01-28-2021, 09:34 PM
02-02-2021, 01:27 PM
Just posting this publicly, but have already messaged Adam to let him know I won't be posting this week. Nothing related to the ppv results (congrats again J!) just not in the mood for it today and I have nothing written. We'll actually get our match at some point Adam, I promise lol.
02-03-2021, 08:18 PM
Society had taught Xander, through propaganda of television dramas, English literature, and Wordsworth, that was there was a natural order to a man’s life. Everything seemed centered around this ancient process through one’s life, each step with tis own time-honored rites upheld on brightly colored recruitment posters. Ideal masculinity realized. Naïve dreams and whimsical fantasies nurtured the boy, all while being cradled by his ignorance of the evils out past home’s threshold and comforted by dotting parents’ love. Those dreams transformed into conqueror’s trumpets while spring blossomed into summer, a young adult falsely led to believe the world was his oyster. He fells in love with some pretty girl. She broke his heart. Repeat and rinse a few times. Trial and error. Somewhere along the line the world beats the innocence out, while the unbridled optimism had been left at the door, he was armed with the reinforced steel of manhood, allowing him to still foster ambition. But that ambition only found its purpose when he finally met his soul mate, the first he was supposed to be provide for. The one. He slipped a ring on her finger. He sowed her field. And then his purpose elevated now to that of a father, responsible for rearing the next generation, stewarding his propagation into prosperity, starting the cycle anew. If fortunate enough, he’d grow old with the light of his life, seeing his own children become parents themselves. They’d take care of him as his body and mind failed. Maybe he even found time to spoil his grandchildren, attracting his children’s tongue-and-cheek disproval. Yes, that fairytale.
Xander wondered why God never afforded him such opportunity. He never had a chance at that ideal. He never felt particularly bad or alone in that deprivation. There were many others born into broken homes. They were many others that had their life permanently interrupted by tragedy and malcontents. But he never even had parents. He was born into his abusive uncle’s tyranny and was exposed to the unimaginable evils. He never knew innocence. By the time that scrawny boy, robbed of a childhood, had been liberated, his hard grandfather adopted a dog raised in the wild. His grandfather knew how to break dogs. He knew Xander only understood the brute hierarchy of the jungle. All lesser options failed. Xander’s grandfather fell onto violence and discipline to instill order in Xander’s turbulent soul. His generation didn’t believe in chooks with their therapy sessions and medications.
Ostracized by his peers, young Xander had a hard time socializing. His peers knew something was definitely off with him. At the time, he hated each and everyone for his isolation, their stares and the insults they muttered under their breathes. Wised by time, he looked back now, knowing very well there wasn’t a common language that they shared. Communication was impossible. The closest he got to discourse was when he shared punches with his classmates. Some daring lasses had courted Xander from time to time, perhaps to indulge in a budding maternal instinct or maybe they were tempted by the provocation of an open flame. Either way, he burned them all. He shut down completely when they leaned in with closed eyes and expectant lips. To their dismay, he never answered their call. In fact, he didn’t know what they expected. If that wasn’t enough to weird them out, any transgression, any friction in their puppy love were meant with Xander’s rage. Today, he found himself grateful that every girlfriend had abandoned him so quickly, sparing them of the abuse that awaited them, especially if given the same godlike powers that some girls give to their first boyfriends. He would have been a cruel god.
Not until his late teens did Xander find himself in an adult relationship with a woman. If you would call it a romance, he didn’t know. Broken souls gravitate towards each other, black holes incarnate, gathering together on a fucked-up island of misfit toys. Kelly Lynn had been a valet that he encountered in the locker room as he found himself at the start of his wrestling career. Her boyfriend shared the several of the same independents. She flirted with everyone, including Xander. But Xander thought himself special, for rarely he received such attention. Or maybe he had, but now he only noticed the attention. Of course, the jealous boyfriend didn’t appreciate Kelly’s behavior. He took issue when Xander reciprocated with attention, albeit awkward. What started as a locker room shuffled, turned into Xander’s real first feud in the sport, spanning multiple rings, all over the Eastern Coast. That culminated into a winner-takes-all brawl, Kelly being offered up as the ultimate prize. Any normal person would have found a problem with Kelly’s wiliness to be a treasure to be won, someone’s conquest. Maybe even become disturbed by the apparent rapture Kelly existed in while two men struggled over her. For Kelly lacked self-worth and this war filled her perceived worth. Obviously, Xander dethroned the boyfriend and took Kelly home.
