straightened up, I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but he turned away so quickly I couldn't be sure. As he walked away, he called over his shoulder.
"Just open it, please. We've never missed giving each other gifts for Christmas."
I watched him as he walked down the drive to where his car was parked, still not making a move to get the box. He reached his car and opened the door, turning to look at me one last time before getting in.
"Merry Christmas, Edge," he said in a voice so soft that I wasn't even sure I really heard him. Then he climbed in his car and drove away.
I don't know how long I stood there in my doorway, just staring down at his gift, the cold Ontario wind tugging at my hair and turning my skin blue. I shivered in my towel, finally realizing that I had better come in or risk pneumonia. Maybe that was his plan. I reached down and grabbed the box, still staring at it as if it might suddenly sprout fangs.
I stared at the gift some more once I got it inside, guiltily realizing Christian was right. Since he was five years old every year without fail we had saved all our money and bought gifts for each other. I hadn't even considered it this year. I dumped the box on the kitchen table and tried to push the guilt away- of course I hadn't considered it, after all the shit he had done to me last year. The only gift I wanted to give him was another conchairto to his thick skull. I tried to push the box out of mind and go on with a normal day, but every time I passed it, the cheerful wrapping paper would catch my eye. Curiosity finally got the better of me late that evening and after I pulled the envelope from the top of the box, I ripped the paper from the box and opened the lid gingerly. I'm not sure what I was expecting- a poisonous snake, a voodoo doll with my name on it, the head of a dead horse? It was just two photographs in a simple hinged frame.
I bit my lip, tears coming to my eyes. One picture was of me and Christian grinning with our arms around each other. I was wearing a goofy Santa hat and he was wearing a goofier reindeer antler hat. I smiled, remembering that Christmas. Our first together after joining forces in the WWF and going out on our own. We were standing in front of the new house we had bought each other for Christmas, the same house I was still living in, in fact. The picture in the other frame was from a Christmas Eve much longer ago. It was me at three years old, sitting in my mom's lap in front of the tree, Dad with his arm around her and my small little hand on her tummy, where I knew my soon to be born baby brother was waiting.
I was too young to remember that, of course, but I had heard the story so often growing up that it seemed like an actual memory. Dad had asked me what I wanted Santa to bring me for Christmas, and I told him the only thing I wanted was a brother to play with. Dad said he wasn't sure if Santa could manage that, since Mom had been told many years ago that she would never be able to have children. They had tried for three years before she finally had me, and they certainly had never expected to be able to have more. Then Mom said that it would be a few months late, but Santa would bring me a baby brother. Dad's face had lit up like the Christmas tree- it was the first time he had heard the news, and that sappy story had kept the entire family 'awwing' for years. Grandma Edna insisted on retelling it every Christmas dinner to Christian and I.
I opened the envelope and pulled out what was just a hastily scrawled note:
You know where.
I did know where. I glanced at my watch- already five past eight, and it would take me ten minutes to get there, assuming I even wanted to trust him one last time, which I wasn't sure I did. I sat at the table with my head in my hands, looking back and forth from the pictures to the note. What was he up to now? Hadn't he humiliated me enough, hurt me enough? Part of me had died inside when he turned on me; I wondered if he could even understand that no amount of physical torment he could serve up would ever hurt as bad as the pain I had felt when he left me. He had already broken my heart; maybe he just wouldn't be satisfied until he had broken my body as well. Screw him. I stood up and poured myself a drink, thinking I would just stay drunk off my ass until I had to go back to work on Thursday's live Smackdown.
[Who's Got My Back?]Run...hide
All that was sacred to us...
See the signs
The covenant has been broken
By mankind
Leaving us with no shoulder...
To rest our head on...
Who's got my back now?
When all we have left is deceptive
So disconnected
So what is the truth now?
There's still time
All that has been devastated
Can be recreated
Realize
We pick up the broken pieces
Of our lives
Giving ourselves to each other...
To rest our head on...
Who's got my back now?
When all we have left is deceptive
So disconnected
So what is the truth now?
Tell me the truth now...Tell us the truth now