All roads.. Have led you here!

[// END FORWARD \\]

Monday, 19th January, 2015 - 9:29am || Sane Residence || Philadelphia, PA

:: My hands reach out and latch on to the rough surface that surrounds my pool, but I don't drag myself to its surface - not yet. I stay submerged and take in the sheer tranquility of the moment, feeling sheltered from the world. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, if only for a moment. Since defeating Austin Fernando and finding my way into the number one contenders match at Turning Point, the opportunity that is now before me has consumed my thoughts, to the detriment of my relationships with those closest to me. I know I have been more distant, but surely they should understand my situation.. shouldn't they? Fuck it, I don't even know why I care, but I do. As I allow some of the oxygen stored in my lungs to escape through my nose and watch the bubbles float gracefully to the surface, I begin to think of the event of last night, as much as I don't want to. I close my eyes.. I can still see the look on her face as she turned her gaze from mine one last time. ::

THE NIGHT BEFORE...

:: If the beer sitting on the coffee table in front of me was a fuel tank, it would have been sitting on empty for about half an hour now. I'm too engrossed with the controller in my hands to get a fresh one. Call me old school, but I had decided to ditch the PS4 and FIFA for the night and instead, brought out the PS2 and fired up San Andreas.. hey, you just can't beat the classics. Gaming is a great form of escapism, and I needed one.. it was the first time all week that I hadn't been banging my head against the wall trying to get Turning Point off my mind. I hear yelling coming from elsewhere in the house, but my I am so fixated with Big Smoke's lying, treacherous ass, that it's just dull background noise. That is, until Michelle walks in front of me, dragging two suitcases behind her.. one pink, the other jet black. I try and look around her, continuing to play the game. ::

"Justin!"

:: I ignore her at first, clubbing a police officer to death on the sidewalk and then stealing his cruiser. She lowers her face down into my eye line. ::

"JUSTIN!"

"What?!"

:: I pause the game and throw the controller angrily into the cushion beside me. Michelle lets go of the bags and places her hands on her hips, her medium-length dark brown hair swept over to the left, gracefully falling around the side of her face. ::

"I packed your bags."

"My what? Babe, it's Sunday.. where on earth do you think we're going?"

:: I should have racked my brain a little harder before I spoke. The look in her eyes told me everything that I needed to know. I had fucked up. Big time. ::

"My parents house, Justin! You promised you would come to Boston for a few days and meet them, remember?"

:: I did remember, now that she had mentioned it. Until that point, I was completely clueless. ::

"Ah shit, baby I'm sorry.. I completely forgot about that."

"What is with you lately? This past week it's like you've been on a different planet."

"It's just my match this week at Turning Point. The closer it gets, the more I think about it."

"Well then, a few days away from everything should do you the world of good."

"I'm sorry, what?"

:: I look up at Michelle, confused. ::

"Michelle, we can't actually go? Do you realize what this match means to me?"

:: Instantly, the look on Michelle's face turns sour as she stares down at me, her steely blue gaze piecing me like a knife. When she speaks, her tone is cold and harsh, and the volume is much louder than before. ::

"Justin, are you fucking kidding me right now?! We've had this planned for weeks!"

"That was before I knew I was going to be competing for a shot at the Universal title!"

"Oh, would you just stop?! I get that your career is important Justin, but what about me?! You've barely spoken a word to me all week, or anyone else for that matter! You sit here watching old matches, lost in your own little world!"

"That's because this match is what's fucking important to me right now! You just don't get it Michelle, you say you understand, but you never have!"

:: The level of my voice had raised without me even realizing it, and somehow I was now standing on my feet, looking down at Michelle. ::

"Oh please, what's to understand? You get in the ring with another guy and try to render each other unconscious. You know, I really thought that you'd started to get your head straight, but clearly I was wrong. You're just as fucking obsessed with yourself as you always were!"

"Fuck off."

:: SLAP! Before I knew it, her right palm had made solid contact with my jaw. I was in shock, so I did nothing but stand there. ::

"Don't you ever speak to me like that! But, you know what? I will fuck off, because unlike you, I don't break my promises. I'm going to my parents house, as we had arranged."

