Chapter 3: Matt Hardy

It was past midnight and my head was throbbing from all the music and bright flashing lights I had to suffer through at The Angel's Lounge. Jeff was right – this place was one of the best clubs in the city, but you'd have one hell of a headache afterwards. I massaged my right temple as I made my way through dozens of half-naked, sweaty bodies bumping and grinding against each other as if all these filthy sluts needed each other's body heat to survive or something. The only thing this place inspired was hot, sweaty sex with people you didn't even know. I'd been witness to it for years. In fact, I remember watching Jeff fuck around with some twink named Chris. All that blonde hair was nearly ripped from his pretty, little head and he was screaming so loud I thought the entire club would soon tune in to watch. If anyone were to ask me, that boy really was an angel. Wish I'd had him for myself, but Jeff was the lucky one that night.

Speaking of the little rainbow sumbitch, I spotted him on one of the round platforms where the stripper poles were. He was laughing his ass off while he danced and swayed with a dark-haired dancer known as The Shaman. My eyes nearly fell out of my face when I saw how well that man could bend and twirl around that pole like he was made of rubber. I adjust my pants a little bit as I approached the platform, squinting against all the glowing bright lights lighting up the tanned beauty in neon green spandex. "Jeff!" I shouted above the booming loud music. "Jeff, it's time to go, man! Get your drunk ass down from there!"

"No fucking way, bro!" Jeff shouted back, his words slurred. Yeah..he was definitely drunk as usual. "I'm taking this bitch home!"

The Shaman gave Jeff a disapproving look before dropping into a Chinese split directly in front of me, flaunting his long, well-toned legs right in my face. I swallowed hard as I took in the holy sight, shaking away the forsaken thoughts that'd blossomed in my mind. "Oh, my God." I shuddered inwardly, feeling the urge to take the Shaman right on the pole. "Jeff, seriously. You're drunk as fuck!"

"I ain't drunk, Matt! You're always tryin' to embarrass me, man! For the love of God, them ain't my pink drawls!"

I squinted in confusion at him. Jesus Christ. He's worse than I thought. I hated having to lay hands on him while he was piss drunk but it didn't look like there was another option for the moment. Sighing and rolling my eyes, I climbed up onto the platform, receiving a harsh glare from the gorgeous dancer in response.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, bro?" He frowned hard at me, moving to the opposite side of the pole.

"Damnit, Matt! You're scaring him away!" Jeff immediately stopped his dancing and flailed his arms up at me.

"Don't give me that bull shit, Jeff!" I jabbed my finger at him as soon as I gained my footing. The whole damn platform was flashing like Christmas lights. I didn't see how The Shaman could last five minutes up here without catching a damn migraine. "Now, get down from here! We're goin' home now." I reached for his arm, but he only pulled away from me, nearly losing balance and falling right off the other side of the platform.

"Hey!" The Shaman suddenly got in my face, forgetting about the entire show. "Is there a problem here?"

"Look, buddy, you better focus on your dancin' or I'll have to lay hands on a bitch." I threatened him, not exactly expecting the answer I received.

"Bitch!" The Shaman's fist instantly crashed against my jaw and I stumbled back some steps, nearly falling from the platform. I heard Jeff explode into laughter beside me and that was when my anger exploded and before I knew it, I was running at him. I slammed all of my weight into him, tackling him clean across the platform. We fell a lot farther than I had expected, hit the floor where the crowd had turned to watch.

"You stupid whore!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as my fists came raining down on the Shaman's face. I knew I'd gotten into the fight because each time I said a word, a punch landed on his face to go with it. "If. You. Ever. Touch. Me. Again!"

"Get 'im, Matty! Get 'im, Matty! Yeah! YEAH!" Jeff cheered from the platform.

I didn't even notice the huge crowd gathering around us as I hammered the shit out of the Shaman's face. That was until I felt a pair of big arms grab me from behind and yank me off the little twink with such force I felt the wind come out of me. I squirmed violently against whoever was pulling me back, kicking my legs out like some wild animal. "Let me go! Let me go!" I yelled, spit flying from my mouth. But I was being hauled farther and farther away from The Shaman the more I fought my restraint. "Let me at the little bitch!"

