The night had already dragged on for hours, and by the time that they’d finally gotten me into the emergency room the swelling in my knee was unparalleled to anything anyone had ever seen. My screams had been filled with more pain than I could have ever imagined, and when the doctor finally arrived to my room he’d stared at me with eyes filled with concern. The look he’d given me that night was more terrifying than the injury it’s self, and immediately the doctor had ordered for x-rays and an MRI. The damage to my knee was evident, and now there only remained one question to be answered and that was about the severity of my current hindrance. The doctor slowly stepped forward, and he’d looked at my knee before pressing his fingers down to feel the extent of the swelling. He stopped dead in his tracks as he felt the give that the skin had behind it before it came close to hitting anything that resembled a usual mass.

The doctor turned slowly, and he walked out of the room with a look of dim hope in his eyes. The doctor walked far, and he walked fast, the sound of his footsteps had etched themselves into my mind. That’s when I’d turned, and behind the curtain beside me there stood a tall man. That man though had somewhat of a hunch on his back, and he looked as if he’d ventured into the pits of hell time and time again. The man on the opposite side of the curtain was slowly making his way to seated position on the bed. The nurse that sat in the room with him appeared to try to keep her distance, or at least out of arms reach as if she knew some secret about the old man that no one else knew. At the same time though I followed the movements of his head up and down, and they way his eyes froze and became fixated on certain parts of her anatomy. He was an obviously a dirty old man, and as the nurse had stepped out of the room you could tell he was almost salivating at the sight of her round and voluptuous ass.

“You know back when I was about your age my family didn’t have enough money to afford health care, and whenever we suffered an injury on the farm we just had to pull through it,” said the voice from the other side of the curtain, “and we know what it meant when someone did arrive in the hospital. Back when I was growing up there were things that were sacred, and one of the things that we had respect for back in my day was our money. We used to just conserve it, and we’d respect how hard we’d had to work to gain the riches we’d earned. Now look at you! Your generation can just go out, and step into a damn ring for twenty minutes get your ass beat, and make more damn money than most doctors, teachers and emergency service employees put together. How does that make any sense to you at all?”

“Excuse me?” I replied, the look on my face had obviously adapted and taken shape of that of a man lost at sea with no recollection of every getting onto a boat, “are you talking to me?”

“Of course I’m talking to you! You snobby little son of a bitch, you and your generation don’t have any respect for your elders like we did back in my day,” snaps the voice of the man that sounded less like a human, and more like a man that’d died and been re-incarnated into the disgusting living-dead hand of the devil himself, “you need to be taught a damn lesson, and if I didn’t have this damn hip problem I’d be over there bashing you in the damn knee with my cane! There is a lot you can learn from this lesson, and at the same time there is a lot you can lose just as fast. You just have to be willing to take hold of that guiding light and allow it to be your guide through the darkest nights, and brightest days. That is the only way you’ll truly reach that level you strive to achieve, and no matter how hard you strive with no guidance you’ll end up dead in a gutter. I’ve seen it happen to the best of us, and I’ve seen it happen to the worst of us. Death doesn’t care who you are, and as soon as you leave yourself vulnerable he’ll grasp hold of you by the throat and choke the life right out of you!”

“What do you know about the road that I’ve traveled in my life?” I snap back from my side of the curtain before I reach down and grasp hold of my knee out of sheer agony, “you haven’t been in my shoes, and you haven’t lived my life. You haven’t worked as hard as I have in the past month, and you never will. I’ve given up everything I’ve ever loved, and I’ve worked hard to achieve everything I’ve strived for. There has been times when I’ve failed, and times that I’ve succeeded! I’ve coped with those times, and I’ve dealt with worse than this on my own. Now if you don’t mind I don’t need some tenth grade history lesson from some miserable old bastard, while I’m laying in a damn hospital bed…”

