You will slide.
Oct 28, 2020 8:00:35 GMT -5
The Madness Menagerie and Mitch 'The Broken' Heart like this
Post by Matt Knox "The Raven" on Oct 28, 2020 8:00:35 GMT -5
Bert pulled up to the Hampton in his ‘Brand New’ 2009 Ford Taurus. The radio silence from Matt had been absolutely maddening, and now his phone was going straight to voicemail. He was sure he wasn’t off the wagon, he was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. But he needed to know.
Feeling as if his legs were detached, Bert stepped out of the vehicle and began a long walk up to the elevators. His breath hitching as his nerves continue crying out in every possible horrible fate that awaits him in room 207. Anxiously, he watches the floors pass on the digital outread above the doors of the elevator until, finally, the third floor hits.
Bert adjusted his coat, before stepping out into the hallway and walking straight to Matthew’s room, his limbs felt like ice. His stomach fell to his knees as he saw the door was cracked open. This wasn’t Matt..or, it wasn’t anymore. He slowly pulled the door open, and stepped in. Immediately, his nostrils burned with the scent of whiskey and sweat. His feet carried him forth as surely as his heart tried to pull him back.
“Matt?” he called out, stepping out of the entryway and taking in the unlit room, he picked up one of many half full and empty bottles of Guinness on the small table, usually where Matt placed that journal of his. It wasn’t long before his eyes found him, the chair pulled to the window. He was still in his ring gear, one hand gripping a bottle of Jim Beam, the other gripping a cigarette between his index and pointer finger.
“Yeah, Bert?” came the slurred, distant answer from the lips of his best friend. Bert stayed in place, watching the bottle lift to Knox’s lips. He watched the small bubbles manifest as Matthew took the whiskey straight, his eyes wandered to the nightstand and rested on the bottle of vicodin. He walks over, lifting the bottle as Knox’s words slur forth once more, “Not interested in an interview, unless you got a press pass, McAlroy.”
“How many of these did you take?” He asked, his voice edged with bitterness. Matthew’s head turned toward the sound, and gave only a dismissive snort in response, as Bert dropped the bottle and went to sit on the mattress, next to the chair. He steepled his fingers, exhaling a shaky breath.
“Knock that shit off, kid.” came Knox’s voice, “This is my pity party, not yours.”
“What the fuck are you even hosting one for?”
A heavy, angry silence. Matthew took a drag off his cigarette, before flicking the butt toward the dinow. It bounced, sending a miniature barrage of sparks as it did.
“I let you down, Bert. I let the fans down. Levi, Hope, Mitch. Let myself down. Couldn’t beat Zane, Couldn’t beat Amber, Couldn’t earn a shot” He took a long swig of the pint then, draining what was left. His breath hissed at the burn, and he weighed the bottle in his hand, “Let myself believe my own bullshit. Acting like i’m not a forty year old with a broken down body and a big mouth.” a chuckle, bitter and dark.
“You went out there and gave it your all against two fucking monsters, Matt. No one can take a thing fro-”
“Save it, Bert. I went out there, and got bested at every turn. Just like they said I would. I’m not cut out for a run, not like I thought I was. Like you convinced me I was. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Oh, fuck you Matt.” Came Bert’s reply, he stood up to his full 5’10, walking over to stand in front of his drunk, high, self pitying train wreck of a best friend. He jabs his finger in his face, scowling as he spoke “You lost, shit happens. Don’t you fuckin dare mash that button, not when people care again! People besides me.”
“I’m not mashing any fucking button, Bert. And If I was, it’s none of your fucking concern anyway. You got Havoc, Insider, chasing Ade like a fucking lost puppy. I’m not your lot in life anymore.”
Bert felt the sting of the insult, looking away for a moment. Matthew’s eyes, glazed over as they were, softened as he realized what he had said “Christ, kid. I’m sorry..I’m just..” he shook his head, as Bert smiled sadly.
“Yeah. I get it.”
“The Fuck you do, but you will..”
Matt stood up, his hands slapping onto Bert’s shoulders maybe just a bit too hard, and squeezing just as hard. He stumbled, his friend’s hands firing out to catch and support him. Matthew leaned down, and stared into Bert’s eyes.
“Get the fuck out, and stay away from me. I’m fucking poison, Bert.” He pushed Bert away, walking toward the nightstand and reaching for the bottle of pills. Bert leapt then, snatching Knox by the wrist almost as simultaneously as he snatched the bottle of pills.