The Shaman rolled to his feet, stumbling a bit as he glared evilly at me, one hand covering his nose, blood soaking his bare chest. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He was cussing me the fuck out with those eyes of his.

"Where ya goin', Matty? The fight's not over." Jeff called like the imbecile he was, jumping down off the platform to come after me. Oh, now you wanna come down, you son of a bitch.

"Both of y'all are gettin' the fuck outta here!" A deep voice boomed behind me. Must've been a damn security guard. Boy was I in trouble.

I was still eyeballing the Shaman like I was plotting to kill him when he flipped two birds at me. By then, the security guard had just kicked open the side door of the club and tossed me out like a sack of rotten meat. He didn't have to man-handle Jeff because the deuchebag was running to pick me up off the ground.

"Fucking hell." I grunted, staggering to my feet. I heard the door slam shut behind Jeff and when I looked up at him, he had his arms folded across his chest, tapping his foot impatiently at me. "Oh, what so suddenly you're not drunk anymore?" I flailed my arms up, giving him a crazy, wide-eyed stare.

"I was just acting, Matt. Y'know? Having fun?" Jeff sighed in annoyance and shook his head at me. "I thought you would've been able to tell."

"What! Why the fuck would you act like you're drunk, Jeff?"

"I don't know, Matt. I just wanted to get close to John."

"Who?"

"John Morrison. That was the stripper's name."

I rolled my eyes and turned my back on him, looking up and down the dark, damp alley we'd been thrown in. I could hear sirens ringing from somewhere in the distance, but that was not what suddenly worried me about this place. What worried me were the moving shadows I noticed here and there. "Come on, let's get outta here, Jeff." I said, hiding the nervousness behind a solid tone.

"What's the rush?" Jeff asked nonchalantly. The smell of smoke had suddenly drifted into my nostrils and I turned, only to see that he'd lit himself a cigarette and had it tucked between his glossy lips. That was quick. "We have absolutely nowhere to be right now. Nowhere."

I could tell he was viciously angry with me, even though the essence of his tone was calm and collected. I decided not to get on his case about the cigarette. "I just don't like it out here. It's cold and there's way too many goddamn gangbangers for my liking."

Jeff blew a smoke ring from his mouth and rolled his eyes. "Pussy..." He muttered, walking toward the entrance of the alley.

I followed him after looking over my shoulders twice. For some odd reason, I suddenly started to feel as though we were being watched or something. I realized we weren't alone in the alley. Others entering and leaving the night club were present, but the chilling feeling pricked at my skin anyhow. I walked a bit faster to keep up with Jeff, tucking my hands into my jeans pockets. It wasn't long before I started to see my own breath in the air with almost every exhalation. It was nights like these when I wished I was at home, tucked under some covers, or standing under shower water, reflecting on life. You know...safe. But nowadays I can't enjoy those luxuries. I'm stuck watching after my sick brother. That's right. Sick. Not crazy.

We were both silent. Jeff was probably thinking about that stripper named John Morrison. The little horn dog. For some reason he could never like a normal, sophisticated man. It was always some low-class whore like...John Morrison.

"Matt." Jeff's voice interrupted my train of thought.

I looked up at him, not able to respond before I noticed the concerned frown on his face. He was staring straight ahead, his attention caught by something. I followed his gaze after mimicking his expression, and soon discovered why. There was a man standing in the mouth of the alley, completely centered so that our attention was focused on him and nothing else. He was huge. Probably about seven feet and the scarlet trench coat hanging from his broad shoulders made him appear even taller. The closer we walked toward him, the more I noticed that he was staring right back at us. But his expression was not as curious as ours were. Instead, he wore a predatory glare that sent shivers up my spine. I swallowed and tried to look away, but I could still tell that he was watching us. "Don't look all obvious, Jeff." I whispered.

