Therapy. I never thought I'd see the day. Alive or dead. Although, to be fair, I never thought I'd be a zombie, craving the soft spongy insides of a human's skull, either. So maybe this won't be that bad. After all, Atticus Black suggested it and he seems really nice, we had a talk about that unfortunate issue that occurred during my debut match and he never once suggested... or even remotely hinted towards, destroying my brain. From a member of the undead's perspective, that's revolutionary. Groundbreaking. Especially after that living dead abomination almost potentially started the zombie apocalypse. Anyone else, would have gone full on, zombie killing mode after that. So the fact that he didn't do that... is quite frankly, refreshing. The least that I could do is try to heed his words of wisdom.


I was new to the process of finding a therapist but luckily, the XWF had one on retainer, which made the search far easier than I anticipated. It also made me feel less weird about the whole concept. After all, if the company actually fronted the bill in advance, there must be a ton of other people that take advantage of the service. Hmmm? I wonder which roster members require the aid of a psychiatrist? There's so many individuals that work for this fine federation that seem like they would benefit from this sort of aid. While at the same time, there's also a lot of people that clearly need it and probably don't ever seek the help, that they so desperately require. Well, I wasn't going to be one of them, not anymore. Mr. Black believes this would do me some real good and who knows, maybe it will? I really would like to get a better handle on my zombie rage. Before I wind up causing something utterly atrocious and totally irreversible. Like a full fledged zombie apocalypse and the end of the world and all of human life as we know it. Crap. Where would I get my brains then? Shut up, Zane. Stop thinking like a fucking zombie for five seconds. This is serious.


My first appointment still had me nervous, sitting in the waiting room, I couldn't help but feel like the proverbial sore thumb. Everything was so bright and cheerful. There were flowers and inspirational posters. A secretary that literally looked like the spokesperson for the living. Everything just made me feel so... dead. Then again, this sort of sensation wasn't a first for me. There were lots of places that brought that on. Mostly because I was surrounded by life. Living, breathing mortals, with pulses and heart beats, who could have sex and not worry about forgetting to wear a condom because at least, that in turn would incur further life. Whereas my sperm, only brought quick death and an insatiable hunger for brains. Even if I didn't become overwhelmed with zombie rage, I was a scourge upon society. A blight. A curse of which there was no cure. Not one that allowed you to remain above ground anyway. Gosh. I really did need to talk to someone. Except, how could I ever make someone truly, understand what it was like to be me. Without them actually being like me. That was a conundrum. Yet, before I could ponder the concept any further, I was summoned to enter my doctor's office.


My therapist was one, Dr. Nettie Niles and she greeted me at the door, with a handshake and a reassuring smile. A smile that quickly faded into a look of concern, when her hand, met mine.


"Oh my goodness, you are freezing!"


I am a corpse. Corpses tend to be cold. Even when they're not stored in a freezer at the morgue. I swallowed hard and forced a grin.


"Uh... yeah, it's cold out. I probably should have worn gloves. Sorry."


Like that would have helped. Inside my mind, I rolled my eyes at myself.


"It's fine. Zane Norrison, is it?"


"Yes."


"Excellent. As you know I'm Dr. Niles but please, feel free to call me, Nettie."


"Okay, Nettie."


"Alright. Well, now that introductions are through, why don't you take a seat on one of the sofas and we can get started."


Nettie directed me towards a pair of sofas; facing each other, separated by a glass coffee table. I took a seat on the one closest to the door. Zombie 101. Always be able to make a quick exit, should the need arise. Dr. Niles sat on the couch opposite of me, crossing her legs, her comforting smile fully returned. Resurrected, if you will. Heh. That's a little zombie humor.


"So Zane, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"


I'm a zombie and I eat human brains. Boom. Done. Fix me, Doc.


"Okay. I'm 22."


Perpetually. Always. Forever. No matter how many years pass, I will always be twenty two.


"I live alone."


