*** I must reiterate that this series will be extremely angsty and all. Especially the first seven chapters. Also, I don't know if I put it, but I own none of the wrestlers, I don't own the WWF, and I don't own the songs. This song is "Day in the Life" by the Beatles. ***

// I read the news today oh, boy

About a lucky man who made the grade //

It might be easier to die. It might be easier to hold a gun to your head and just blow your miserable life away. It might be easier than pretending that everything is just peachy.

It might be easier for me to live if thoughts like this weren't constantly running through my head. I go to stand in Hurricane's or Spike's corner and I think that if I get involved and something went wrong, everything would just be done. I would be done.

And I think that would be easier than living in my skin. It would be easier than parading around on the arm of whatever guy happens to care about me at the moment. It's hard to keep them interested though. Especially when you have a death wish, like I seem to anymore.

// And though the news was rather sad

Well I just had to laugh and

I saw the photograph //

If you asked anyone who knew me that I could actually think of things like death on a regular basis, they would probably laugh at you. I mean I'm almost inclined to laugh. I might laugh, if it didn't require so much energy.

The thing is, none of my friends or family really know me. They all think I'm really this happy-go-lucky girl who only sees the best in life. I'm the complete opposite of that coin. There is nothing left in my soul that is happy. Nothing that looks for the good.

It's not that I relish what is wrong with the world, it's just all I see anymore. I look for the shades of gray. On a good day, a day where suicide seems completely unreasonable, I see things that border on good. Less bad in any case. But there is so much evil in this world, it's hard to survive with any sense of right or wrong anyways.

Maybe that's what is wrong with me. I can actually discern right from wrong and it's driving me crazy.

// He blew his mind out in a car

He didn't notice that the lights had changed //

I do think I'm crazy. I mean, normal people do not think that the easiest thing for everyone would be if they died. It's a completely morbid and sick thought. But I really can't help it. It's not like I ask for this sense of darkness and disgust that seems to haunt me.

I even dream about all of the evil that is out there. It's not that I'm evil, but I'm deathly afraid of being tempted by it. I'm afraid of hurting anyone that I care about. I haven't killed myself yet, so I do the next best thing to ensure that I don't hurt anyone. I push them away.

There was a reason I let Hurricane brainwash me into becoming his sidekick. Aside from actually seeing good in the man, I was actually starting to really care about Spike. I couldn't cause him pain. And me just dumping him and letting him find somebody who isn't completely deranged and paranoid is better than me staying with him and actually making him my victim.

// A crowd of people stood and stared

They'd seen his face before,

Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords. //

The saddest reason is that I have no reason to hate the life I live, to hate the mind I live inside of. By all accounts, I should be the picture of happiness and health. I have a family that really does care about me. I've had a boyfriend that actually loved me. I was friends with a number of good people. I've never been poor. My parents never beat me. Hell, I managed to break into the WWF. My life should make me happy.

The doctors have told me all of my thoughts are due to severe clinical depression. And then they prescribe more drugs. Most of them just make me hazy and tired and I hate that, so I stop taking them.

Then I remember why I started taking them in the first place. But after I've stopped I just can't motivate myself to start again. So I wait it out, until I convince myself to go see another psychiatrist. They give me more drugs, but they never seem to understand. They can't see that I'm crawling in my skin and the only thing I look forward to is leaving this world.

// I saw a film today oh, boy

The English army had just won the war //

"Molly?" Hurricane asked, peering into the room. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, even though I had my head in my heads and I was ready to burst into sobs. "I'll be right out."

"Take your time," Hurricane said.

He's really very sweet. Probably too sweet to be stuck with me. I don't think he would understand if he ever found out about me. He thinks I'm just the sweetest thing that ever walked the earth. He's confident that I will always have his back.

Part of me wishes that I could always have his back. He doesn't expect a whole hell of a lot from me. He just likes me for some inexplicable reason. The more time I spend with him, the less I understand.

I feel like there is this war inside of myself. One way pulling me towards a normal life, where I actually let people close to me. The other side tells me that it's best to just remain isolated and not let anyone matter.

// A crowd of people turned away

But I just had a look

Having read the book,

I'd love to turn you on... //

There was one person who found out about me. He found out that I was clinically depressed anyways. He was the strangest person that could have ever found out about it really.

I bumped into him, because I wasn't watching out. "Sorry," I said as I bent down to pick up the items that had fallen out of my purse.

"It's okay," he said, helping me pick things up. "It's Molly, right?"

"Yeah, Molly Holly," I said, standing up to meet the man I had ran into.

"Kurt Angle," he said, smiling at me as he offered me some of the items I had dropped. "It's a pleasure."

"Thanks," I said, unsure of how to treat this man. I had just become friends with Spike and it was well-known that he wasn't the best of friends with my family. "You too."

"Hey, I won't bite," Kurt said. "I know I'm not always the nicest person, but on occasion I can be surprising."

He bent down and he picked up an orange bottle that held prescription pills. He read the label and then looked at me quizzically.

