Haunted
Scene One | Off-Camera
Smack. Slap. Bang. The sound of taped hands hitting a punching bag. Alex is punching away, sweating up a storm on the punching bag. His hands look a bit raw, the tape doing little to protect him from the continuous force and blows. His beard is dripping with sweat, and the small fuzz on top of his head shimmering with the beads of sweat and cold.
Early morning hours, the only light coming from the multitude of ceiling lights in the small gym he finds himself in. No one else was around at the time, which is somewhat strange. Normally there is one or two other gym junkies getting their early morning pump in. Today however, he was alone. Good Friday. It’d been a long time since the Easter weekend had really meant anything to him. Even as a kid, it wasn’t a major aspect or part of his life.
He was kind of glad for the silence today. It gave him time to just be alone with his thoughts. To be alone with the only person that was really sabotaging him these days. He continued pounding away on the bag, his knuckles threatening to give up beneath each of the blows. He breathed deeply, exhaling with each punch throw. Breathing in between each focused strike.
Easter Weekend and he was going to be getting beaten and bruised for Easter Sunday. It was therapeutic in a way. He could punish others for their insolence. Punish others in the way that he couldn’t punish himself. Be punished for simply existing. For wanting something more from life. For wanting to be part of something. To be fucking acknowledged. For people to stop staring down their nose at him.
A split knuckle, a splatter of blood landing where his fist did. Then another, and another. He didn’t pay attention to it. Continuing to hit away. Continuing to land blow after bloody blow.
“You’re going to kill yourself, rockstar.” A voice in his head said.
James’ voice. His body stiffened, and he stopped. Stopped before the next hit. Stopped before he busted his hand up anymore. Leaving himself a broken mess. He looked down at his hands. At the bleeding knuckles. At the tape that was soaked with blood and sweat. Hissing as the rush of pain finally came to him. He turned, looking around. He was alone. Of course he was alone. James was dead.
James was just another ghost of his mind. A kinder ghost, trying to soothe him. He breathed deeply, and grabbed his towel that was hanging over the top bar holding the bag. Dabbing his forehead, and then wiping his hands. The wounds were small. Just grazes, but enough to be speckling with those crimson beads. He breathed in deeply and picked up his water bottle. Taking a long drink.
“Who are you trying to hurt, daddy?” The voice again. A whisper into his very mind.
He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head a little. Attempting to shake the ghosts from his very mind. Drinking deeply from his bottle, face towards the floor. Swallowing heavily, he slowly opens his eyes. His mind refused to stop playing tricks on him. There James stood, shimmering and spectral. A ghost of his own creation. A hallucination. The image of a sick man.
“Please, Jimmy. Not now.” Alex managed to squeak out.
James’ ghost smiled and shook his head. Stepping forward and through Alex. Stepping past him.
“Sorry Rockstar. This is all you.” James said.
Alex turned and watched as the hallucination began to pace the nearby area. Pacing the floor of the gym. He wouldn’t look at Alex. Looking around, at the empty gym.
“Do you think what you’re doing is the right thing? Are you happy, baby?” James asked, instinctively cocking an eyebrow from beneath his sunglasses. Half turning back to Alex.
“I don’t know James. I really don’t. I keep trying to find ways to be the person I envision. To be the person I want to be. I’m out there, always trying to be better. I'm here trying to get stronger, quicker and better. We’re always in the fucking ring trying to be better. No matter how much I seem to try, I just can’t seem to get over that hurdle.” Alex said. No longer attempting to clear the hallucinations from his mind.
“Always living in other’s shadows. You’re a disgrace, Alexander.” Another voice this time.
His father. He could feel the cold and sharp hands on his shoulders. Threatening to squeeze around his throat. He didn’t need to see him to know the sneering look on his face. The look of disgust. Alex shrugged the hands off his shoulder and walked forward. Walked through James.
“I’m not living in anybody’s fucking shadow. I’m not you, Vater. I’m not someone who pretends that this is anything but my own fault.” Alex grumbled out.