That was when Xander lost his virginity. She didn’t even wait for Xander to unlock their cheap motel room’s door before shoving him against the hallway wall. Xander remembered peeling wallpaper, stained with mildew. She slid her bright pink thong from underneath her black leather miniskirt, unzipped his fly, and hopped right on. They were two animals in nature. He had shown her the worthiness of his genes, the triumphant buck in his duel with antlers, the rhinoceros beetle with his magnificent horn. The sex felt great. She knew what she was doing. He didn’t have suffer through the awkwardness and disappointment of an inexperience partner. And she didn’t seem to care that he only knew enough to blindly thrust into her.
They shared a moment of clarity, coming to a halt, gasping for precious air before exchanging a look. They knew they better take their act inside the room or face some public indecency charges. In youthful folly, Xander opted not to free himself of her and go for the key; instead, he threw his back into the door. His second attempt at barging broke the door in such a fashion that one could suggest cookie monster had mistaken it for a snack, the area of locked knob staying attached to the frame. Xander spun with the grace of a ballerina, carrying her in his arms with ease. He only lost balance when he decided to mule kick the door shut. He doubted the door closed all the way, but he didn’t care. He slammed her down against the cheap mattress, tired springs pushed back. Now on top, he continued to ravage her in desperate fury, the bed squeaking as a crying mouse. He drank his essence like a man dying of thirst in the middle of the desert, finally finding an oasis to provide salvation. As his massive frame bombarded her smaller body, he drunk power from the Holy Grail.
The effort didn’t last long. He collapsed aside her as the wave of post-copulatory struck hard and unexpected. Xander expected Kelly to leave immediately, having her share, but instead she laid his head across the breast exposed in their fanatic mating. Her soft flesh warmed his squished cheek, her body still fever pitch temperature. She patted the back of his skull. Her clothes reeked of weed smoke, but he didn’t care. For the first time found a connection with another person, other than with violence.
“I needed that,” Kelly stated, catching her breathe. Had he actually pleased her? He never would know the true answer.
He managed to answer, “I think we both did.”
At the time, he might have confused this feeling for love. But never loved Kelly, but only what she provided him. Sex, brief reprieves from his crazy life and crazier mind, a sense of belonging, though only temporary. But with her also came hatred and insecurity that stroked his undisciplined, uncontrollable rage. In many ways, this sick romance skewed his world view. He kept with wrestling, hoping to find and claim more women after her. He saw Kelly as simply a source of pleasure that the world owed him. He never respected her. Never saw her as her own person; therefore, he never could truly love her. And at the time, he never truly loved wrestling. Only later had it become a necessary outlet.
Frequent arguments were stables of their toxic relationship. In the moment, one couldn’t see the relationship as ill-fated. In fact, the incredible makeup sex invited the arguments. Those bouts of animalistic, punishing sex became blissful exceptions to the otherwise dominating monotony of self-doubt and insecurity. Were all relationships like this? Xander had no other romances for comparison., Why was she always so cold and distant when he behaved himself? What led her to flirt with other men, flaunting her sexuality without a care, especially when she knew Xander was near? She provoked his anger. She wanted his anger. She enjoyed the abuse. But why? Kelly’s background had remained a mystery, refusing to talk about her life before living a vagabond existence. He figured she had a fucked-up childhood like him. Looking back, he now understood she had been trapped in a perpetual search for certain wholeness, only feeling the emptiness within with counterfeit feeling. She wanted to feel alive, or at least feel something, and found that pain and drugs were a reliable surrogate.
Maybe Xander should had said something he noticed the scars on her wrist. Maybe he should have intervened when he walked in on her with her crack pipe. But he didn’t care. He didn’t want to risk that tiny sliver of joy, fleeting and momentary as it was, he clung onto that marred paradise at all costs. It what kept him going. She was his drug.