"For fucks sake Michelle, do you always have to overreact about everything?! So I can't go to your parents this week, big fucking deal! We can go some other time."

"This isn't just about seeing my parents, Justin! It's about the fact that you are so consumed by your career and your own ego, you can't even keep simple promises. You told me Rodd would be gone in two days.. it's been two fucking weeks. You promised me you'd meet my parents, and yet you couldn't even remember agreeing to it. You push everyone close to you away, just because you are so driven to succeed in the XWF! What about ten years from now, Justin?! Huh? What happens when you can no longer wrestle anymore? You'll sit in an empty room, surrounded by your championships and your awards, watching re-runs of yourself and spend every day wishing you didn't pushing everyone away so you had somebody to fucking share it with."

:: I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Her words cut me pretty deep, but hurt is only one of the many negative emotions that are freely flowing through my body right now. She looks at me expectantly, but realizing that I am not about to offer her a response any time soon, she grabs the handle of her suitcase and slowly nods her head with a false smirk on her face. ::

"Lost for words? That'd be a first. Good luck in your match. If you ever manage to win that belt, you can ask it to suck your dick for you."

"Michelle.."

:: It was too late, she had already turned and walked out of the room. ::

PRESENT TIME...

:: Realizing that my lungs are depleted of oxygen and feeling the tight pain in my chest, I grip the rough edge of the pool and thrust myself upward, opening my mouth and gasping for air as my head breaks the waters surface. I lean against the edge of the pool as I catch my breath, breathing deeply as beads of water trickle down my face and neck. I bring my right hand to my face, using it to wipe the water from my eyes before running it through my hair. I pull myself up onto the side of the pool and sit there, my legs dangling freely into the water below. Reaching to my left, I grab a large white towel, using it to dry my face and hands. I hear the back door slide open, and Rodd walks out carrying my phone and a couple of beers. He sits down beside me and hands me a beer. ::

"Thanks, Rodd."

:: I rip the top off and neck the beer. Rodd doesn't open his, but instead hands me my phone. ::

"You received a message from Gator, Monsieur Sane."

:: I unlock my phone, but before I can check the message, Rodd speaks again. ::

"Monsieur, I feel I owe you an apology. What 'appened last night wiz' Michelle.. t'would never 'ave 'appened if I 'ad not come along."

"Ahhh, Rodd, it's not your fault man."

"But you and Michelle were fine before Monsieur Gator left me wiz' you! I feel as though I 'ave caused tension between you two."

:: Rodd hangs his head as he removes the cap from his beer and takes a swig. ::

"Look, Rodd.. while it's true that Michelle isn't particularly happy with our arrangement 100% of the time, that's not why we had the fight. It was my fault, not yours. You've probably noticed that my mind has been elsewhere this week, and Michelle kind of felt neglected, I guess. She's a woman, they're like that.. she'll come round eventually."

"Well I 'ope so, you two are wonderful together."

:: I look over at Rodd and offer a weak smile, before patting him on the back twice. I take another swig from my drink and look down at my phone. I go to read Gator's text and notice two new messages. Not thinking straight, I start replying after reading the first, not even fully processing the second message straight away. ::

:: I can feel my face becoming hot as my temper rises. First fucking Michelle, and now Gator.. seriously, what the fuck? DING! I hear my phone go off, but I am too furious to even care what he has to say. I jump to my feet, my legs making a small splash as they are withdrawn from their watery sanctuary. I storm off towards the house and head inside, water dripping rather quickly off my shorts and onto the carpet beneath my feet. Rodd clambers to his feet and follows. ::

"Monsieur Sane?"

"Fuck off, Rodd."

:: I grab my keys to the V8 Ford Mustang Shelby GT and head over to the fridge, retrieving a six pack of beer. ::

"Grab that suitcase and get your ass in the car."

"You want me to come with you?"

"No. I just don't want you in my fucking house by yourself. Now, move."

