Voices in your head, are but the thoughts you try to suppress.

[// END FORWARD \\]

Monday, 19th January, 2015 - 9:37pm || Interstate 70 ||Between Indianapolis, IN and St Louis, MO

:: I place the filter of my 8mg Marlboro Gold cigarette between my lips and take a long draw back, listening to the paper and tobacco burn satisfyingly before inahling deeply and holding the toxic smoke in my lungs for a few seconds. I exhale, a cloud of smoke appearing suddenly and vanishing just as quickly through my semi-open drivers side window. I hang the cigarette outside the Mustang and flick the filter, the small portion of dead ash disappearing instantly into the night. The chilling night air whips at my face as I turn to look at Rodd, who is fiddling with his phone. God damn idiot has been driving me bat shit crazy for the last four hours, constantly complaining about my music.. and how hungry he is.. and how his legs are cramped.. and.. well, you get the idea. I finally decided to give in, partly because I've made him sit in that damn seat for ten hours straight, but mostly because I am sick of the sound of his voice.

A bassline. A Keyboard.

I turn and stare at Rodd for a moment, a vast and empty interstate ahead of me. I place the cigarette in my mouth and draw back once more, as Rodd turns the volume up and smiles at me, bouncing up and down in his seat.

Nothing's ever what we expect
But they keep asking where we're going next
All we're chasing is the sunset
Got my mind on you

I narrow my eyes and open my mouth slowly, allowing the smoke to filter out in Rodd's direction. He stops bouncing around and just stares at me for a moment as I lower the volume of the song slowly, the trumpets becoming mere background noise. ::

"What?"

"What? What the hell is this, Rodd?"

"Y.. You don't like it Monsieur? It's Robin Shulz.."

"Sounds like that bubblegum disco crap Michelle is always listening to.."

"Oui, t'was Michelle who showed it to me.."

:: I take another drag of my cigarette and fill my lungs with glorious tar before flicking the butt out of the window. Adjusting my gaze between Rodd and the long stretch of road ahead of me, I let out a long sigh, and one last cloud of smoke with it. Rodd shuffles awkwardly in her seat. ::

"Well, can you turn it off man? Right now, she is the last thing I want to be thinking about."

"What about..."

"And Gator."

:: Rodd switches the song off and sulks back into his seat, noticing the stern expression on my face. Up ahead, a smattering of small lights draws in from the distance, as on battered old sign on the side of the road reads "Welcome to Effingham". Noticing the sign, Rodd across at me. ::

"Uhm, Justin.. do you think maybe we could stop and get something to eat?"

"Rodd, do you ever think of anything other than your stomach?"

"We haven't eaten all day.. besides, I really need to go to the bathroom."

"Again?! For fucks sake Rodd, are you pregnant?"

:: I look to the clock in the centre console.. it is kind of late, I guess. ::

"Alright, look.. we'll grab something to eat and stop here for the night."

:: Rodd smiles as the lights become much larger and we approach the small town. Light sweeps over our faces like a strobe light in slow motion as we pass under each one. On the side of the road up ahead is a roadhouse. I flick on my indicators and shift back through the gears as we draw nearer. I wait for a car passing from the opposite direction before turning into the driveway. As the tyres make the transition from ashphalt to gravel, I can her the tiny rocks crunching underneath the weight of the Mustang, like coffee beans in a grinder. I pull up out front and kill the light first, followed by the engine. Opening my door and stepping outside, I become aware of how stiff I have become from driving all day, and extend my arms in a massive stretch.. I can feel and hear my back crackle back into place. Rodd closes his door and we both make our way inside. The diner is almost too brightly lit, it shows up the stained floor and scuffmarks on the tables and chairs. Rodd and I grab an empty table, of which there were plenty to choose from. The only other person in the diner was an old man, sitting there drinking his coffee and reading his paper. After but a minute or so of reading the menu, we are approached by an older waitress. ::

"Well howdy there, gentlemen. What can I get for you?"

:: I pause for a brief moment at the extreme southern twang in her voice, before ordering. ::

"I'll just take a coffee - extra shot, with cream. I'll also just take a chicken sandwich - wholegrain, lettuce, tomato, avacado, mushrooms, baby spinach, cheese and aoili."

:: The woman looks up from her order pad and smiles at me. ::

"Honey, I can do you a cheeseburger and fries?"

:: I consider her for a moment. I want to ask why she can't just make my damn sandwich, but I've had enough arguing over the last two days. ::

"Close enough."