“You were born on the eight of April back in 1978, and you were given the name Joshua Tupper at the time,” interrupted the old man, as his voice began to fill with strong conviction and pride, “your parents were Phillip and Kathie respectively, and at no time were you granted the amount of love that you desired or needed growing up. Your parents got a divorce when you were merely six, and they both went there separate ways. You opted to follow your mother’s footsteps rather than travel directly into the blunt and uncalled for blows of your father’s fist. When your parents separated you took on the name Joshua Richards not only to protect your family, but also to detach yourself from the Tupper name. It wasn’t all roses though, and your mother remarried a man that loved the business you now find yourself head over heals inside. He suffered an injury in the ring though, and later that night in hospital he succumbed to the head trauma that he’d sustained. Your mother never actually blamed you directly for his death, but you could see it in her eyes that she wasn’t one hundred percent confident in the fact that your encouragement hadn’t pushed him to the brink. She’d always thought if you hadn’t of been sitting in the front row that night that maybe he wouldn’t of attempted to climb that ladder that one last unnecessary time. After you separated yourself from your mother you assumed the last name Payne, after a childhood nickname you’d received in the rear of some of the arenas. You immediately began to train, and you pushed yourself to the limit each and every time you stepped into the ring. It was obvious you had something to prove, and you wanted to honestly avenge the death of your stepfather. After a few years of jumping around from federation to federation you landed yourself a spot on the Chaos Heat Zone roster, and you’ve been back and fourth since then. Now don’t tell me I don’t know anything about you, because I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do.”

“Big deal,” I fired back defensively, all the while trying to contemplate in my head how he’d know about the multiple name changes I’d undergone throughout my life, “everyone knows that kind of stuff. Everything about me has been well documented on television, in files, and in books about my life that many have reaped benefits from. That may be impressive but it’s not something that any avid psychotic fan wouldn’t have the knowledge of. I mean from time to time there are stories emphasized on my website about my life, you may have just read all of those.”

“If I was just some avid fan how would I be able to tell you that you’ve been diagnosed with a fear of commitment? How would I be able to tell you that you broke up with your high school girlfriend because she mentioned the word marriage?” replies the old man, with a tone that almost demanded victory in it, “those are just things that you can’t learn by reading internet articles Joshua. Even though you told everyone that you’d cheated on her, and she’d found out that wasn’t true. You’re afraid of everything that has ever come your way, and there is nothing that you won’t do to avoid a long-term commitment. You’ll stay for drinks, and you’ll stay for dinner but as soon as someone mentions the after party you’re already halfway down the steps and ready to get into your car. There are a lot of chapters in your life that you’ve left blank, and a lot of books you’ve left unread but there comes a time when those books must be closed and those pages must be filled in.”

It was that moment that I was entirely speechless that the doctor finally returned from where ever it was he’d departed to, and two hospital attendants followed closely behind him. The two men quickly unlocked the wheels of my bed, and they’d begun to push frantically out the doorway steering down the hallway between stretchers like a Nascar driver weaving through his opponents during his Chase for the Cup. The doctor was leading the stretcher, and he’d been setting a decent pace with a quick run as he was motioning with his arm to get me into X-Ray as quickly as possibly. It was in that moment that everything had started to slow down for me, and so many things had begun to flood into my head. It was obvious that my wrestling career was in jeopardy, and the only thing that wasn’t obvious was the severity of my injury.

I have no other skills besides wrestling is the only thing that I could think to myself as the doctor slowly slid a heavy cover over the rest of my body as he slid my knee directly under the lens. He’d already scampered out from the open area, and hidden himself behind a large metal door. The doctor slowly pressed down on a button before re-emerging to rotate my knee into a different position. Every motion that my knee took was just another second of shooting pain I was set to endure, and with each passing moment my tolerance for the pain grew less and less. I didn’t want to find myself broken down and in tears, and yet a part of me knew that is exactly where I was destined to find myself. The doctor had finished faster than I’d ever seen before, and the attendants promptly removed me from the room as a victim from a car accident was rushed into the room. The attendants wheeled me back to the room, and the doctor followed very closely with my X-Rays in hand. It was obvious the doctor had already determined the diagnosis, and he was ready to correct the problem as he pulled on his pair of surgical gloves. The doctor looked down at me, and the attendant placed his hand on my shoulder drawing my attention away from the man that stood just inches away from my knee. SNAP! The doctor wrenched down hard on my knee, and it was evident that whatever was hindering my ability to breathe properly had been slightly corrected. The doctor looked down at me one last time, and he picked up his chart, scribbled a few things down and began to exit the room.