But all things must come to an end. Everyone has to say goodbye in the end.
Xander returned one evening, another roadside motel with a bedbug problem. She sucked a fat roach in the corner of the room to his annoyance. She looked out the window at the dark, rainy world on the other side. Her blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders. She had formed the basis of his attraction towards blondes, particularly those named ‘Calli’. He left her that morning, she had been sick and wasn’t in shape to be his valet. He figured she had too much to drink the night before or had a bad effect from some drug she consumed. He stopped paying attention to her habits, even though she consumed on his dime. Immediately, he knew something off. She held herself, arms crossed, pressed tightly against her bust. Unlike Calli, she had curves, built like Pamela Anderson in her prime. But he didn’t think to ask her about what bothered her. After another night wrestling, he wanted nothing but to sleep. There hadn’t been a break, neither to the turbulence of their relationship nor to the grind that was wrestling in the independents.
Unfortunately, she wanted to talk. She whispered, confirming to him that she wasn’t right as she never spoke softly. “We have a problem.”
Now, he had to ask, “What’s that?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Oh yeah?” The announcement didn’t register right. Once her statement had been processed, his first paranoid thought was to ask if it was his. Of course, it was his. They were rarely apart. Yet the concept seemed so alien, so alien that he could be a father. He never stopped to think that would be possible for him.
“Question. How much was tonight’s purse?”
“Peanuts. The usual fucking peanuts,” Xander answered, suddenly feelings exposed, ashamed at the meager wage. Scared even. He barely had enough money to feed them, to put them up in roach motels. They didn’t have enough money to feed another mouth. They broke even with the fast-food meals and gas money for that struggling station wagon out front. He even had to cut down on the protein supplements, watching his incredible physique house some flab. “Let’s think about this first. This is a big commitment. Life-fucking-altering.”
“What is there to think about? I don’t know how we’ll pull it, but tomorrow, we’ll go onto Los Angeles as planed. There bound to be a clinic. Fuck, we’ll use false identities if we have,” Kelly spoke, detached. If logic bore a tune, the somber baritone voice she used in this conversation would be it. Calculating, computing, Kelly thought this through long before he returned home that evening.
“Clinic? We should really talk about this. I don’t think we’re in a good place. Fuck, I don’t know if I’m ready to be a parent, how about you?” Xander stopped himself for continuing. Was this shame he felt? For the first time, he encountered that nasty albatross called guilt. He had never truly regrated anything up to that point, but on that evening, he drowned in guilt. A real man would have stepped up to the plate, no questions asked, take fully responsibility. But he never prepared himself for this outcome. He never wanted kids. He never toyed with the prospect of fatherhood. All he knew, he didn’t want to be like his parents, missing action, abandoning their child. He didn’t trust himself to be better. He didn’t want to continue the cycle.
“I completely agree. That’s why we need to find a clinic. I don’t want this thing in me any longer than I have to. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Some guys get weirded and suddenly sentimental when they found out I’m pregnant.”
“So, an abortion?”
“What other option is there? We’re not parents, Xander. Fuck, the baby’s never going to survive to term, With the way I’m going, I might not either,” Kelly said. Her honest comment stung like a sucker punch. He roared inside, wanting to argue even though he agreed on every point. They were no parents. Relieved she had agreed to an abortion, instead of wanting the folly of birthing the child and putting its up to adoption. He thought the world a better place with another orphan on its hand, another child who might suffer through the same cursed existence he had, abused by his supposed guardians. Besides, she would have to surrender her drug use, and he knew she was an addict. She didn’t want to stop.
“Alright then. We’ll drive up first thing in the morning.”
“Good,” Kelly commented. For a moment, Xander considered walking over to her, comfort her with physical touch. But he recoiled from the thought. Instead, he sank back towards the bathroom at the front of the room, leaving her to continue looking out at that miserable evening. He wanted nothing to do with her. He wanted to be left alone, so he left to shower.
The next morning, they drove into downtown LA. They stopped a greasy dinner for a greasier breakfast, bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausage. There she flipped through a yellow book, looking for clinics. He remembered the uneasy silence between them during their journey. He pulled into the packed parking lot, handing Kelly a wad of cash, all that he had left minus a twenty to fill the tank so they could get to the next show that night.
