"There is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain
'Tis Pain's Successor When the Soul
Has suffered all it can "
- Emily Dickinson
----
Stoya and I sat across from one another on the balcony of a high end steakhouse in Chicago, finishing off an extremely expensive meal - on the company card, of course. Stoya had pulled some strings with a few elite contacts of the Powers Talent Agency to get a reservation here on short notice. Around us were the rich and important members of society in the city, wealthy tourists, and the occasional bustling waiter. Each and every table seemed an island in a serene sea, interrupted by almost nothing. Indeed, the balcony itself was an island in the sea that was the city, itself an island, a little speck of light that would be almost indistinguishable against a backdrop of the rest of our planet. I looked up at the sky and reflected on what few stars I could see, and more on the countless number that were out there somewhere. I became acutely aware of the enormity of the universe, and even more aware of how limited my awareness was - knowing that I could only begin to grasp the size of it, that it stretched to the end of the imagination and back. It made me question the significance of everything I was partaking in - this dinner, this city, my relationship, and most of all, my career. I thought of Ty and my differences with him. Did it really matter, in the end? Did it matter who controlled WZCW? Did it matter if it was him or me, or neither of us? Did it even matter if WZCW continued to exist? It began to feel like we were just playing out a meaningless drama, a tiny play on a tiny stage that would soon be forgotten by the universe.
"This is nice," Stoya said, shattering my reverie.
I met her eye and saw her smiling, my breath catching a little bit at her unexpected beauty. After my thoughts of a horrifying empty abyss, she blazed like a beacon in front of me. I don't know how the poets would have described her - I didn't have the words. Everything about her - her hair, her eyes, her lips - was just...right. In that one, singular moment, she seemed more than human to me, as if she was totally without flaw.
"What is?" I replied, still distracted by her.
"Just...this," she said, shrugging offhandedly. Did she know that I loved that? Had I ever told her? "You and I, eating dinner. It's...normal. Our life always seems so chaotic, you know? You with WZCW, my work with the agency...it's nice to just be us for a little while."
"It is nice," I said. "But it's hard to forget what's waiting out there. WZCW doesn't sleep. Neither does Ty."
She half sighed, half laughed. "He's just a man in the end, Drake."
I shook my head. "I don't believe that any more. He's got too much power. There's something about him. Dark. Occult. Whatever you want to call it."
"Do we have to do this now? Can we just...not? For one day?"
"No," I said curtly. "You want me to just forget? Forget that there's a man out there who's after my blood every waking second? Waiting to destroy me the next time we get in the ring?"
"Fine," she snapped. "Fine. Sorry I brought it up."
We sat in silence again for a few moments. Some part of me felt bad for ruining the moment, but at the same time, how did she not understand at this point? After all this time? After all we'd gone through? I couldn't just not think about it. We were talking about my career, my livelihood, absolutely everything I believed in at stake. In just a few days, I was going to fight for my life against the most evil man to ever step into a WZCW ring, and she wanted me to stop thinking about it?
"Are you alright?" she asked, legitimate concern in her voice.
"What? I'm fine," I said. "Why do you ask?"
"You're scowling," she said."
I realized my face was practically contorted, and forced myself to relax.
"Sorry," I said. "I didn't realize..." I trailed off.
She reached out for my hand, and I took hers, absentmindedly.
"Drake, I'm not saying you have to let it go. But you have to stop this from consuming you."
"Tell that to Ty. It isn't my fault that he's digging his claws deeper into WZCW with every waking moment. If it's going to consume me, it's his fault, not mine."
"Then don't play his game, Drake - "
"How, Stoya? How exactly am I supposed to not play his game? WZCW is his territory, and he sets the rules. Every time I step into his ring I'm playing his game. If you have any advice on how I'm supposed to stop playing by his rules, let me know now."
The silence returned for a moment, though she held onto my hand. I appreciated that - I didn't mean to...it was comforting, at least. An anchor that helped me stay under control. For a little while, at least.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I just want things to better."
I sighed and took my hand back, rubbing it over my eyes. "I know. Damn it, Stoya, I'm trying. This isn't my fault."
Her hand was still where I'd left it. She picked it up hesitantly before bringing it back to her lap.
"I know it isn't. I just..." She trailed off, then looked around. She raised a hand at a passing waiter. He came over, and she gestured at the empty bottle of wine that she'd started and finished tonight. I raised an eyebrow. She met my eye, her face expressionless. She looked up at the waiter.
"Another bottle of this, please."