“Your history indicates that you’ve had a severe bout with addiction to pain killers, so the only thing I can suggest to control the pain is a lot of ice, and heat treatments followed by a lot of bed rest,” calmly and yet quietly said the doctor, “the knee cap was apparently dislocated, and applying severe pressure on all of your tendons and ligaments. I’ve corrected the problem temporarily, but you’re going to need to visit your family physician in a couple of weeks to make sure that there is no permanent damage done. Just so you know your knee is going to be swollen, and abnormally sore for the next couple of days but after that you should slowly regain any and all mobility, and use of the knee. If it’s absolutely possibly I want you to keep any weight off of that knee for the next two weeks.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said through my gritted teeth, and for the first time that night a smile had come across my face, be it a pain filled smile it was a smile nonetheless, “I really appreciate all of your help here tonight. Personally I’m just glad to here that there is no permanent, or serious damage. I had been fearing the worst all night, and now that it isn’t as bad as I thought I feel so much better than you could ever imagine.”

Here I was in the middle of a hospital in the middle of New York City, and I had nothing left in me. I used to find myself filled with complete and utter hate, but now that anger that once fueled me had diminished and I was alone in this world. Emily and I had parted ways so that she could fly back to Vancouver so she could spend New Years Eve with her family, while I’d stay and compete at New Years Evil. At this point I wasn’t even sure if she was aware of my injury, or at this point truly cared. She’d told me before she got on the plane that any injury I suffered would be on my head, and that she’d have nothing to do with it. This was my injury, and this was my punishment for not listening to the warnings she’d heeded in my direction.

I was blind to the warnings that she’d given me, and the warning signs that were evident before I’d stepped into the ring. I’d been struggling with a heavy amount of fatigue, and yet slowly I’d become more overtaken by the weight on my shoulders that had begun to overpower me. For months I’d battled with my insecurities, and at times even the things I felt most secure with. I’d created a man out of my own imagination to fill the void that I couldn’t even begin to see for myself. I even gave that man a name, and allowed for him to control my every action, that man was Herman.

I slowly reached out, and I grabbed hold of the crutches that lay resting against the side of my bed. I slowly used the crutches to pull myself to my feet, not applying any pressure to my injured knee. The clock had struck three, and I was barely able to move forward with my life without being forced to look back upon the damage that’d been done to my body. I’d lived by the sword that I’d molded for battle, and yet it be the same striking blow I’d finished off opponents with that had been my maker this evening. You can say that I overestimated the situation, or you can say that I dealt with it properly; no matter your perception I was the only one who knew the truth.

“Wait for me Josh!” screamed the voice from behind the other curtain, “you and I can share a cab. It’ll give us some more time to talk, and maybe I’ll be able to talk some damn sense into your head. You’re really going to need to get yourself a helpful partner, and it’ll be vital at this point when you’re vulnerable to all kinds of injuries. Now you just wait up for old Mr. Jordan, and I’ll be right with you as soon as I can get this damn belt buckle done up. NURSE!”

“Listen Mr. Jordan, or whatever you want to call yourself I’m not interested in sharing a cab with you,” I reply, my teeth gritting out of pure pent up rage and frustration, “I’m going to go back to my hotel, and I’m going to go to sleep. I’m not going to worry about you, or any of the stuff that’s happened tonight. I’m just going to go back to my hotel room, close my eyes, and fall asleep for the rest of the night. Then tomorrow morning when I wake up I’m going to crutch out of bed, and walk down the hallway get in the elevator and have some breakfast in the restaurant. All of this I’ll be doing on my own, and no matter what you think Mr. Jordan that’s how it’s going to be.”

“You and your damn generation have no respect…” I look over at the curtain with my eyes almost piercing through the cloth and staring at the man with pure anger in my eyes, and he stops dead in the middle of his sentence.

“What about my generation? Let me guess, we have no respect for our elders?” I ask rhetorically, “well you want a damn answer, how is this for you? I don’t care what you think about me, because right now I’m sitting here staring into the two-way mirror that is my life and I hate myself. I don’t need to worry about anyone else hating me, because I’ve got enough hate rushing through my veins for the both of us. Now if you want to contribute your two cents write me a damn letter, and date it ten years ago when opinions actually mattered to me.”

I turn towards the doorway, and I extend my crutch much to the dismay of the elderly man standing behind the curtain next to me. I crutched hard, and I crutched fast down the hallway around all the obstacles and directly into the elevator. I pressed the button for the main floor, and the elevator promptly took me from the third floor down to the main floor where an awaiting stretcher sat ready to be hoisted to the floor I’d just exited. On the stretcher lay a young boy, his chest convulsing as he rapidly shot up and down on the stretcher. The paramedics attempted to grasp hold of the boy’s chest, and hold him in a resting position but to no avail. I slowly step out of the elevator, and I turn around only to watch the paramedics attempt to resuscitate the boy. Slowly the doors closed, and that chapter of my life had prematurely ended with no sort of closure or consequence.