That's just a given. Zombies can't have roommates. How would that go? Hey man, don't eat the hamburger helper in the green tupperware cause it's not made with hamburger, it's made with brains. Thanks brah. Good looking out.


"I work two jobs."


"Two jobs? Wow. A young man your age sometimes can barely hold down one but you have two?"


"Yeah."


"What do you do? If you don't mind me asking?"


"I don't mind. I would have probably supplied the answer anyway. Um... I work for a morgue..."


For quick, no hassle access to brains.


"And I'm a professional wrestler."


"Right. I should have known that part. The XWF covers the cost for my sessions. Still that's quite the diverse career path that you seem to have taken. Morgue worker and wrestler."


"I actually worked for the morgue first, I only recently joined the XWF. Debuted on November 7th, 2018 and won the Hart title in my first match. Since then I've only had four matches, my fifth is actually scheduled for this Wednesday. As it stands I'm undefeated though."


"Impressive. Is that why you're here, any career in the spotlight can be stressful, especially one that places you in a scenario that tests you physically. Are you worried that you won't be able to keep your undefeated status? Is the thought of being defeated in your next match and potentially losing your title causing you trouble? Anxiety, perhaps?"


"Maybe. I don't know. I mean, I suppose it has to happen eventually, nothing lasts forever."


Unless we're talking about the potential life span of a zombie.


"I assume one day, I'll face someone who is far more talented than I am and despite my valiant efforts, I will fail but that's not really a concern for me at the moment."


"Why's that?"


"My next opponent is a man named Drezdin. He's just not that very good as far as wrestling goes. Plus he seems sorta out of it all the time. I'm not sure if he's on drugs or if he's mentally handicapped in some sort of way but there's definitely something wrong and that seems to only, increase his chances for failure. Can't really win a fight if you're busy talking to the ring post and drooling on yourself. I kid. It's not quite as bad as that but it's still pretty awful. To the point where I am almost positive it can only serve as a hindrance, when it's time for him to focus and wrestle."


"I see."


"For instance, he thinks he lost to me twice and we have never faced each other before. He blames me for some sort of obsession that he developed because of it. Claiming that he should have beat me and that the idea of my defeat is all that he thinks about. To the point where his girlfriend now turns him down for his preferred form of sexual gratification. I don't understand how something that never happened has such a hold over his mind, to the point where it effects his relationship but it does and that's both alarming and really, really confusing. I have never even spoken to him until recently. So I don't get how he conjured up two battles that never occurred. I can only assume that it's some sort of delusion or fantasy that he cooked up in his mind. Still to believe it so strongly, to the point that it overwhelms him and eats him alive. That's pretty scary."


"I agree. He sounds like a deeply troubled man. With demons far greater than any of us can imagine. So if you're not here seeking peace of mind for the notion of failure, then why are you here?"


"Uh... well, you see... sometimes, I go into these rages when I'm fighting and when that happens, bad things occur. I hurt people and there's a lingering real chance, that the damage I cause might carry an irreversible price. Like a serious, permanent, life ending sort of cost. I don't have a sense of control over it either. The rage, that is... not all the time anyway, not when I'm in the ring and fighting. Things happen and I lose it. When that occurs, I literally become a monster. I want to find a way to maintain a sense of balance. Order to the chaos. I want to control the monster. Thus eliminating the prospect of hurting someone in a way that they can never be repaired. I doubt I could keep living with myself, if I knew there wasn't a way to stop that from happening."


"That really is the first step in the recovery process. Admitting that you have a problem and seeking help for it. So you're most assuredly on the right path. Tell me, what do you think about, when you go into these rages?"


"Usually nothing."


"Nothing?"


"Yeah. Usually my mind goes totally blank and I black out."


"I see..."


"Sometimes I think about eating brains."


"Brains?"


"Human brains."


"H-H-Human brains..."


"That's only if I haven't eaten though."


"...."


Uh-oh. I think I may have admitted a bit too much.

1x X-Treme Champ
1x Hart Champion
1x SOTM November 2018