:: Rodd grabs the suitcase and shuffles awkwardly to the front door, as I follow behind him. I walk outside and the weak sunlight offers me little warmth as my damp skin catches the soft breeze. I pop the trunk and Rodd places my suitcase in and closes the lid. Gator's text is still fresh in my mind, and I'm already formulating a hundred different theories in my head, each of which seems more treacherous and likely than the last. Both Rodd and myself hope into the car and I start the beast up, putting all 662 horsepower to the test as I drop my foot the the floor and rev the engine, attempting to release some of my anger through the powerful V8 under the hood. I reach over with my left hand and throw it into reverse, screaming out of the driveway. Before the car has even come to a stop, I throw in in first gear and take off, the g-force throwing my head back into the custom leather seats. Rodd appears terrified in the passengers seat as I grab a beer and bite the lid off it, before draining about half. ::

"Uhm.. Monsieur Sane.. where exactly are we going?"

"The fuck should I know? Anywhere but here. I just need to get out of this fucking place for a while."

"Maybe you could go to Boston after all?"

:: I whip my gaze around in Rodd's direction, shooting him a telling look. He leans away from me. ::

"Fuck Boston! Fuck Michelle and fuck Gator too! That snake, how could he do this? I mean seriously, I know the guy is friends with Lane, but wishing him luck in his match against me this week? How the fuck does he think that makes me feel? He's supposed to have my back, and now I feel like I need to be watching it!"

"Monsieur Gator is not really like that.. I'm sure it is all a big mizunderstanding."

"Fuck your misunderstanding, Rodd, I saw the text message. Gator is clearly pulling for Lane, and you know what? That's just fine. I don't need him anyway. Everything I have done here in the XWF, I have done by myself. If that's the way Gator wants to treat his friends, so be it. I don't sweat that pretty boy Lane one single bit. I've beaten his ass before, and I can damn sure do it again. It makes no difference that TJ Wallace and Iris Oppenheimer are involved either, as far as I'm concerned, they're not even a factor. The world knows that it's going to come down to Justin Sane and Vinnie Lane, and when it's all said and done, the result will be the same as last time. Maybe after Turning Point, Gator can send Vinnie a text and ask him how his hospital bed is."

:: I drain the rest of my beer and toss the empty bottle onto the floor between Rodd's feet. I grab another bottle and go to open it, but my phone rings. I look down and see Gator's stupid face looking back up at me. I reach down and click the lock button, sending the screen to black and eliminating the sound. ::

"Uhm, forgive me, but per'aps you are overreacting just a bit?"

:: I take an exit onto the highway as I chuckle in disbelief at Rodd's words. ::

"Overreacting? You think I am overreacting, Rodd? This is the biggest week of my life.. if I win my match at Turning Point, I become the number one contender for the Universal Championship. This business is my life, and that belt proves to the world that I am without a doubt, the absolute best that there is. Period. So what happens just six days away from the biggest match of my career? My girlfriend goes psycho and walks out on me, and one of the very few people on this earth I considered a friend has turned his back on me for some lycra wearing retard who just happens to be one of the guys I am facing this week. It's not an overreaction Rodd, it's fucking reality."

:: I lift my gaze slowly to the sign which hangs over the road, deciding on a whim that I am heading to Kansas, for no particular reason whatsoever. My phone rings again - it's Gator - but I don't answer.::

"I'll tell you something though, as bad as this is for me, it's even worse for the other three people in this match. Because now I'm fucking pissed off! If you thought I was dangerous when my mind was clear and focused, then you can't even begin to imagine what happens when I allow myself to lose control. I'm rocking into the Pepsi Center like a fucking hurricane with a chip on my shoulder, and I'm walking out with what is rightfully mine, the number one contendership to the XWF Universal Championship!"

:: The cocktail of emotions running through my body have set the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I throw the Mustang into top gear and open her up en-route to Kansas. What I will find when I get there, I have no idea, but it won't be Gator or Michelle.. and right now, that's good enough for me. ::

T O. B E. C O N T I N U E D . . .