----
A few hours later, we made our way back into our room at the hotel, Stoya leaning heavily on me. She'd finished off the second bottle by the time we'd left. I didn't mind, especially, though it was the first time I'd ever seen her drink to this level of excess. Still, everything was weighing heavily on both of us these days. It didn't surprise me that she needed a way out tonight. I sure as hell knew enough about escaping for a little while, even if I'd given up this particular route. I kicked the door closed behind us as Stoya stumbled a bit. I caught her as she laughed. I was amused at the situation more than anything - how many times had someone played this role for me? How many times had I wished someone would?
I got her over to the couch and helped her sit. She leaned heavily to one side and I quickly sat down next to her to balance her out. She practically fell on top of me, and I settled for her head in my lap. I absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair.
She mumbled something and gestured with her hand. I couldn't make anything out, and I ignored her. It's not like anything she said in this state meant much. She tried again, though, mumbling louder this time. I figured I may as well indulge her.
"What?" I asked her, trying to adjust her so she could speak more clearly.
She sat herself up a little bit more, and spoke more clearly. "I'm sorry," she said, then coughed.
"It's fine. I don't mind," I said.
"No," she said, shaking her head a bit. "I'm sorry," she began again, "about..." She trailed off mumbling again.
"About what," I asked her. She was beginning to pique my curiosity.
She smiled broadly, like I'd just told her the funniest joke. "This...all this...I'm sorry that it's like this..."
I furrowed my brow as she went on. "What do you mean?"
"Me...what I...you...this..."
I shook my head. I of all people ought to have known better than to try to make sense of what she was saying in this state.
"I wish I could..." She trailed off again. I let her speak freely, at this point. She could ramble until she fell asleep.
"...I wish I could believe you..."
I froze. I had misheard her, surely. But I hadn't. I knew I hadn't. I must have, though. She couldn't mean that.
"You don't mean that," I choked out.
She just laughed lightly again, mumbling something unintelligible.
I didn't want to believe what I had heard. I didn't want to have heard what I had heard. How could I be expected to stand it? I pushed her off me and she leaned over and laid out on the couch, probably nearly asleep already. It didn't matter. She'd done her damage. I got up, not sure where it was I wanted to go, but I had to get away from her for a moment. I settled on heading to the bathroom, my head a mess, my thoughts blazing. It felt like I'd stepped into a wildfire.
I walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror, trying to hang onto something. My own reflection was barely enough. I saw my own face clearly for the first time in ages. Lines were appearing that hadn't been there a few months ago. My eyes were deepening. In a year, I looked like I'd aged five. I realized now that it had been a year, just a year, since I'd come to all this. Would I make the same decision again? Was it worth it?
I broke. I let out a primal, guttural scream. Everything was falling apart. I had nothing left to hold on to. My reflection? Fuck my reflection. I shattered it with my fist, breaking glass and the coppery smell of blood enveloping my consciousness. Now what? What was left? I screamed again.
In the pieces of glass that remained, I saw a figure appear behind me. She and I, reflected in a hundred little shards, every angle of creation reflecting us. A hundred pictures that added up to nothing.
"Drake?" She said it like she had a right to my name, to my feelings. After what she'd done to me. "I heard you...are you alright?"
She was unsteady on her feet, wobbling, trying to find her balance. She slurred her words. I hated her for being drunk. I loved her for being capable of it. She had been my last tether to the ground. I hated her - I loved her - I hated her for setting me free.
I rounded on her in an instant. I knew what I wanted. I wanted so badly to hit her. The stupid - but I didn't. She wasn't - she wasn't Kate. I couldn't make her Kate no matter how hard I tried. I couldn't recapture unconditional love, I couldn't make it appear again. I couldn't make up for squandering my only shot. I wanted to knock her out, I wanted to see her on the floor like I had Kate, I wanted them to be the same. But I couldn't change anything about her.
I slammed my hand around her throat and backed her into the wall. God, I wish I knew what I saw in her eyes. How many times did I claim I had? But I had no idea. Confusion? Anger? Fear? How the hell should I have any idea? She'd lied to me successfully for months with those goddamn eyes. What did I know?
I kissed her, deeply, passionately, lustfully. I had tried to place so much meaning on these moments before, she and I together like this. Not this time. I resolved to experience the moment for what it was. She locked up at first - I felt it - but she kissed me back soon enough. My hand dropped from her throat. I let the moment stretch out as long as I could, felt it strain out to infinity - and then it was gone.
We separated. I took a breath. It was gone. Our eyes met. I looked at a stranger. She was obviously reeling from the drink, and everything I'd done. I couldn't stand to be here for another moment. With one last look into her eyes I headed for the door.
