I am completely alone now.
I knew it was a bad idea to kick Hunter. I knew he would get mad. No matter how many times he said "It doesn't matter what happens," I should have known better. Now, he won't have anything to do with me. The only person I had in this world hates me. Way to go, Shawn. Way to go.
No one has ever cared. No one. If I died right now, they'd just haul my body to some dump and leave it there. I should end it. I have nothing to live for. My friends use me; my family never had anything to do with me. Rebecca left and took both the kids. Neither one wanted to live with dad anyway. I haven't even talked to them since they left. Every time I called they were always "too busy" to talk.
I can't even count how many days I've sat in my truck, looking out the window at a liquor store, wondering if I should just find the next bridge and drive off it. Sometimes, most times, that seems like the only solution.
I stand up and get ready to drive back to the hotel. I grab my duffel bag and head out to the parking lot. On my way I pass Skylar, one of the newest Divas. She and her twin sister Andrea (who's been wrestling here longer), had a tag match with the Bella Twins, that, I'm guessing, just got finished. She's heading back to the girls locker room, sweat dripping over her caramel toned skin.
"Hey Shawn," she said, smiling up at me. She'd surprised me every since she got here. Andy hated me, with a deadly passion, like most of the Divas here, due to my bad reputation involving me, Hunter, and the countless amounts of girls we'd screwed over. But Skye had always been nice, saying hi to me and Hunter every time she passed us, even stopping sometimes to have a quick conversation. She always smiled too, even when some of the other girls, notably Kelly Kelly, were being bitchy.
"Just so you know, I think you were right in what you did out there," she said, still smiling up at me. "Hunter told you no matter what, y'all would still be friends. And on top of that, it was for the Championship. You'd be stupid to pass up that opportunity."
"Uh, thanks, Skye," I said scratching my head.
"So, you're heading out?" she asked, scooping her dark hair off her neck.
"Yeah, back to the hotel."
"Cool. You should rest up. Y'all fought hard tonight. I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, she leaned up and wrapped her arms around me in a huge bear hug.
"Sorry," she said, pulling back. "Didn't mean to get you all sweaty again. Night Shawn."
I watched her walk away. I don't know what to make of her niceness. My guess is that she's playing some kind of sick joke. There's no way she really believes that.
As she disappears behind a door, I hear someone clear their throat behind me. I turn back around and see The Undertaker, or Uncle Mark as Andy and Skye called him (not sure how that works out), and he's giving me a glare that would send shivers to the sun itself.
"Look Mark, I wasn't-"
"Stay away from her," he said. "I mean it, Michaels."
"She's eight years younger than me, Mark."
"And that's stopped you before?" he snorted. "Don't let me catch you around her. The last thing she needs is a friend like you."
With that he turned and walked off. I honestly wasn't scared. I'd been beaten up by Mark before, and I don't just mean in the ring. Yeah it hurt, but when you thrive on pain, it's a welcome confrontation.
I climb into my car and set off toward the Marriot. I consider, as I always do, getting into an "accident" and ending it all; the pain, the heartache, the loneliness. But something keeps me holding on and I make it there safe, at least for one more night.