"Oookay. And you, sweetie? Would would you like?"

:: Rodd blushes as he looks up from his menu. ::

"Madmoiselle.. may I please have 'ze cheeseburger and fries also.. some of your fried chicken.. and a slice of cheesecake?"

"Of course you can.. you want something to drink, sugar?"

"Ah, yes.. if I could have a diet pepsi, please. I am trying to watch my figure."

:: I stare at Rodd, my mouth agape and resting on my hand, pushing the skin up the side of my face. ::

"Alright gentlemen, I'll be back with your food shortly."

:: Snapping myself out of my coma, I grab the waitress by the wrist and she spins around, shocked. My gaze falls across her name tag before coming to rest on her face. ::

"I'm sorry, Doris, is it? We're actually looking for somewhere to bunk for the night.. any motels close by?"

:: Realising that I meant no harm in grabbing her wrist, the soft and welcoming smile returns to her face. ::

"You boys might try the Americas Best Value Inn down the road. It's not much, but if you're just looking for somewhere to rest your head for the night, it's serviceable."

"Thank you."

:: I offer up a soft smile as she takes her leave. The truth was, I didn't so much want somewhere to rest my head as I wasn't sure I could spend another four hours in the car with Rodd. The elderly gentlemen takes a slow sip of his coffee before placing his cup back on the counter and lowering his newspaper. He swivels slowly on his stool to face us, removing his wire-framed reading glasses as he does so. ::

"You boys going somewhere?"

"Not so much going somewhere, old timer. It's more like, getting away from somewhere."

:: He nods slowly, squinting his eyes slightly which causes the lines on his weathered face to crease even more. ::

"Y'know, running away from ones problems doesn't make them go away. They're still there, and they will be waiting for you when it is you see fit to go back and face them."

:: I was slightly offended. This old guy knew nothing about me, or my situation for that matter. I bite my tongue, however, and force a fake smile ::

"Thanks for the advice, pops."

:: I turn away from him, pulling my phone out of my pocket to see numerous missed calls from Gator, but none from Michelle. ::

"That being said, sometimes it can be good to get away and just clear your head. The mind is a powerful thing.. it can formulate even the most absurd of circumstances and force the conciousness of our being to believe it."

:: I didn't have a clue what this guy was on about. I turned to face him again, only to see him holding out a folded up piece of paper. ::

"Here."

"What is it?"

"Directions."

"Directions? To what?"

:: The old man lets out a soft chuckle, no doubt aimed at my brash skeptiscm. ::

"Forget your motel, you'll find no solace there. If what you seek is a place to escape and regain yourself, then you will need peace, tranquility. I have a place.. it's in the woods, by a lake. Very peaceful, very quiet.. just you, nature and your own thoughts. It's about forty miles north of here."

:: I pause for a moment, cautious as to why this old man wants to help me, or even if he can. I stare with trepidation at the piece of paper in his hand. It's true, what I am seeking is a place where I can just be away from everyone. After arguing with my own thoughts for what felt like five minutes, I slowly get to my feet and walk over to the counter, my boots thudding heavily on the tiled floor. I take the piece of paper from the old mans hand and unfold it, glancing over some very basic directions and a small map drawn on the bottom half of the page. ::

"How much do you want?"

:: The old man chuckles again. He places his glasses back on and pushes them up the bridge of his nose with his right forefinger. ::

"I don't want your money. I know who you are, and I know what it is that you do. What I don't know, is what it is exactly you are running from. That, is only for you. It might seem on the surface that it is obvious, but more often than not, it's far different to what your consciousness would have you believe. Find solace, Justin.. find what it is that you are running from, and confront it. I'm an old man, my time on this earth is drawing ever-nearer to a close. You have so much time.. it's best not to waste any of it, trust me. Good luck."