“I’ll be here. Waiting,” Xander said. She nodded, pocketing the money into her purse. Xander watched her, the farther she got from the car, the quicker her pace became. A sense of urgency overcame here, and he remembered becoming even more uneasy. He watched the clock tick red minutes on the car radio console. Painful minutes turned into torturous hours. Cars came and went, people flock in and out, finally Xander reached the end of his patience.
When he arrived in the clinic’s waiting room, the receptionist stood up, concerned at the emergence of a tall man. He scared her. Maybe he possessed a miserable grimace on his ugly mug. His height sometimes intimidated people, maybe those with past trauma. But the receptionist hurried to a back room. She returned with a few nurses, all chunky women, and a greying doctor with a clipboard. Xander didn’t know why he caused such a commotion, but he did. Do people rob clinics?
“Hey, look, I am only here to check on my girlfriend.”
“She did mention you were a big guy,” one of the nurses said. She basically spat out disgust towards him. The other nurse shook her head in disappointment. They judged him. He sensed their disdain for him.
What was happening?
“Sir, if you’re looking for Kelly. She’s not here. She went out the back a few hours ago,” the receptionist stunned Xander. Xander took a step back, writhing in confusion, delaying the inevitable sharp stab and gut-wrenching twist of the blade. Kelly bailed. So many questions were crossing his head at that moment: Was she pregnant? What happened if she was? Or was this some elaborate ploy to get away from him? Xander wanted answers. No, he needed answers. He slammed his fists onto the counter before the reception’s window. He leant over, readying to thrust hand inside.
“Where is she? What happened to the baby?”
“She’s gone, sir. We can’t release patient information,” the receptionist answered, stepping back from the window.
“Let her go, dude. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. She ran away, to get away from your bitch ass,” the loudmouth nurse added. Xander bared his teeth.
“We’ll--- we’ll care police if you don’t leave quietly. Don’t think we won’t!” The doctor spoke up, his chin raised, his tongue pushed against his side of his cheek. He wanted to be a hero. Xander tilted his head up, eying the doctor, considering dying that asshole’s white lab coat red with his blood. Instead, he released a roar, backpedaling. Looking back, Xander always remained surprised by his restraint. Nine out of ten times, his rage would have won out; he’d make a scene in the abortion, maybe cracked a few skulls, adding another listing to his arrest record.
Instead, the events had shocked him, leaving him weak in the knees. He retreated the rental car in a hurry, but he didn’t drive off. No, he remained seated in the driver’s seat. He lost sense of time. His mind trying to make sense, to derive some understanding of Kelly’s sudden departure. At some point, he slammed his fists onto the steering wheel, blaring the horn. Maybe he did that several times.
But then he stopped, turned the key in the ignition, and do what he always did, go on his merry way to the next show, looking to hurt someone bad.
Xander wondered why God never afforded him such opportunity. He never had a chance at that ideal. He never felt particularly bad or alone in that deprivation. There were many others born into broken homes. They were many others that had their life permanently interrupted by tragedy and malcontents. But he never even had parents. He was born into his abusive uncle’s tyranny and was exposed to the unimaginable evils. He never knew innocence. By the time that scrawny boy, robbed of a childhood, had been liberated, his hard grandfather adopted a dog raised in the wild. His grandfather knew how to break dogs. He knew Xander only understood the brute hierarchy of the jungle. All lesser options failed. Xander’s grandfather fell onto violence and discipline to instill order in Xander’s turbulent soul. His generation didn’t believe in chooks with their therapy sessions and medications.
Ostracized by his peers, young Xander had a hard time socializing. His peers knew something was definitely off with him. At the time, he hated each and everyone for his isolation, their stares and the insults they muttered under their breathes. Wised by time, he looked back now, knowing very well there wasn’t a common language that they shared. Communication was impossible. The closest he got to discourse was when he shared punches with his classmates. Some daring lasses had courted Xander from time to time, perhaps to indulge in a budding maternal instinct or maybe they were tempted by the provocation of an open flame. Either way, he burned them all. He shut down completely when they leaned in with closed eyes and expectant lips. To their dismay, he never answered their call. In fact, he didn’t know what they expected. If that wasn’t enough to weird them out, any transgression, any friction in their puppy love were meant with Xander’s rage. Today, he found himself grateful that every girlfriend had abandoned him so quickly, sparing them of the abuse that awaited them, especially if given the same godlike powers that some girls give to their first boyfriends. He would have been a cruel god.