“No, dude! Fucking stop this shit, it’s one match!”
“Let go, Bert.”
“I said No, Matt! Fucking stop and THINK! This is the shit that ruined EVERYTHING last time! You do this, you’re exactly who they sai-”
“I SAID LET GO, BERT!”
Matthew swung wildly, too drunk to remember or acknowledge the extra weight in his hand. Before he knew it, he felt the thud up his arm, and the sting in his hand as the glass bottle of bourbon shattered within it, against Bert’s head. Time seemed to slow down as Bert toppled onto the mattress, hands instantly heading up to favor the wound.
“Shit..Shit, fuck Bert I’m sorr-”
He reached out to Bert, only to have his hand swatted away. Bert sat up, checking his fingers for blood. By some miracle, he managed to evade getting cut, at least bad enough to leak like a sieve. He stares up at his friend, drunk and dumbfounded. The sting of tears twisting his face, as he shot his gaze downward. His words come shaky, bitter.
“Fuck it, then. Fuck you, Matt. If this is where you’re going, if you’re so dead set on it i’m not gonna dig you out. Not again,” He wipes his hands over his face, standing up and bumping his chest into Knox, staring up into his eyes, his smaller frame vibrating with rage “You go in that hole, you go to rot you son of a bitch.”
And with that, He shoved past Matt Knox, who’s eyes remained cast downward. He stood still, flinching only when the slam of the door rang through his ears. He stared down at the prize in his hand. Vicodin-Acetaminophen 750/250. He snorts, weighing them in his hand and heading back to his seat, blindly reaching down by the chair and retrieving another pint of Jim Beam.
“Fucking fantastic job, Knox.”
He muttered bitterly to himself. He hesitated a moment, before leaning over and unplugging his phone from the charger, turning it on and doing what he dreaded most, opening Twitter.
The bottle of pills in his hand went from a soft weight, to an immense one, then to being a hot coal.
Matthew set his phone down, leaning forward and gripping the sides of his head. He felt the bottle of painkillers in his right palm, he let them drop, feeling them bounce off his shoulder and roll down toward the carpet.
What the fuck are you doing, Knox?
He straightened up, wiping at his nose and his eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Drunkenly, he reached back for his phone, pulling up the contacts list he thumbed through it until he came to the one he was looking for.
He pressed the green call button, swallowing a sob as he raised the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Dad.”
Feeling as if his legs were detached, Bert stepped out of the vehicle and began a long walk up to the elevators. His breath hitching as his nerves continue crying out in every possible horrible fate that awaits him in room 207. Anxiously, he watches the floors pass on the digital outread above the doors of the elevator until, finally, the third floor hits.
Just above my chamber door…
Bert adjusted his coat, before stepping out into the hallway and walking straight to Matthew’s room, his limbs felt like ice. His stomach fell to his knees as he saw the door was cracked open. This wasn’t Matt..or, it wasn’t anymore. He slowly pulled the door open, and stepped in. Immediately, his nostrils burned with the scent of whiskey and sweat. His feet carried him forth as surely as his heart tried to pull him back.
“Matt?” he called out, stepping out of the entryway and taking in the unlit room, he picked up one of many half full and empty bottles of Guinness on the small table, usually where Matt placed that journal of his. It wasn’t long before his eyes found him, the chair pulled to the window. He was still in his ring gear, one hand gripping a bottle of Jim Beam, the other gripping a cigarette between his index and pointer finger.
“Yeah, Bert?” came the slurred, distant answer from the lips of his best friend. Bert stayed in place, watching the bottle lift to Knox’s lips. He watched the small bubbles manifest as Matthew took the whiskey straight, his eyes wandered to the nightstand and rested on the bottle of vicodin. He walks over, lifting the bottle as Knox’s words slur forth once more, “Not interested in an interview, unless you got a press pass, McAlroy.”
“How many of these did you take?” He asked, his voice edged with bitterness. Matthew’s head turned toward the sound, and gave only a dismissive snort in response, as Bert dropped the bottle and went to sit on the mattress, next to the chair. He steepled his fingers, exhaling a shaky breath.
“Knock that shit off, kid.” came Knox’s voice, “This is my pity party, not yours.”
“What the fuck are you even hosting one for?”
A heavy, angry silence. Matthew took a drag off his cigarette, before flicking the butt toward the dinow. It bounced, sending a miniature barrage of sparks as it did.