:: The old man turns back to his coffee and paper, without another word. I back away slowly, shifting my gaze between the old man and the paper in my hand. I slide back into my seat opposite Rodd, and examine the map briefly once more. I fold the paper back up and tuck it into the front pocket of my crisp, sapphire blue shirt. I look up at Rodd.. apparently our food had arrived, as Rodd was now stuffing his face.I grab my coffee and take a sip, thinking hard on the old mans words. Maybe he was right.. maybe I was completely off-track with the whole Gator and Michelle thing, though I knew I would be too stubborn to admit it. I set down my coffee and begin to eat the grease-filled burger in front of me as I start to think forward to my match at Turning Point once more, oblivious to everything else. ::

74 MINUTES LATER...

:: Rodd and I had paid for our food and had been back on the road for the better part of an hour now. I figured we must have been getting close to our destination, as the trees were beginning to thicken, the moonlight peeking out from behind the clouds casting ominous shadows across the landscape. I had been talking to Rodd about Turning Point for the last five minutes, as I'd spent the past hour before that thinking about it. ::

"I mean, honestly Rodd, don't they know who I am? I am Justin fucking Sane. For the past six weeks, I have pretty much been the number one guy in the XWF locker room. They put me in a match for the number one contendership for the TV Title, and what happened? I won it. They put me one on one with that pretty boy Lane, and what happened? I won it. Oh, and Star of the Month? Yeah, I won that too. What makes them think that Turning Point will be any different? Winning is what I do, it's just that damn simple. One way or another, I find a way. Week in, and week out, I get the job done."

"Uhm, Justin? 'ow exactly are you going to 'ear what any of these people in your match have to say about you if we are down 'ere in the middle of nowhere? My cell is already out of range."

:: I smirk wildly and chukle escapes my lips. ::

"Rodd, please. What does it matter what they have to say about me? I don't need to hear it, because it will be the same old shit everybody says about me. They'll make fun of my name.. they'll talk about the King of the Ring tournament and the fatal five-way match I lost, because they are the only two blemishes on my record. Vinnie? Yeah, he's got a big fucking mouth. I'm sure he'll talk about my crooked nose, or how he's closer to Gator than I am.. again, same shit - different day. Honestly Rodd, listening to a Vinnie Lane promo is so fucking bland and predictable that if I didn't hear the word "dude" 86 times, I would probably mistake it for Ghost Tanks work. Wait, remember that in case I have to film anything later this week, because that's the biggest fucking insult you could give someone."

:: We continue to drive down a winding dirt track through the trees, dust kicking up and clinging to the clear coat of the Mustang like Vinnie Lane is clinging to his fading career. ::

"Don't get me wrong, Rodd, I understand just how good Vinnie Lane is at his best. I've seen it. He is without a doubt, the one man who I will be most cautious of this week. The other two? Nothing but cannon fodder. I mean, honestly, how the fuck did TJ Wallace and Iris Oppenheimer get into this match in the first place? No doubt they both sucked some serious dick to make it happen. We all know how close Wallace is with MacClay, and Lane for that matter. I'm not complaining though.. the fact that he is in this match makes it even more certain that the man walking out with the prize will be yours truly! I'm a money in the bank briefcase holder, but you can bet your ass that I won't be needing it, Rodd. I'm not about to take some cheap way out and cash in on Samuels or Davids, because when I win that Universal Championship, nobody is going to be able to say that I don't deserve it."

"Uh, down there, Monsiuer."

:: Rodd had been reading the map and pointed out a small opening in the trees, where another narrow trail led down into the distance. ::

"And as for Oppenheimer? Well, that one puts me in a bit of a spot. I've never hit a woman, Rodd, ever. The fact she is in this match has me conflicted, but it is what it is. She puts herself in this position knowing full well what could happen to her out there. This is a mans world, that squared circle is no place for a woman, especially one who looks like she's on an acid trip twenty four, seven. Whatever, I'm sure that bushranger Wallace will keep her nice and busy. With any luck, those two will try to out-stupid each other and take themselves out of the picture, and leave the match as it should be.. Justin Sane versus Vinnie Lane, one on one. And just like every other time you re-make the classics, Rodd? You don't changing the ending."

:: Rodd chuckles nervously as I pull up in front of a small log cabin, netsled neatly in an opening of the surrounding woodlands. A lake sits off to the right hand side of the cabin, it's surface shimmering in the moonlight with a thin layer of mist hovering just above it. Exiting the vehicle, I whip out a cigarette and spark it up as Rodd clambours behind me. ::

"Fuck man, chill!"

"I don't like this place, Monsiuer."

"It's perfect."

:: Instantly I feel relaxed, this place is so secluded, as I was promised. I walk up the small stairs and wrap my right hand around the wooden handle on the door. With my left, I take another drag of my cigarette, before pushing the door open and gazing inside. My eyes first find the open fire place on the right hand side, then as my gaze moves to the left I see an old rocking chair in the corner, followed by a couple of single beds on the lef... my head snaps back to the rocking chair in the corner.. how did I not see it before?! ::

".......CorVus?"

"..."

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