Not until his late teens did Xander find himself in an adult relationship with a woman. If you would call it a romance, he didn’t know. Broken souls gravitate towards each other, black holes incarnate, gathering together on a fucked-up island of misfit toys. Kelly Lynn had been a valet that he encountered in the locker room as he found himself at the start of his wrestling career. Her boyfriend shared the several of the same independents. She flirted with everyone, including Xander. But Xander thought himself special, for rarely he received such attention. Or maybe he had, but now he only noticed the attention. Of course, the jealous boyfriend didn’t appreciate Kelly’s behavior. He took issue when Xander reciprocated with attention, albeit awkward. What started as a locker room shuffled, turned into Xander’s real first feud in the sport, spanning multiple rings, all over the Eastern Coast. That culminated into a winner-takes-all brawl, Kelly being offered up as the ultimate prize. Any normal person would have found a problem with Kelly’s wiliness to be a treasure to be won, someone’s conquest. Maybe even become disturbed by the apparent rapture Kelly existed in while two men struggled over her. For Kelly lacked self-worth and this war filled her perceived worth. Obviously, Xander dethroned the boyfriend and took Kelly home.
That was when Xander lost his virginity. She didn’t even wait for Xander to unlock their cheap motel room’s door before shoving him against the hallway wall. Xander remembered peeling wallpaper, stained with mildew. She slid her bright pink thong from underneath her black leather miniskirt, unzipped his fly, and hopped right on. They were two animals in nature. He had shown her the worthiness of his genes, the triumphant buck in his duel with antlers, the rhinoceros beetle with his magnificent horn. The sex felt great. She knew what she was doing. He didn’t have suffer through the awkwardness and disappointment of an inexperience partner. And she didn’t seem to care that he only knew enough to blindly thrust into her.
They shared a moment of clarity, coming to a halt, gasping for precious air before exchanging a look. They knew they better take their act inside the room or face some public indecency charges. In youthful folly, Xander opted not to free himself of her and go for the key; instead, he threw his back into the door. His second attempt at barging broke the door in such a fashion that one could suggest cookie monster had mistaken it for a snack, the area of locked knob staying attached to the frame. Xander spun with the grace of a ballerina, carrying her in his arms with ease. He only lost balance when he decided to mule kick the door shut. He doubted the door closed all the way, but he didn’t care. He slammed her down against the cheap mattress, tired springs pushed back. Now on top, he continued to ravage her in desperate fury, the bed squeaking as a crying mouse. He drank his essence like a man dying of thirst in the middle of the desert, finally finding an oasis to provide salvation. As his massive frame bombarded her smaller body, he drunk power from the Holy Grail.
The effort didn’t last long. He collapsed aside her as the wave of post-copulatory struck hard and unexpected. Xander expected Kelly to leave immediately, having her share, but instead she laid his head across the breast exposed in their fanatic mating. Her soft flesh warmed his squished cheek, her body still fever pitch temperature. She patted the back of his skull. Her clothes reeked of weed smoke, but he didn’t care. For the first time found a connection with another person, other than with violence.
“I needed that,” Kelly stated, catching her breathe. Had he actually pleased her? He never would know the true answer.
He managed to answer, “I think we both did.”
At the time, he might have confused this feeling for love. But never loved Kelly, but only what she provided him. Sex, brief reprieves from his crazy life and crazier mind, a sense of belonging, though only temporary. But with her also came hatred and insecurity that stroked his undisciplined, uncontrollable rage. In many ways, this sick romance skewed his world view. He kept with wrestling, hoping to find and claim more women after her. He saw Kelly as simply a source of pleasure that the world owed him. He never respected her. Never saw her as her own person; therefore, he never could truly love her. And at the time, he never truly loved wrestling. Only later had it become a necessary outlet.