“I let you down, Bert. I let the fans down. Levi, Hope, Mitch. Let myself down. Couldn’t beat Zane, Couldn’t beat Amber, Couldn’t earn a shot” He took a long swig of the pint then, draining what was left. His breath hissed at the burn, and he weighed the bottle in his hand, “Let myself believe my own bullshit. Acting like i’m not a forty year old with a broken down body and a big mouth.” a chuckle, bitter and dark.
“You went out there and gave it your all against two fucking monsters, Matt. No one can take a thing fro-”
“Save it, Bert. I went out there, and got bested at every turn. Just like they said I would. I’m not cut out for a run, not like I thought I was. Like you convinced me I was. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Oh, fuck you Matt.” Came Bert’s reply, he stood up to his full 5’10, walking over to stand in front of his drunk, high, self pitying train wreck of a best friend. He jabs his finger in his face, scowling as he spoke “You lost, shit happens. Don’t you fuckin dare mash that button, not when people care again! People besides me.”
“I’m not mashing any fucking button, Bert. And If I was, it’s none of your fucking concern anyway. You got Havoc, Insider, chasing Ade like a fucking lost puppy. I’m not your lot in life anymore.”
Bert felt the sting of the insult, looking away for a moment. Matthew’s eyes, glazed over as they were, softened as he realized what he had said “Christ, kid. I’m sorry..I’m just..” he shook his head, as Bert smiled sadly.
“Yeah. I get it.”
“The Fuck you do, but you will..”
Matt stood up, his hands slapping onto Bert’s shoulders maybe just a bit too hard, and squeezing just as hard. He stumbled, his friend’s hands firing out to catch and support him. Matthew leaned down, and stared into Bert’s eyes.
“Get the fuck out, and stay away from me. I’m fucking poison, Bert.” He pushed Bert away, walking toward the nightstand and reaching for the bottle of pills. Bert leapt then, snatching Knox by the wrist almost as simultaneously as he snatched the bottle of pills.
“No, dude! Fucking stop this shit, it’s one match!”
“Let go, Bert.”
“I said No, Matt! Fucking stop and THINK! This is the shit that ruined EVERYTHING last time! You do this, you’re exactly who they sai-”
“I SAID LET GO, BERT!”
Matthew swung wildly, too drunk to remember or acknowledge the extra weight in his hand. Before he knew it, he felt the thud up his arm, and the sting in his hand as the glass bottle of bourbon shattered within it, against Bert’s head. Time seemed to slow down as Bert toppled onto the mattress, hands instantly heading up to favor the wound.
“Shit..Shit, fuck Bert I’m sorr-”
He reached out to Bert, only to have his hand swatted away. Bert sat up, checking his fingers for blood. By some miracle, he managed to evade getting cut, at least bad enough to leak like a sieve. He stares up at his friend, drunk and dumbfounded. The sting of tears twisting his face, as he shot his gaze downward. His words come shaky, bitter.
“Fuck it, then. Fuck you, Matt. If this is where you’re going, if you’re so dead set on it i’m not gonna dig you out. Not again,” He wipes his hands over his face, standing up and bumping his chest into Knox, staring up into his eyes, his smaller frame vibrating with rage “You go in that hole, you go to rot you son of a bitch.”
And with that, He shoved past Matt Knox, who’s eyes remained cast downward. He stood still, flinching only when the slam of the door rang through his ears. He stared down at the prize in his hand. Vicodin-Acetaminophen 750/250. He snorts, weighing them in his hand and heading back to his seat, blindly reaching down by the chair and retrieving another pint of Jim Beam.
“Fucking fantastic job, Knox.”
He muttered bitterly to himself. He hesitated a moment, before leaning over and unplugging his phone from the charger, turning it on and doing what he dreaded most, opening Twitter.
The bottle of pills in his hand went from a soft weight, to an immense one, then to being a hot coal.
“I love you okay”
Matthew set his phone down, leaning forward and gripping the sides of his head. He felt the bottle of painkillers in his right palm, he let them drop, feeling them bounce off his shoulder and roll down toward the carpet.
What the fuck are you doing, Knox?
He straightened up, wiping at his nose and his eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Drunkenly, he reached back for his phone, pulling up the contacts list he thumbed through it until he came to the one he was looking for.
My Last Hope.
He pressed the green call button, swallowing a sob as he raised the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Dad.”