3am. Alone. In the still, quiet of my room. Just me and my thoughts. What a lethal combination. Laying atop a treacherous stretch of despair. Considered the Rolls-Royce of beds, this former place of comfort, offers me no peace. No solace of sleep. Instead, I am granted a silent nightmare, that I am fully awake, aware and conscious through. I might never sleep again. I'll simply drift through existence, dead to the world. More of a zombie than even Zane Norrison. Empty. Numb. With zero hope of feeling anything. It's not fair to my son. Arkin doesn't deserve this but I can't seem to stop it from happening. To snap out of it. Is there such a switch that exists within someone? Something that you can flip, to turn it all around and revive yourself. If there is, I'd really like it if I could be clued in, on how to activate it. Don't get me wrong. It isn't like I've been neglectful of my son. This hollow shell in the shape of Donovan Blackwater, still makes the same efforts and motions as he's always done. The only difference is the substance beneath. There literally feels like there's nothing there.


The worst are these moments though, when I am by myself, in the dark.


While I am in bed, restless yet weary.


When I can still smell the lingering scent of honey and vanilla. That doesn't seem to want to fade away.


Except tonight promises the prospect of a new terror. As I lay there, through the silence, I can hear the very faint sound of... breathing. Rhythmic. In the pattern of sleeping. Beside me, there's a slight weight in the bed. Familiar because it feels exactly the same way that it would, when Abigail would be lying next to me. However, it can't be her because I know she's dead, I witnessed the overwhelming sight of her headless corpse and I carried her cold body to my car. Before driving to the hospital, venturing on the most pointless journey ever. So I know what I'm sensing is false. A lie created by my sleep deprived mind. Yet, it seems so real, it shatters me to pieces.


Like Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the underworld. I am fearful to turn around, lest suffer the same tragic fate of a mere glimpse and nothing more.


That's when an arm, slowly slides around my waist and a head, nuzzles into my back. Accompanied by the warmth of a form, the same size and shape as Abigail. Her hand, gently caresses, gradually traveling lower, while lips press deeply into my spine. The metrical breathing is there, along with the beating of a heart. This is madness, there is no question about it. I have lost my mind and fallen completely off of the edge of sanity. Still, it feels so good and tearfully, normal. As if nothing terrible or awful happened, it was a bad dream... that's all, I want nothing more than to succumb to the delusion. To live the lie, if only for a second. An instant of bliss shared with a ghost.


Is it really all that fucked up?


Don't answer that.


For the love of all that is holy, do not answer that.


Commands that I give myself as I bite my lip and turn around. Then all at once - there's Abigail, gazing up at me with those big, beautiful, brown eyes. Warm and radiant, like the first day I met her. My hand, instinctively reaches towards her face, hesitating only briefly, before I touch her cheek. Solid. Soft. Real. Abigail is in this bed. She smiles at me and moves in closer, kissing me. Eyes flutter closed, I try to fight it but it happens like second nature. I feel her lips against mind as they part and tongues, unite. It is a feverish kiss, hungry and passionate. Much the same as they always were. Tears burn, slipping past my eyelids, I don't want this to end. Every fiber aches for this kiss to last forever.


Fortune is not my friend though.


Our lips separate and when they part, my eyes instantly open. Only to be greeted by an empty bed, stretched out before me. Abigail isn't there. No one is there. And I am alone, once more. In that moment, my world crumbled apart and I lost her, all over again.





"You want me to die."


"How very cliche, teen angst of you."


"I wonder how many times you shouted this at invisible Donovan, before thundering to your room, slamming the door promptly afterwards? In preparation for your promotional video. As to avoid the lip quiver and inevitable tears."


"Unfortunately, that's not an option, Thaddeus."


"Not a realistic one anyway. Sorry, you're going to have to suffer through your teenage drama and sully forth. With full knowledge that this scenario will never occur.


"No, regardless of the endless, numb that engulfs me, I can't die. I won't die. I have a son to take care of and only a selfish twit, would take that route. Suicide. Death by pills and booze. Please. Don't be irremediably dumb. Never would I fall victim to such a fate. Not willingly anyway. You see, in spite of everything, I am a survivor. Blackwaters thrive and survive. Through brightest day and blackest night, we fight and prevail. There is no easy road or quick exit. Lucky for me, I've never been used to such things."


"I said that I don't give a shit about this fight."


"That I don't care about you or Wrestler C."


"Still don't do either."


"However, that doesn't take away what I am and who I will always be, underneath it all. I am more than a showman, a man standing in front of a camera, cracking jokes and proclaiming to be the best. There is substance that is stronger than anything you could ever muster. Even in this broken state, my world in ruins, I still maintain a worth far beyond yours, Duke. For you, the claims are as weak as your fortitude of character. You say you're finally at your best. At long last! Hallelujah! Yet the words echo, hollow and desolate. They mean nothing in the end because in the end, they're only words and I've already proven that once before. When I didn't even care or want to do such a thing. When it was all a lark... a jest, simple fun and entertainment. But now, perhaps I have to bring forth some effort, for the simple fact that you want to see me drown, so badly."


"Why?"


"It doesn't make sense."


"You want me to drop beneath the deep and perish. To end my existence and take my brothers with me. Do you hear yourself? Truly. The words that you speak, make you seem like an impudent child and nothing more."


"Not a man."


"Not a warrior."


"A brat."


"Pouting and stomping his feet."


"I don't have a desire to listen to the selfish whims of a little boy."


"I already have a son and I don't care to take on a child, less behaved than a three year old."


"So here is what's going to happen. I am going to power through the endless, nothing void and then, I'm going to put you in your place. Set you up with a nice time out and when that's all over with and finished, I'm going to go back to my cold, dark, emptiness. Where I can pull myself back together, in peace and not have to deal with the rationale of children, that have been far too long in need of discipline. Sound like a plan? It doesn't matter if you agree. Just know that it will happen. Through no fault of your own or failure in performance either. Only for the mere reason that at the end of the day, I will always prevail over you. Whether I care to or not. In the equation of you vs me, you will lose. Every single time."


"Stop crying and get over it."


"It's time for you to start really acting like a man."

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...