Frequent arguments were stables of their toxic relationship. In the moment, one couldn’t see the relationship as ill-fated. In fact, the incredible makeup sex invited the arguments. Those bouts of animalistic, punishing sex became blissful exceptions to the otherwise dominating monotony of self-doubt and insecurity. Were all relationships like this? Xander had no other romances for comparison., Why was she always so cold and distant when he behaved himself? What led her to flirt with other men, flaunting her sexuality without a care, especially when she knew Xander was near? She provoked his anger. She wanted his anger. She enjoyed the abuse. But why? Kelly’s background had remained a mystery, refusing to talk about her life before living a vagabond existence. He figured she had a fucked-up childhood like him. Looking back, he now understood she had been trapped in a perpetual search for certain wholeness, only feeling the emptiness within with counterfeit feeling. She wanted to feel alive, or at least feel something, and found that pain and drugs were a reliable surrogate.
Maybe Xander should had said something he noticed the scars on her wrist. Maybe he should have intervened when he walked in on her with her crack pipe. But he didn’t care. He didn’t want to risk that tiny sliver of joy, fleeting and momentary as it was, he clung onto that marred paradise at all costs. It what kept him going. She was his drug.
But all things must come to an end. Everyone has to say goodbye in the end.
Xander returned one evening, another roadside motel with a bedbug problem. She sucked a fat roach in the corner of the room to his annoyance. She looked out the window at the dark, rainy world on the other side. Her blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders. She had formed the basis of his attraction towards blondes, particularly those named ‘Calli’. He left her that morning, she had been sick and wasn’t in shape to be his valet. He figured she had too much to drink the night before or had a bad effect from some drug she consumed. He stopped paying attention to her habits, even though she consumed on his dime. Immediately, he knew something off. She held herself, arms crossed, pressed tightly against her bust. Unlike Calli, she had curves, built like Pamela Anderson in her prime. But he didn’t think to ask her about what bothered her. After another night wrestling, he wanted nothing but to sleep. There hadn’t been a break, neither to the turbulence of their relationship nor to the grind that was wrestling in the independents.
Unfortunately, she wanted to talk. She whispered, confirming to him that she wasn’t right as she never spoke softly. “We have a problem.”
Now, he had to ask, “What’s that?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Oh yeah?” The announcement didn’t register right. Once her statement had been processed, his first paranoid thought was to ask if it was his. Of course, it was his. They were rarely apart. Yet the concept seemed so alien, so alien that he could be a father. He never stopped to think that would be possible for him.
“Question. How much was tonight’s purse?”
“Peanuts. The usual fucking peanuts,” Xander answered, suddenly feelings exposed, ashamed at the meager wage. Scared even. He barely had enough money to feed them, to put them up in roach motels. They didn’t have enough money to feed another mouth. They broke even with the fast-food meals and gas money for that struggling station wagon out front. He even had to cut down on the protein supplements, watching his incredible physique house some flab. “Let’s think about this first. This is a big commitment. Life-fucking-altering.”
“What is there to think about? I don’t know how we’ll pull it, but tomorrow, we’ll go onto Los Angeles as planed. There bound to be a clinic. Fuck, we’ll use false identities if we have,” Kelly spoke, detached. If logic bore a tune, the somber baritone voice she used in this conversation would be it. Calculating, computing, Kelly thought this through long before he returned home that evening.
“Clinic? We should really talk about this. I don’t think we’re in a good place. Fuck, I don’t know if I’m ready to be a parent, how about you?” Xander stopped himself for continuing. Was this shame he felt? For the first time, he encountered that nasty albatross called guilt. He had never truly regrated anything up to that point, but on that evening, he drowned in guilt. A real man would have stepped up to the plate, no questions asked, take fully responsibility. But he never prepared himself for this outcome. He never wanted kids. He never toyed with the prospect of fatherhood. All he knew, he didn’t want to be like his parents, missing action, abandoning their child. He didn’t trust himself to be better. He didn’t want to continue the cycle.
“I completely agree. That’s why we need to find a clinic. I don’t want this thing in me any longer than I have to. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Some guys get weirded and suddenly sentimental when they found out I’m pregnant.”