I didn't look back.
-----
If you're good enough, you can get onto most any roof in any building that's not locked down. I had found my way to the roof of our hotel with relative ease. It was a good place to get away and collect my thoughts for a little bit. The isolation up here was good.
I had sat and thought for...I don't know. Hours. It was hard to tell; I couldn't see the moon. Too many clouds. I'd thought for long enough, though. It was time to send a message. I pulled out my phone and set it to record. Just the words. It was too dark to see me. It didn't matter.
"For months, I've been trying to find a reason."
I let that hang in the air for a few moments.
"A reason to be world champion. That's how it started. When I realized the magnitude of what I'd thrown away to become it, I had to find some justification. I tried everything. Nothing stuck. I settled on 'because I wanted it.' How pathetic. Like a child. I want it, so that's enough, right?"
I felt a smile grow across my face, and let out a laugh.
"When the title stopped being in the cards, I stopped trying to find a reason. Consciously, anyway. I realize now that everything I've been doing since I started this with you, Ty, I've been trying to justify my...everything. My career, my life, everything I do. I've been trying to come up with a reason why I do this. Why I put on my gear and go to the ring, despite everyone in this company hating my guts. Why I get up in the morning. Why I keep playing this part in this facade.
"I've tried it all. I was going to save WZCW. I was going to prove I was a righteous man. I was going to redeem WZCW, of all things. It all fell apart. I staked everything I had on belief. Trying to find someone to believe me. Chris K.O. was a stopgap, but he was just in it for himself. He doesn't believe a word I say. My last tie to ground was the woman I love, who had convinced me that she believed me. I found out the truth of that, a few hours ago. So what have I got left? What's Drake Callahan's next hope?
"There isn't one."
I pulled out a cigarette and toyed it with it for a moment.
"I'm out of options, Ty. I'm out of reasons to do this. I'm out of reasons why I should keep going. I guess it's the end of the line."
I pulled out my lighter and flipped it open, lit the cigarette. I took the first draw before I went on.
"There's just one thing I can't get over, Ty.
"I hate you so fucking much.
"Should I? You took away my title, derailed my career. I don't have any good reason left why any of that matters. You've beat me up, fought me, sure, but I've had dozens of men do that. No, Ty, the reason why I hate you deep down is because you took away my faith. Before this, I still believed in something. I believed this mattered. Every step I've taken on this path to the end of my belief, you've stood right beside me, pushing me along. I could have gone my whole life believing that there was a reason why I do this, that there was order to my life, if it weren't for you.
"But we were doomed from the start, I guess. You and I practically walked in to the door here together. Who could have guessed then that this is where we'd end up? Who would have written our story? You and I, in this utterly meaningless drama, this empty cycle of misery, this drama of agony. A story of burning hatred, of the end of hope. A war, and for what? What do we do this for, Ty? Do you have an answer? Because I'm out."
I took another draw of the cigarette.
"I think you believe in destiny, Ty. I think you believe you were meant to rule everything. I think you believe that everything you do is taking one step closer to some glorious end, a paradise. So how is that you managed to so utterly destroy these same beliefs in me?
"I want you to make no mistake, Ty, you are responsible for this. For me. For everything I've done. For everything I'm going to do. You think I don't feel it? The slow slipping away of my own sanity? What kind of person demands that the people around him insist he isn't crazy? Only a mad man. But you - you are responsible for this, Ty. You drove me here. You drove me crazy. You did this. I lay it at your feet.
"So just understand that when I step into the ring with you, I'm free of everything. Reservations, remorse, thought, care. I don't care what happens to you. I don't care what happens to me. I will fight you, and I will do my damnedest to beat you, not because it matters, but because it's the only thing I have left. I may not have a reason to do it anymore, Ty, but I know this - I hate you. And for no reason whatsoever, I'm going to do whatever I can to make you suffer. And Ty, if I should make it past you, and make it into the Lethal Lottery itself, I intend to make everyone else I can suffer, and hurt, but I'll be thinking about you every moment, Ty. Do you understand what that's like? To have you occupy my every thought? Everything I do, I do it because I'm thinking about you."
I went to take another draw of the cigarette before I realized I'd finished it. I threw it on the ground and stamped it out.
"Ty, I don't even care about beating you. I just want my measure of revenge. I want my pound of flesh. I just want to play out whatever part I have in this drama and let it end.
"Ty, one way or another, all I want at the end of this is for it to be over."
My next words fell away as I listened to myself say that. That was it. That was all I had left.
"An end, Ty. At Lethal Lottery, let there be an end."