// Woke up, fell out of bed,

Dragged a comb across my head //

"Hydrazine sulfate?" he asked, his face seeming very confused.

"It's um, not mine," I lied.

"And it says Molly Holly on the label because?" Kurt asked, pointing to my name on the label.

"Okay," I sighed, "they are mine."

"I figured," he said.

"They are just anti-depressants," I said, like it was no big deal.

"They are MAOIs," Kurt said. "I mean, Prozac would be safer. You can get really bad side effects from these."

"How do you know that?" I asked, mystified by the fact that Kurt actually seemed to care about my mental stability.

"Family stuff," Kurt shrugged. "Are you okay Molly?"

"As okay as I can be," I shrugged.

// Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,

And looking up I noticed I was late. //

"Does Vince know about this?" Kurt asked, lightly shaking the vial before he handed it back to me.

"No," I said. "No one knows. You can't tell anyone."

"What about your cousins?" Kurt asked. "And that little Dudley wimp?"

"No one knows Kurt," I said. I heard the desperation in my own voice. "Please, please don't tell anyone."

"Molly," Kurt said. "You shouldn't deal with this alone."

"I've done fine so far," I said, snatching the bottle from his hand. "It would just hurt them and I don't want to hurt them anymore."

"I doubt that you hurt anyone," Kurt said.

"But I might," I answered.

"Fine," Kurt said. "I won't tell anyone. But promise to come to me if you ever need someone to talk to."

"Sure," I said, never intending to take him up on his offer.

// Found my coat and grabbed my hat

Made the bus in seconds flat

Found my way upstairs and had a smoke,

Somebody spoke and I went into a dream //

"Why don't you stay here?" Hurricane asked, peering around the door again.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you seem like you aren't feeling well," he replied. "Take a rest."

"Thanks Hurricane," I said, smiling at him. He makes me believe there is good hidden somewhere in this world. And if I stay around much longer I have a feeling I would destroy that good.

I can't keep hopping from guy to guy, hoping none of them will ever come to care about me. Hoping I can keep them at arms length. Trying to keep that evil I know is out there from attacking me. But I'm not exactly sure how to do it.

There is only one way to keep from hurting people.

// I read the news today oh boy

Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire //

"I can do this," I said to myself, digging through my duffel bag. "I can do this."

When I couldn't find the small item I had been looking for I started to panic. I could do this now. I had the strength at that moment. If I didn't find it soon I wouldn't be able to do it, probably ever.

Pills. I could use pills instead. But I had thrown the last of those down the toilet when they made me all hazy and lethargic. "Damn it!"

I grabbed my duffel bag and threw the contents on the floor of my dressing room. I didn't notice the tears that were coming out of my eyes, streaming down my cheeks.

"There!" I exclaimed, overjoyed because I had found what I wanted. The razor was like an idol for me to worship. I held it in the palm of my hands, like it was some delicate flower.

I walked to the bathroom and stood by the sink. I ran my finger across the edge to test its sharpness. Droplets of blood appeared on the tip of my finger.

"Now or nothing," I said, holding the razor against the skin of my wrist.

// And though the holes were rather small

They had to count them all, //

There was something exciting about the way the razor felt against my skin. It was like I was finally actually fighting against the evil I hated so much. All I wanted was to run it across my skin.

It barely cut anything. It was painful as hell though. I guess in my mind I always pictured it as being a painless, self-sacrificing act. I guess something that is self-sacrificing can never be painless.

"I can do this," I said again. It was my mantra all of a sudden. My reason for living was to show that I could die.

I placed the razor against my wrist again and prepared to slice it across my wrist. I was ready for this. The other side couldn't be worse than this world that has no good in it.

But my brain screamed, "What about Hurricane? What about Spike?"

I closed my eyes against the tears. I had to do this. I had to prove I was strong. A strong person would be able to do this.

And his eyes flashed through my mind's eye.

// Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall, //

"Yeah?" Kurt asked as he answered my knock on his dressing room door. His eyes widened with shock. They were so blue and true in that moment. "Molly?"

"Can I come in?" I asked weakly. I was weak because I was losing blood. Apparently I had cut fairly deeply with the safety razor I had used.

"Yeah," he said, ushering me into his room. "Are you okay?"

"I'm so weak," I said. "I couldn't do it."

His eyes suddenly latched upon my left wrist that I had wrapped in a t- shirt. "Molly? What did you do to yourself?"

"If I had been strong, I would have been able to finish," I said.

He grabbed my arm and unwrapped it. "Holy shit!"

"I should have finished," I said, trying to pull away from him.

"No," he said. "A strong person chooses life Molly. A strong person finds a reason to live, if simply to prove that they are strong."

"So tired," I said, nearly falling. I remember him catching me and then I remember his strong arms banding around me.

"Molly," he whispered. "Don't you dare do this. Live for me. I need you to live for me. I'll go crazy if you give up."

"I don't know," I whispered against his shoulder. I remember him holding me tighter.

And then I remember nothing at all.

// I'd love to turn you on... //