And the second the words left my mouth, I heard an approaching engine and out of nowhere, a large, black van pulled into the alley, halting with a screech. Jeff and I stopped immediately, exchanging glances in concern. The van door facing our direction slid open and out stepped two other large gentlemen. Each wearing long dusters as if they were apart of some gang.

"Oh, shit." I whispered, realizing that the men were walking right toward us, including the one dressed in red.

"Hey, we don't want any trouble." Jeff said, putting his hands up in defense.

"Trouble isn't what we're here for." Said the man in red, finally stepping into a ray of light coming from a nearby street lamp.

My mouth went dry the second his face was revealed. He had a head full of long, braided hair, decorated with beads in the shapes of silver skulls. His eyes were sunken into his face with added eye liner to further darken his already pitchblack eyes. Black and white lines were traced from beneath his eyes to his chin where his beard was cut in stripes, sort of like Jeff's. I swallowed to moisten my throat, but the effort had hardly worked.

"Who the hell are you?" Jeff demanded.

"Who I am doesn't matter..." The man responded in a darkly amused tone, sizing Jeff up with his eyes. "What matters is the fact that I know who you are...I know where you live...and I'm about to make you my screaming little bitch!"

At that moment, he lunged at Jeff. He was fast for someone of his size, but I had already anticipated it and was at Jeff's defense before he could even flinch. I swung a punch at the man's face, planning on knocking him unconscious right then and there, but he simply caught my fist as if it was nothing. I yelped as he twisted my arm sideways, forcing me to turn so that he could pin it behind my back. I got one good look at Jeff while I was struggling against the searing pain in my arm and to my surprise, his eyes were glazed over as if he were drunk and he was backing away from us slowly. Watching, but he seemed unable to comprehend what was going on. Usually he'd be the first to fight a bitch, but now...something was wrong.

…...

Jeff Hardy:

I didn't know what was happening. Why I was watching my brother get his ass handed to him, but couldn't move to help him. My entire body was shaking from head to toe. Quivering slightly like a million little vibrations, running especially up and down my spine. My feet wouldn't stop taking me back, pulling me farther and farther away from my brother. I didn't understand...what the fuck was happening to me?

"Such an honorable young man." The mysterious man hissed in Matt's ear while his arm was still twisted and pinned behind him. "Throwing yourself into harm's way to protect your brother. It's just too bad you're going to fail...miserably." With that, he snapped his fingers and two of the large men who had been standing by the white van came forward. I couldn't even blink as I watched them, and I could hear my own heart beat thrumming in my eardrums. Growing louder...and louder...and louder...and louder...

Thwack! The shorter of the two henchmen who's face was hidden behind a horrific black and red mask, was the first to strike Matt across the face. The blow was so hard I could've sworn his jaw had cleared the alley. Following the blow to the face, the taller man jabbed his fist into Matt's stomach. I could hear the wind gush out of his throat, leaving him stunned and breathless at what was happening to him. I felt my left eye twitch and my hands mimicked the motion by my sides. My blood began to boil, running hot and quick in my veins. A strange ringing sound started in the back of my skull, drowning out the sound of Matt's whimpering and the grunts of the enormous men as they continued to beat on him.

"Are you enjoying this, little Hardy boy?" Matt's mysterious aggressor taunted me, his voice echoing into the way back of my mind. My entire body began to shiver at the sound of that venomous voice dripping from those disgusting black lips, but not in fear. No. I wasn't afraid at all. I was angry. And I could feel that anger pumping through me, faster and harder by the second. The longer I stared at the three men and Matt before me, the more I felt that anger growing inside me until my chest began to burn and it became difficult for me to breathe and my vision was at first blurring, then turning red. I could hear hardly anything else but my heart beat now, deafening me, sending nerves exploding in me. I felt like...I felt like hurting someone. No...I wanted to see blood. Lot's and lot's of blood.