“That’s not what it seems like, rockstar. You’ve always been self-hating, but you blame the world for it. You blame him.” James said coolly, turning to look at Alex. Looking past him, looking at the father Raven.
“Even your own friend doesn’t believe in you Alexander. How unfortunate. Maybe this is just a bit of schadenfreude for him, hm?” His father said, laughter following it.
Alex shook his head, screwing his eyes up again. Kneeling down on the floor, and pressing his bleeding fists against his temples. Pushing down. Attempting to push them from his mind. Pushing the ghosts out of his mind.
“Maybe it’s time to walk away from it all, sweetheart. Live your life with Luna. Live happily. Be happy.” Another voice.
Lauren. His dead wife. Apparently Easter brought all the dead back to life. He could feel the tears welling. His mind was attempting to tear him apart. The silence he was so desperate for was torn away by his very own brain. He knew they weren’t real. He knew that they weren’t, but no matter how much he tried. They just never left him alone.
“Please.” Alex croaked out, pounding his fists into the side of his head, over and over.
“Please leave me alone. Please, please.” He said, the tears beginning to fall now. His breathing is heavier now, on the edge of a panic attack. It had been so long since he had had a panic attack.
“You’re nothing but a mistake, Alexander.” His father said.
“You’ve got the power, daddy. You can fix this, I promise you.” James said.
“We love you, Alex. We just want what is best for you.” Lauren said.
He banged his hands on the ground, and yelled out. A visceral cry for help. A scream of pain, sadness and sorrow. He just sat there, screaming. Yelling, a mess of sadness and anger. Trapped in a hell of his own making. A suffering of his own.
“Leave me the fuck alone!” He yelled out between the cries of pain and agony.
And then silence. Sweet, beautiful silence. Moments passed by. His eyes slowly opening, his hands loosening. He was alone. He was alone again. Or so he thought.
“They’re back, aren’t they?” Luna asked as she stepped past him. Kneeling down in front of him. Hands on his cheeks. Holding his face, looking into his eyes.
“Why are they doing this to me?” Alex asked, his eyes filled with tears. A broken man, trying to find peace.
“I don’t want to wake up anymore, Lu.”
Show Me How To Wrestle
Scene Two | On-Camera
“Hello Benjamin, I see you got my message. Are you finally paying attention? Are you finally ready to face that of which you have started? I’m looking forward to this Benjamin. I’m looking forward to you showing me how to wrestle. That’s what you said, isn’t it? That you were going to show me how it was done? That it was going to ‘mess me up proper.’”The scene opens to a small gym, akin to that of a BJJ studio. Rolling mats laid out, small bits of tape laid down to indicate different starting spots. Alexander Raven is kneeling on the mats, sitting on his legs. Bare foot, a pair of plain black tracksuits, and a loose tank top. A crudely drawn picture of a dick stapled to the front of it.
“You might be right, Benjamin. If there is anything I’ve ever been honest about, it's that when it comes to this. To this business, to this sport. To wrestling as a whole, I’m not god’s gift. I don’t pretend to be the most technical athlete. I don’t pretend to be the best of the best. I’m no amateur turned professional. I don’t have the background, I don’t have the skill, I don’t have the acumen. These are things that I admit, because I am not afraid of the truth of who I am, Benjamin. I don’t care if people see me one way or another. I’m not a wrestler, I’m a fucking fighter. I’m a brawler, a battler and bare-knuckled boxer. I may not be a better wrestler than you, Benjamin. But I am a much better fucking fighter.”Alex slowly pushes up, rising to his feet, linking his hands together and rolling his wrists. Loosening himself up.
