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After I've slapped hands with everyone in the crowd.
Signed the autographs.
Listened to the stories.
I sit alone.
And it all come roaring back.
Deformed and falling the fuck a part. If I had a hatchet I would give it to you to finish me off. I would look to the stars and hope that the blood drained before I felt the chop. You think it's funny to be desperate? Do you even know the lengths I will go to win? How far I have gone to lose? Who do you think you are? Champion of a place, is that suppose to make your name? You wanna know real torment? True agony? I was the man of the house, the house all alone in the hills of dark pines. The place had to be a hundred years old, an original, no heating, no cooling, just you and the wood that made up the walls. But it was mine. A token of what I had always worked so hard to achieve.
It was desolate. I liked it that way.
Cooked in summer and in winter I'd freeze. All the elements made themselves that much more without the comfort of modern amenities. And my wife. There, resenting all of it. Detesting me every day. It started with a look. Then a sigh. She started getting angry that there was no social hang outs up there. It was the fucking forest, what do you expect? A Kama-sutra of options? One day it started to get worse. Pulling away from my own touch, her husband's advances, not welcomed how they used to be. The tension had come to a point. Violent reminder of what would not be again. A lot like with us, Chris. It became... toxic.
We were so young.
Her and I. Married at 17.
I tried to play it off. Ignore the sure fiery end that was burning and barreling to a violent conclusion. Day by day. Hour by hour. Second by fucking single second. One day I returned from a long trip to the market, it finally started. I found all of the windows shattered, broken into; at first I was worried for her safety and panicked. The doors were all splintered, punch marks in the walls, could she have even done this? I'd never seen her in a rage that would result in such chaos. Every room had been perfectly massacred. Like there were exact targets in mind.
As if it was all planned. It was no break in, no accident.
Then it dawned on me. Where was she? Was I next in her plan to exile herself from this place and any lasting memory of it? We were living in hell. I searched the entire place... then, just like that, she walked out of the shower; like nothing happened. Putting a towel around her head and asking me how my trip was. Smiling. How fucking weird is that? Oblivious and refusing to acknowledge the destruction in which we were standing. Saying she had no idea how it occurred. I wanted to believe her. It was clear to me. This was more than a temper tantrum; it was full blown chaos. I knew that no matter what happened from then on that we had a lot more time before I could sell the place and walk away whole financially. And that somehow, I had to provide a remedy for her. Something steady and real. Safe.
Anti-Chaos.
I will do it,
My veiny rape stick,
Until you gag and submit.
Too far to turn back,
Too restless to care,
I see that look in your long empty stare.
I know you’ve come here to attack,
It’s the way you've been shown,
The place you reside when you want to be alone.
Go on down,
Bitch.
Go on home,
Until all that's left is under-grown.
Go on down
Bitch.
Go on home,
Universal Champions are adversely sewn.
I will do it,
My veiny rape stick,
Until you gag and submit.
Go on down,
Bitch.
Go on home,
Until all that's left is under-grown.
Go on down
Bitch.
Go on home,
Universally Champions are adversely sewn.
Infesting your throat with winning juice,
All along that's what you wanted me to let loose,
You'll choke on it, then you'll lose.
Go on down,
Bitch.
Go on home,
Until all that's left is under-grown.
Go on down
Bitch.
Go on home,
Universally Champions are adversely sewn.
Why did I go through this for so long? Why would I allow myself to be dictated to by a woman who has clearly had some type of psychiatric break? Because... I loved her dearly. And to be honest, I knew she had past mental health concerns when we met. To bail now would be cowardly, it would make me, well, like Chris Chaos. Where everything that scared me made me less and less until eventually, there was nothing left to have. Like at Lethal Lottery. But why did I care about this love so dearly? Was this the woman I was meant to be with for the rest of my life? I wasn't sure, but even if there was a chance... I didn't want to abandon her.
After all, she had never done that to me.
No matter how hard things got when I decided to become a professional wrestler, she never said it was stupid, she never said I couldn't... she said... DO IT. When we had little to eat. Nowhere to go, we still supported it together. Our dream, not just mine. You can see how this was tearing me a part from every possible angle. Maybe my previous few young relationships had left me scarred and numb. I didn't always know which way was up when dealing with her. But I knew I had to try. I didn't want to be a spectator in my own life. I wanted to live right. I wanted to feel again through happiness and tears. Maybe those goals were too lofty. A trance by which to fulfill a hollow gaze. I admit, when I was away from her... I never really missed her. But still, even then... I was glad to see her again. It didn't matter to her. After that episode things subtly got worse. The next time I came home she was standing on the roof naked with a knife in her hand and lashes all over her back. Demonic shit that could not be reasoned away. Explained. Ever. It was shit I was never prepared to deal with. Who would be?
I know what you're thinking. Before you jump to any certain thoughts, let me say that, yes, this is how they found her. Many more months had passed. She had gotten progressively further from reality the longer we stayed there. I couldn't leave. Whenever I tried to get her to go for her own good, she would just look at me for minutes, then blank out again. It was like watching someone you love morph into something... else. That's exactly what it was. I never was much for experience with "domestic violence". There’s other drama to domestic violence that they never tell you about on television, or in books. It's like people are scared to talk about it. She was the violent one in our situation. Yeah, the woman would rough up 'The Radical', crazy right? She could, but Chris Chaos cannot, what does that say, right? But this was not a normal human interaction. Not an argument that escalated. It was a darkness that wanted to destroy. More greedy for a hunger to feed on what would surely be pure anarchy if it had it's way. I don't know when the point of her leaving, and it taking over was. But I see it again.
In Chris Chaos.
Only more... pathetic.
The angst is how it made itself known. Then the uncertainty in situations that were abnormal for a person who used to be so sure. It's a familiar dread and horror that I feel all over again. Seeing someone who was close to you become what they never should have been. AGAINNNNN. My wife never had a chance to make it out of that trance alive. I never had the courage to be a man and put her down myself. That would have been true mercy. One night she just got up, sleepwalking, and they found her... like that. I won't make that mistake again.
I care about Chris, as a partner, as a friend.
I will do what needs to be done to save him from himself, and all that may possess him. I will end it. I will not allow the Chaos to overtake the man. I will be the saving grace.
The violent family.
For his own good.
The Anti-Chaos.
☆
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