In the instant that I recognized the unusual homicidal desire, something snapped in me. A terrifying urge overpowered the last bit of sanity I had left and before I knew it, I was running, my legs taking me forward so fast I could hardly register it. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, frightening myself. It was my voice...but I didn't say it.

All three men looked up with a start just before I tackled the masked man to the ground, his weight going down with mine, thudding against the concrete.

"Shit!" The mysterious, dark man hissed, backing away with Matt still in his grasp, barely alive.

I couldn't stop myself as I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fist pounding away at the masked face below me. So hard I could hear bones cracking. Flesh tearing across my own knuckles. I didn't get the satisfaction of beating the living hell out of the sumbitch for more than a few seconds before the other henchman came crashing into me from behind, sending me sprawling across the concrete. We rolled together as he tried to link his arms around me and hold me back from tearing his partner apart, but I wasn't having it. This uncontrollable, monstrous side of me just wasn't having it! I threw my arms out to break his hold and rolled the man beneath me all in one fluid motion. He froze for a second, evidently caught off guard. My perfect opportunity to make him my little bitch. I slammed my fist into his throat, the sound of his windpipe shattering under my strength was sweet music to my ears. "Do it again, bitch!" I yelled, spit landing on the man's face. "DO IT AGAIN!"

The man reached up to grab my head, but I easily leaned back and punched him dead in the nose in return, blood splattering everywhere. Soaking his duster, splashing onto my face...turning me on. I punched him again, and again, and again with both arms flying like I'd lost my damn mind, screaming, "No one touches my fucking brother! Not you! Not the Halloween sumbitch over there! And in a second, I'ma rip your grim reaper lookin' son of a bitch's nuts off and choke him with 'em! Ya hear me, bitches!" I dug my fingers into the man's eyes and he immediately spazzed out, gurgling in pain because he couldn't scream, couldn't use his voice. I was glad. If I did hear it, it would've driven me up one of these brick walls. Then again, I was already there. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good.

Pushing my fingers deeper into the man's eyes, I closed them around the slimey, round objects, squeezing until I could feel a jelly-like substance squirt out into my hands with a gushing sound. I licked my lips as I watched blood and pus pour down the man's face, practically forming a pool beneath his head and then I began to pull on his eyes. Tugging them from their sockets, causing even more blood to gush out all over me. The man struggled like a captured animal beneath me, but for some reason, he couldn't escape like I thought he would. I didn't understand how I could overpower a man that goddamned big, but I wasn't questioning it. I was excepting it like a law of physics.

I heard a gut-wrenching pop noise and my left hand flew back into the air. When I looked up, drops of blood landed on my forehead and I saw that I was holding the man's left eye in the air like a trophy. I brought it down to eye level, a wicked smirk forming across my lips as I examined the organ, the sticky, twitching white ball covered in popping red veins, oozing jelly-like blood and pus that raced and dripped down my arm. The man squirmed and writhed beneath me, continuing to gurgle like he was about to vomit his guts out. "Ya like the taste of your own blood eyeballs, mother fucker?" My voice came out in a psychotic hiss, but I wasn't sure if I had spoken. "Well do ya?"

The man shook his head violently in response, shaking blood and sweat all over the concrete. I laughed at him. A maniacal, inhuman laughter that left his body shivering in fear. "Well guess what. I'm gonna shove these mother fuckers down your throat and you're gonna chew 'em up and eat 'em like mama's homemade fried fuckin' chicken, dickface!" I rammed the eyes into his mouth, this time eliciting a throaty cry from him. Ah, so his voice box was still functioning. Good. I wanted to hear him scream. "Eat it bitch!" I hollered, pushing the eyeball down into his throat with two fingers. His crying almost immediately turned into horrid coughs and gags as he tried to heave the eyeball from his throat. He choked harshly, his body jerking and spasming upward, bucking me up and down like I was riding a wild bull. "YIPPEE KAYEH MOTHER FUCKER!" With one hard tug, I ripped the other eye right out of his face, punching him hard across the jaw before forcing it into his mouth like I did the first one, making sure it was lodged far enough down his broken air hole to cause the most pain.