“I want you to think about this clearly, Benjamin. Who do you think people are more invested in right now? I’m offering you a renaissance of your career. I’ve been doing everything to get you fired up, to get you ready to fight. I’ve been going over and over it. I’ve attacked you, Luna has attacked you. I’ve threatened to turn you into a literal dickhead. Luna has done her very best to mash the brains and skull of Samantha Marlowe. We’ve even got ourselves a pretty little street fight lined up. I’ve done everything for you, Benjamin. And you haven’t even fucking thanked me for it. You’ve just talked down on me. You’ve just gone out of your way to belittle me.”Alex shakes his head, frustration etching its way across his features. He releases his hands from each other, balling his hands up into tight fists. Pressing them tightly against his temples.
“You haven’t even thanked me, Benjamin. I’ve done all of this for you, and you somehow think I’m the villain. No, no. Benjamin, I’m not the villain in this story. I am just a puppet of greater forces. Forces who won’t let me be free. I’m just a puppet of the people who pamper and give to people like you. Who placate fighters like me, but give us unenviable tasks so as to keep me blinded. But they’ve learnt now, Benjamin. They’ve learnt that I am no Michael Harris that they can simply cast aside when it so benefits them. That they can simply throw to the wind because they no longer enjoy playing with this toy. No, I’ve got them trapped now, Ben. Because I want to be free. I want to be let loose, I want my contract ended. I made the call and I was fucking denied it.”He begins to grind his fists against his temples, shaking his head back and forth vigorously. His eyes closed tight, the anger heavy on his features.
“So now, I’m trying to give back. To build layabouts like yourself into something worthwhile. To teach ‘wrestlers’ and ‘kings’ how to be the fucking fighters they need to be. To be the fighters needed to fight off the machinations and manipulations of these puppeteers that deem themselves fucking gods of us. But I’m the villain for wanting to behead these bastards that think themselves above us. And you’re taking their side Benjamin. Everyone takes their side. But that’s okay. Truly, I understand, Benjamin. We’ll walk into Climax Control. You’ll swing your gusto and bravado around. You’ll flex and you’ll mess me up proper. You’ll put on a masterclass in wrestling and make me look the fool. Punish me for punishing you. Placate your masters and beg for their acknowledgement. So the two of you, you and Samantha, can go and get your wind back and take those Mixed Tag Team championships.”He begins to pound the sides of his head with his fists now. Eyes still screwed tightly shut, his mouth pulled into a sharp sneer. Flecks of spittle flying from his mouth.
“Yet, maybe, I’ve finally gotten under your skin this time, Ben. See what I did to Jamie Dean, well. That was a message. A message that I don’t care if you can wrestle. I don’t care if you think I’m talking shit, making ‘bad jokes’ and pretending to be something I’m not. I do not live in delusion, I do not live in lies. I am who I am and I do not pretend to be anything else. I want you fired up, I want you to be ready to go to fucking war. If it takes hurting those around you to get you there, then I will hurt every single person between us. I will break every person you love, if that is what it takes to get you to stop being this prim and proper, cockney fucking asshole. Anyone can swing a chair, but only those who want to hurt someone can swing it properly. Anyone can brawl, but only those with the passion and hatred can do it well. Anyone can be you, Benjamin; but nobody can be Alexander Raven.”His pounding stops, and a wash of calm comes over his face. A deep breath in, and a smile crossing his face. He slowly reaches into his pocket, and removes a heavy duty staple gun. Reaching into another pocket he slowly removes a folded up piece of paper.
“You haven’t even said thank you, Benjamin. That’s the worst part of all of this. I’ve done everything for you. I’ve done everything to help you. To make you a better wrestler, a better fighter. A smarter man, a more observant man. I’ve done everything I can do to light the fire under your ass, and you haven’t even thanked me. Why do you hate me, Benjamin? Why do you pretend to be a paragon of virtue, a man who lives with his life on display, yet you spew such hate for me. Hate for someone who has done nothing but try to make you better? That’s where we are different, Benjamin. I do this for everyone. I do what I do because I need them to be better. I need people to be true. And I know I’m repeating myself here, I’m well aware of it. See, I go in circles. Over and over.”Alex begins to walk, walking in a small figure eight. Three or four steps each way. Lifting the piece of paper that had been folded up in his pocket and fiddling with it. Slowly unfolding it.
