"I guess I always wanted to be a cop, ever since I was a kid."

Dominic sighed and shifted nervously in his leather chair.

He'd broken the silence. A silence that felt longer to him than it had been in reality, and as he looked away from the beige wall and towards the woman sitting across from him he saw her ears perk up and a smile come across her face, he felt validated in answering her deceptively simple request: Tell me a little about yourself.

"I grew up on Gunsmoke reruns and by the time I was eight, I decided I wanted to be Marshal Dillon when I was older. Problem was, I was livin' in the 1970's, not the 1870's. Was never gonna be him, try as I might. My daddy filled me in on that, a lot.

"See, my daddy was not a nice man. Bet ya ain't heard that one before."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"Nah, he was a mean, drunk old sonuvabitch. Blunt as a ball-peen hammer and half as sharp as one. Always said I had a smart mouth, and always quick to hit me for it. Swear it was the only time I ever saw the fat bastard do anything fast. Couldn't run, couldn't take anyone his own size in a fight, but when it came to slappin' his family around, he has the fastest damn hands I've ever seen. I remember this one time, I was about fifteen I think. He got real drunk, plastered like I ain't ever seen him before or since. By this point we could hardly be in the same room with each other for more than a couple minutes before breakin' into some kind of dispute. This one night was no different. We got to arguin' over something, I don't even remember what now. Could've been anything, half the time I was contrarian just to be, y'know?

"Anyway, we go back and forth over some silly bullshit, then he socks me. Right in the face. Good times."

The woman furrowed her brow.

"Good times?"

He shrugged and tilted his head to the side.

"Well, it wasn't so good at the time I will admit, but it was one of those things that shaped me into the man I am today."

"Is that something you're proud of?"

The smile on Dominic's face faded, replaced by a look of confused frustration. He gripped tightly onto the arms of the chair and straightened his head, meeting her eyes with his for the first time since he sat down.

"The hell did you just say?"

She shook her head, donning a quizzical expression. Her hands laid atop the desk, and her lips curled upwards ever so slightly, almost challenging her patient.

"I asked you if being the man you are today is something you're proud of."

"Well now doc, that depends on the type of man you think I am. I'm sure you've got your ideas about that, don't ya?"

"I do."

She tapped the pen in her hand against her lips and observed as Dominic, eyes wide in anticipation, glared at her, expecting her to continue speaking.

"And?"

"I'm in no hurry. We still have forty-five minutes left, after all. Tell me, what made you decide to pursue a career as a professional wrestler? Was that an impulsive, spur of the moment decision or is there more to that story?"

Dominic massaged his temples, then dragged both hands down his face as he shook his head to calm himself down.

"Met a man a while back due to some circumstances I'd rather not disclose if that's alright with you, long story short it turned out that this man was a talent scout of sorts for the XWF. Told me to call him if I was ever looking to make serious money off a specific set of skills I possess. Don't think I need to go into detail about what those skills are.

"Didn't take him up on the offer immediately, if that's what you're askin'."

"And what were you doing in the meantime?"

"A bit of this, a bit of that."

"Informative."

"I try."

"So... if it took you a while to come around to the offer, what was it that finally convinced you to take it?"

"A bit of this and a bit of that just wasn't payin' all that well. Figured I'd look into something a little more stable."

For a split second, he looked away from her, down to the carpeted floor and blinked twice in rapid succession.

This wasn't something he was used to. This nervousness, this anxiety. Normally any sense of discomfort during these types of investigation into his psyche were the result of anger or frustration, not a deep rooted fear that she might expose some side of him that he himself had no idea even existed.

"That isn't all."

He straightened himself out and crossed one leg over the other in a figure-four shape.

"Really? Sure seemed like it was to me."

"Twelve years a detective, please tell me you picked up on basic body language cues."

He shook his head and laughed.

"Maybe I caught a thing or two."

"Then you know you aren't fooling either of us."

"Tell me then doc, what do ya think my ulterior motive is? Cuz I sure as hell don't know it."