At that moment, I heard another sound strike my eardrums. It was Matt's voice followed by a thump and the roaring of a car engine. I looked up immediately, just in time to see the white van pulling out of the alley. "Matt!" I shouted, jumping to my feet. By the time I started running after the van, it was speeding down the road, nearly wrecking other vehicles along the way. I bolted out of the alley and sprinted down the sidewalk in my leather combat boots, not worried about anyone in my path. I bumped into several people who cursed at me in response, but I didn't care. I could feel tears swell up around my eyes as I watched the van slip farther and farther away, knowing that Matt was trapped with those wicked men. God knows what they would do with him. "Matt, no!" I stopped once I cleared an entire block, nearly collapsing to my knees. A wave of dizziness passed through me from exhaustion as I panted heavily, struggling to breath after having run as fast as I could. "Oh, God." I coughed, my face scrunching up as tears began to pour from my eyes and my heart began to ache in my chest, like someone had taken it and stabbed it with a knife. A knife called failure. I'd failed to save my brother. And if my mother was looking down on me, she would have been shaking her head in shame.

For a moment, as passersby eyed me as if I was some looney man on the street, their eyes wide and filled with concerned, all I could do was lean against the window of a nearby store and cry. Long, agonizing cries that came clawing out of me, tearing into the air. Blades of sorrow. "Fuck you!" I cried out, holding myself around the shoulders as if I'd suddenly grown cold. "Fuck you, you sick fucking PRICK!" I felt my entire body shaking from the inside out. Trembling in anger and rage toward those men who'd taken my brother from me. What if I never saw him again?

You just gonna stand there and cry like a little pussy?

I suddenly heard a voice. A voice that sounded just like mine, but it wasn't mine. I looked about frantically, my mouth hanging open in astonishment. There was no one that I could see speaking to me, but I knew I'd heard a voice. I wasn't that damn crazy. "I'm not a pussy!" I shouted at an unknown man in a beige coat, walking briskly past me to avoid conflict.

Well then grow a set of balls and go kill those bitches. Kill them for your brother.

The voice had spoken a lot clearer this time and I slowly stood up straight, looking around, not responding to it. Whoever had spoken was right after all. Even if it was just a voice in my head, I didn't have to argue. I just wanted to release all my anger in the most violent way possible.

Now go make this the last night that blind mother fucker ever sees.

I was eager, for some reason, to obey this voice, my hands shaking and itching to do exactly what the voice had told me to do. I made an about face and started walking back toward the alley. Tears no longer fell from my eyes; instead, my expression felt blank, emotionless. Like all the pain I had been feeling moments ago just faded deep down inside me, transforming into an animalistic thirst for blood and vengeance.

When I reached the alley, the large man was still there. A few people who were leaving the night club looked on in shock and horror as he crawled on his hands and knees very, very slowly, choking and coughing up blood and vomit. His clothes were stained in his own gore, creating a horrific smell I'd never forget. I was a bit surprised to see that he was still alive. But I knew he wouldn't be for long. I approached him from behind, breathing heavily through my nostrils as I stalked him, feeling a smirk pull at my lips. The same one I'd had on my face when I was beating the hell out of him, soaking myself in his blood. "Where are you going, little bitch?" I whispered to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him upright. "I didn't say I was done with you. My brother's gone. Your little broskies took him from me and since I can't get to them right now...I guess I'll just take it out on you." I gripped his forehead with one hand and his chin with the other, feeling his own huge hands grab me by my wrists. "Have fun in hell, you dirty bastard." And with that, I snapped his fucking neck like the ninjas in martial arts movie. That loud snapping sound sent a chill up my spine. A good chill.

I allowed his body to collapse on the ground at my feet, hearing gasps and shocked profane responses all around me. But I didn't care. For the most part, someone sensible who knew the streets would eventually hide the body and then everything would return to normal.

But not for me. I could never be normal.

Well done, Jeff. Well done.