“But that’s because I feel like a trapped animal, Ben. I feel like I am stuck here, perpetually stuck. That no matter what I do, I’m banging against the steel bars of my cage. So when I see an opportunity to lure in one of the jailors. Then I have to do what I have to do. If that means, shoving a spike through your fucking eye, then so be it. If that means stapling things to your head, then so be it. If that means, I have to hurt those that matter to you to make you pay attention, then so fucking be it Benjamin. I’m so tired of pretending to be a good person. I’m so tired of pretending to be something I’m not. I’m so tired of being here.”He places the now unfolded sheet against his forehead, and then presses the staple gun up against it. The snap sound of the staple embedding into his flesh. Sticking the paper to his forehead. Conveniently short enough to keep his mouth clear, but his eyes now hidden. A small stream of blood began to flow down his face. Like tears of blood. On the paper it simply read:
‘ETERNAL PRISONER’.
“Are you willing to face that which lies before us? This is not the end, Benjamin. This is a taste. This is a warning. This is the beginning. We walk into Climax Control, a bull ready to kill and the bird that has been mocking it for weeks. This is just a warm-up, Ben. Because a smart manipulator knows. The bull can be put to the sword early, if need be. That the charging animal, as deadly as it is, is the easiest to catch with a hidden blade beneath the waving flag. So I have to question you Ben. Can you keep your focus for just another few weeks? Or do you get put to the sword and laid to rest. You demanded this, because I put the fear of God into you. Will you regret it, when you’re too broken, battered and bruised to protect those that matter the most to you? I’m looking forward to being free, for just a minute Benjamin. To have those shackles released, to have the freedom to be who I am. To be who everyone seems to think I am, because I choose to be that person. The tireless beast. The man who can swing a jar, jab a spike and choke with a pole.”He slowly begins to sit once more. Placing the stapler beside him, sitting cross-legged on the map. He turns his face down a little, the blood dripping from his chin onto the mat beneath him.
“I’m tormented by the ghosts of my past, Benjamin. Pulling and tearing me every which way. I can hear my father mocking me. Laughing that I can’t get to the heights I did at the start of my career. I can hear my dead ex-wife, begging me to stop. Begging me to forgive myself. To forgive others for their actions. I can hear my dead former friend and destroyer of my life. I can hear him telling me how I’m just not quite as good as him. How I will always be less than the man who took everything I ever loved. I can hear my dead best friend. My brother-in-law. The only man in my life that ever showed me absolutely unconditional love. I can hear him, telling me to stop hurting myself. To stop hurting those around me. To stop the pain. To stop destroying myself. I’m plagued by the ghosts of my past, Benjamin. I need to drown their voices out, and do you know how I drown them out? How do I stop them from tormenting me?”He raises his hand smearing the drops of blood across his face. Then picks up the staple gun once more. Pressing it against his cheek, and stapling. And then to the other cheek and stapling again. All three sticking deep into the flesh beneath the paper.
“I bleed, Ben. I bleed and I bleed. I fight and I fight. I look at the next thing in front of me, and charge headlong into it. That’s how I stop it. You’re a means to and end for me, Benjamin. This was never personal, no matter what you may see it as. These actions weren’t for you. They were for me. It’s hypocritical, I know. I demand thanks from you, but that exists in its own reality. I demand thanks because I’ve given you a fire that you needed. I’m using you to drown out my demons. To drown the ghosts of my past. This is a two way relationship, and I just need you to see it. Can you see it, Benjamin?”He leans forward, reaching up and ripping the paper from his face. The staple pin pricks dribbling down blood. His mouth smeared from earlier.
“Are you listening to me now, Benjamin? Are you paying attention?”
“The Conspiracy is here.”And then.
Nothing.
Darkness.
Silence.