"You're an angry man, Dominic."

He gripped the arms of the chair tight to keep himself from standing up.

"The hell I am."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Not a ringing endorsement, I admit."

"Do you think being a wrestler will give you a healthy way to release your anger?"

"Who said that was the reason?"

She rolled her eyes and lowered her head slightly, propping it up with her hand.

"This is like pulling teeth."

"Maybe for you. I'm havin' a grand old time."

He flashed an obviously phony smile towards her, then reverted back to his slight scowl.

"I can tell. Well, if going down that road's a dead end maybe we can talk about something else. Now I was hoping to hold off on this one, I'm sure you're probably sick of telling this story, but can you tell me about the day they disappeared?"

2 Years Ago

Baby we were born to run.

Dominic pulled into his driveway and put his car into park and killed the engine. He reached to unfasten his seat belt, but stopped, his hands hovering over the button. His attention turned to the clock on the car's radio. 11:30 PM. With the seat belt still in place, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, before typing up and sending a text message to his partner Marion.

Thx for coverin

He slid the phone back into his pocket, unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car. The night air was heavy and reeked of rain. His head fell into his hand and he leaned against the back of the car, and drew a deep, prolonged breath. He massaged his temples with the thumb and middle finger of his left hand before turning towards the driver's side mirror and shaking his head. In the light of the moon he inspected himself, just ensuring he didn't overlook anything during his hasty redressing and exit a half hour earlier.

Everything looked to be right.

He put on his "utterly drained by work" mask; slumped shoulders and a half-awake face, and trudged to the front door.

Only to find it wide open.

His eyes snapped wide open and he rushed into the house.

Shards of glass crunched under his boots as he stepped into the hallway. He looked down to find he'd stepped on the fallen, broken frame of a family picture; himself, his wife Elizabeth, and his son James on a sunny day. Smiling. Happy. He felt his heart sink into his stomach as he kept walking, hand on his gun.

As he stepped into the living room, his mouth moved but he could hear no sound coming from it. He couldn't hear anything at all. The room was a mess of broken knickknacks, shattered picture frames, upturned furniture and the like. His body was numb. The only thing he could feel was his heart beating, pounding, rapidly punching him in the sternum as he looked around. The big French doors at the end of the room that led out to the backyard were smashed and pushed open.

He stared in wide eyed disbelief, then reached for his phone and dialed 911.

2 Years Later // Present Day

"...You're right, I am pretty sick of tellin' that story."

Another silence broke out between the two. The psychiatrist tapped the pen against her lip again and stared off into space, deep in thought.

Dominic wiped a tear from his eye and looked down at his lap.

"Even worse was when I had to give my alibi.

"No, I couldn't have kidnapped my wife and kid 'cuz I was too busy nailing a waitress I'd been cheating on my wife with for months."

He sneered, and pushed himself further into the back of the chair. His eyes were drawn to the ticking clock hanging on the wall behind her.

"You haven't moved on."

Dominic glared at her through squinting eyes and shrugged his shoulders, furrowing his brow. He chuckled into his hand and scoffed, smiling at her with a simultaneously contemptuous and confused expression on his face.

"No shit? Y'know, I always figured bein' a psychologist would be hard but if all ya gotta do is point out the obvious then shit, I should've been one too."

"I'm actually a psychotherapist.

"Yes, there is a difference.

"As I was saying you haven't moved on from anything. Not this, not your childhood, nothing. You want to know why I think you decided to become a wrestler? Because you want to punish yourself. Because you feel that maybe if you put yourself through enough hell that you'll finally come to grips with everything and you can finally start to forgive yourself."

Dominic snarled as he pushed himself out of the chair and slammed his hands down on her desk.

"So, what? You want me to forget all about it, go on like nothin' at all happened?"

"I don't want you to forget, but you have to start living again."

A few welled up tears extinguished the fire in his eyes, and he allowed his shoulders to slump as he sighed.

"Guess I don't know how to do that anymore."