My journey outside of the hospital was more difficult than I’d ever imagined, and as I’d looked from side to side there were people strung out all over. Some of those people held clothes over their limbs trying to prevent the loss of blood, and some of those people stood with their limbs dangling. Some of these injuries are life threatening I remember thinking to myself as I looked down horrified at my knee, which seemed a lot less important at this point. This was a first for me, and not something I was used to feeling. It was evident to me though, and that was the fact that I was caring for someone who wasn’t myself, and whose name I didn’t even know. I flagged down a cab as quickly as humanly possible, and I immediately handed the drive a business card to the hotel I was staying at.

The cab pulled to a stop directly in front of the main door to my hotel, and I slithered my way out before tossing the driver a couple of twenties. Now here I was standing at the base of the jail that had confined me for years, and though the luxury suite was the door that my key would open it felt like an iron-walled prison. For years hotel rooms have been my home, and at no time could I get the chance to settle down. There had been a few different women on the road that I’d traveled, and each of them had taken one thing from me that I’d never retrieve. Each woman that I’d ever loved took the home we’d invested in, and be it that the homes were paid for by my paycheck I couldn’t see a point in returning there. The homes were cursed with walls that had been stained with tears, and rooms that’d been tainted with hate. I’d lost everything that I’d work for numerous times, and all I could ever do was sit around and wait for brighter days.

I walked into my hotel room that night, and I hadn’t even considered getting undressed. I crutched myself over to my bed, and I lay down with my head buried deep within my pillows and my face drowning in the filth I’d created. It hadn’t taken me long to drift into a slumber, and the abyss that I’d created for myself was the only refuge from the pain my knee provided, and the emotional pain that surpassed all my physical ailments. Here I lay one last time in the hell I’d created, and here I lay once and for all, hoping my body would remain at rest permanently.

The night was long, and empty, no painful nightmares to haunt me while I slept, and tried to repair myself for the day that I’d be forced to face. Never would I be granted the easy way out, no, I’d be the one left to rot after all are dead and gone and the world has come to it’s untimely demise. Alone I’d rest, the streets empty, and the only person around to keep me company was I. There was no Herman to talk to, and it was more evident now than ever that Herman never really existed. This would just be another one of those days when I’d put on a smile and go out to face the cold, and harsh world alone.

I lifted myself to my feet slowly, and I grasped hold of my crutches that lye scattered on the floor. I picked them up, and I made way towards the door. I slowly reached out, and I knew that I was releasing myself upon the world, or in many accounts releasing the world upon me. I have no real self defense mechanisms, and there is no real way to put up boundaries that no one can cross. My life is like a revolving door filled with hate, deceit, and all of those feelings that could drive a man to within an inch of his life while he holds his knife.

My hand gripped the brass knob tightly, and I flung open the door ready for once to accept what the world has in store for me knowing I can’t control my own destiny. I am victim of fate, and society holds the key to my life. The do not copy warning had obviously been ignored, and keys were passed out at the leisure to every person with the urge to maliciously hurt someone they don’t even know. There he stood, and I had no idea what to expect. Maybe, just maybe he was here to bludgeon me beyond belief, and teach me the lessons you can only learn in death.

“We need to talk,” he said softly, as he motions towards the elevator, “today is the day you’ll define your future. Today is the final day for you to opt out of the career you’ve chosen, or demand the respect you deserve. Today is your destiny, and you must decide which path to take. The road forks today, and it’s your choice to travel the road alone or alongside someone who is willing to give it all to see you succeed. Alas, you’ll see the world that has been created just for you, and if you’re willing you’ll aspire and achieve great things.”

That was almost a month ago today. I’ve chosen the path I want to walk, and I refuse to walk alone. Now you have to ask yourself how do you walk? Which road have you opted to take? Time will tell the tale of the misspent youth who traveled unguided down the path of no return. There are no returns to go cards, and there are no miss your turns. There comes a point where a man has to be prepared to play for keeps. In this world there is only one thing worse than a caged animal, and that is a man clawing to retain his existence.