“So, an abortion?”
“What other option is there? We’re not parents, Xander. Fuck, the baby’s never going to survive to term, With the way I’m going, I might not either,” Kelly said. Her honest comment stung like a sucker punch. He roared inside, wanting to argue even though he agreed on every point. They were no parents. Relieved she had agreed to an abortion, instead of wanting the folly of birthing the child and putting its up to adoption. He thought the world a better place with another orphan on its hand, another child who might suffer through the same cursed existence he had, abused by his supposed guardians. Besides, she would have to surrender her drug use, and he knew she was an addict. She didn’t want to stop.
“Alright then. We’ll drive up first thing in the morning.”
“Good,” Kelly commented. For a moment, Xander considered walking over to her, comfort her with physical touch. But he recoiled from the thought. Instead, he sank back towards the bathroom at the front of the room, leaving her to continue looking out at that miserable evening. He wanted nothing to do with her. He wanted to be left alone, so he left to shower.
The next morning, they drove into downtown LA. They stopped a greasy dinner for a greasier breakfast, bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausage. There she flipped through a yellow book, looking for clinics. He remembered the uneasy silence between them during their journey. He pulled into the packed parking lot, handing Kelly a wad of cash, all that he had left minus a twenty to fill the tank so they could get to the next show that night.
“I’ll be here. Waiting,” Xander said. She nodded, pocketing the money into her purse. Xander watched her, the farther she got from the car, the quicker her pace became. A sense of urgency overcame here, and he remembered becoming even more uneasy. He watched the clock tick red minutes on the car radio console. Painful minutes turned into torturous hours. Cars came and went, people flock in and out, finally Xander reached the end of his patience.
When he arrived in the clinic’s waiting room, the receptionist stood up, concerned at the emergence of a tall man. He scared her. Maybe he possessed a miserable grimace on his ugly mug. His height sometimes intimidated people, maybe those with past trauma. But the receptionist hurried to a back room. She returned with a few nurses, all chunky women, and a greying doctor with a clipboard. Xander didn’t know why he caused such a commotion, but he did. Do people rob clinics?
“Hey, look, I am only here to check on my girlfriend.”
“She did mention you were a big guy,” one of the nurses said. She basically spat out disgust towards him. The other nurse shook her head in disappointment. They judged him. He sensed their disdain for him.
What was happening?
“Sir, if you’re looking for Kelly. She’s not here. She went out the back a few hours ago,” the receptionist stunned Xander. Xander took a step back, writhing in confusion, delaying the inevitable sharp stab and gut-wrenching twist of the blade. Kelly bailed. So many questions were crossing his head at that moment: Was she pregnant? What happened if she was? Or was this some elaborate ploy to get away from him? Xander wanted answers. No, he needed answers. He slammed his fists onto the counter before the reception’s window. He leant over, readying to thrust hand inside.
“Where is she? What happened to the baby?”
“She’s gone, sir. We can’t release patient information,” the receptionist answered, stepping back from the window.
“Let her go, dude. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. She ran away, to get away from your bitch ass,” the loudmouth nurse added. Xander bared his teeth.
“We’ll--- we’ll care police if you don’t leave quietly. Don’t think we won’t!” The doctor spoke up, his chin raised, his tongue pushed against his side of his cheek. He wanted to be a hero. Xander tilted his head up, eying the doctor, considering dying that asshole’s white lab coat red with his blood. Instead, he released a roar, backpedaling. Looking back, Xander always remained surprised by his restraint. Nine out of ten times, his rage would have won out; he’d make a scene in the abortion, maybe cracked a few skulls, adding another listing to his arrest record.
Instead, the events had shocked him, leaving him weak in the knees. He retreated the rental car in a hurry, but he didn’t drive off. No, he remained seated in the driver’s seat. He lost sense of time. His mind trying to make sense, to derive some understanding of Kelly’s sudden departure. At some point, he slammed his fists onto the steering wheel, blaring the horn. Maybe he did that several times.
But then he stopped, turned the key in the ignition, and do what he always did, go on his merry way to the next show, looking to hurt someone bad.