“Candi, I’m breaking up with you.”
This will be the last time I write.
Things are different now. These pages are different. My life is different. Everything is different.
But when I realized that I was going to die, I made a promise to see every aspect of my life through to the bitter end. That includes my writings. It’s not for any sort of memoir, or for the Positive State, or Holly Adams, or my family, or anything else.
It’s for me. This is so I can keep my promise. No page left unturned, I guess.
My baby is not mine. Some days ago, Candi gave birth. More specifically, she gave birth to a black baby boy. Neither of us are black, so beyond it being an alien baby sent down by Gleebnorb, it seemed quite clear what had happened. It also explained why she gave birth early.
See, just before I met Candi and immediately proposed to her, she was in an on-and-off relationship with a man named DeShaun. She’d actually mentioned him on our first date. He was even at our wedding. Given everything that’s happened, you probably don’t need more than one attempt to guess DeShaun’s race.
Candi is in denial. She swears that the baby just came out this color because of the scorching tan she’d received on our honeymoon. This is physically impossible, as is me being the boy’s father.
Regardless, if she needs it, I’ll be there for the two of them. It’s the right thing to do, I suppose. Just like ending things was the right thing to do.
Candi was sitting in a lounge chair with the baby in her arms. It was a beautiful picture, as long as you ignored me dumping her. She looked up at me from her chair, still rocking the boy. My statement didn’t even seem to register. “Like, what?”
“I’m breaking up with you,” I repeated. Her face stayed blank. “We’re getting a divorce. Uh…sorry.”
“Umm…like…what?”
“I don’t know how I can be any more clear.”
We were at her place. The old folks home or whatever—I don’t know, it’s confusing. Either way, I figured it was better to do the deed there rather than at the compound or the island, just stranding her and her broken heart on my own turf.
This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. I’d been thinking about it ever since I held the boy. There was a lot of thought put into this. I knew what I had to do. This whole thing was a sign from God.
This whole marriage was a sham. I did it because I was scared and lonely and wanted something easy. The most real thing about it all was that Candi may have legitimately loved me, but that was all the more reason to be honest and stop fucking her around. I didn’t want to go to the grave with her thinking all of this was real. She didn’t deserve that.
It was going harder than I expected, though.
“I don’t, like…understand?” she said after an awkward silence. “What about, um, like, me and Cidnay 2?”
Oh, right. The baby’s name. Cidnay 2. No, not like Cid Turner II, or Cid Turner, Jr. or anything. This child’s name was Cidnay 2. No last name. According to Candi, it was chic, which is the same reason I heard from Holly when I was starting to be marketed as Cidnay rather than Cid Turner.
This wasn’t my baby, but it was now named after me. I was dumping my wife as she carried a child named after me. Of course, it wasn’t actually my kid, but…still. The optics, they aren’t great.
“Listen, I looked it up,” I said. “Apparently, you can change your child’s name at any point during the first year of its life. I implore you: change this boy’s name. I’ll support you both as much as I can during and even after this process, but that’s not my son.”
Candi huffed and rolled her eyes. “Why do you keep saying that?!”
“Babies don’t come out tan,” I explained. “That baby’s black. There’s nothing wrong with that, but he’s not mine. Please, I’m begging you, do not curse that child with my name. Don’t give him that burden.”
“Okay, like, I’m a little, like, confused,” she said, which was par for the course. Usually it was a cutesy thing. This time, though, it just made me feel like shit. This would be hard to process for anyone. For poor Candi, I was probably destroying her brain. Possibly her life. Jesus. “Is this, like, a, like, publicity stunt thing? Or…something, like, for the, like, cameras?”
I looked behind me to see the crew filming all of this.
To be honest, I’d forgotten they were even there. That’s how long I’d been involved as a supporting character in this stupid Housewives shit. It was to the point where I didn’t even register their presence when having an intimate conversation that should very much be between two people in a private room. Instead, me dumping my wife with our child not even a couple of weeks removed from the womb was going to be plastered all over television. I’m going to look like a real winner, aren’t I?
“Candi,” I said as gently as I could as I leaned down closer to the chair to get to her level. I should have just done this over the phone, or maybe shot her a text. It was brutal. “This is me being the most honest I’ve ever been with you.”
“Like, what?”
“You’re a good woman. Much too good for me. But the truth is, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with you.” For the first time, the message seemed to be getting through. Her face dropped. My heart followed suit and basically fell out of my ass. “You met me at a very strange moment in my life. I was not far removed from asking my sworn enemy’s lesbian wife to have sex with me.”
“Uhm, like, sorry, can you, like, explain that one?”
“No,” I said, having to hold back laughter. It was so absurd. “I really can’t. Because it made no sense. Nothing I do makes sense, which is exactly how I ended up proposing to you. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. The only time I know what I’m doing is when my life’s in danger. And guess what? I’m dying.”
She gasped. Her shock overtook her sadness. “Oh, my, like, God! Like, what do you, like, mean?!”
“Well, my injury I told you about—that’s gotten worse. I’m probably going to die inside the ring. If not, though, then I’m also dealing with this apocalypse thing where—” I stopped and looked back at the cameras. Probably best they didn’t hear this one. “Listen, the point is: I’m dying.”
“And that’s, like, why you’re, like, leaving me?”
“Nope,” I flatly remarked. “I’m leaving you because my impending death has opened my eyes. I’ve dragged you this far and that’s unbelievably unfair. I want you to be free, Candi. You and your son. On the off chance that I somehow survive all of this, I’ll support you and the baby in any way that I can because I owe that to you, but you should definitely talk with the father. Or not. Hell, do whatever you want! You’re a free woman now! Up top!”
I offered a high-five. She did not reciprocate. Maybe being buddy-buddy while requesting a divorce wasn’t the way to go. I don’t know. I was trying my best.
The shock on her face went. The sadness didn’t come back, however. Instead, for the first time since I’d met her (which, granted, we’ve still known each other for less than a year), she glared at me. I don’t just mean a little pissy glare. I mean, she seriously looked pissed, but not, like, angry-screaming-pissed. More like I’m-going-to-fucking-kill-you-in-your-sleep pissed. You know, that quiet menace deal.
“Holly was, like, right about, like, you,” she quietly hissed.
Realizing my high-five was not appreciated, I slowly lowered my hand and muttered, “Uh, what do you mean?”
“I, like, tried to, like, defend you,” she went on, every word laced with a pure hatred that I didn’t know existed inside such a wonderful soul, “but she was, like, right. You’ve changed…”
It was actually unsettling. Like, even the “likes” weren’t lessening the impact these words had on me. It was like she was possessed. Possessed by a demon…with a fluency disorder. The horror. The absolute fucking horror.
“Candi, I know this might seem harsh, but—”
“Leave,” she said, still with a quiet anger. She turned her head away from me. “Leave me and, like, Cidnay 2 alone. If you don’t, like, die, then you will hear from, like, my, like, lawyer. But if you, like, die…then, like…whatever.”
The woman had just whatever’d my impending doom. There is no colder move. In a way, I was glad. I deserved a knife to the heart. It was good to see her not only understand what was happening, but reacting like any normal woman should. It made me think she was going to move on just fine. My only fear was that I may have created a monster.
“Right…well… I’m just gonna…go,” I said as I stood back up. I waved at Cidnay 2. “Bye-bye, uh…Cidnay 2.” I slowly made my way through the Housewives camera crew. “Well, this’ll probably be the last time I see you guys, so…nice knowing you, I guess.” They didn’t respond. I don’t know why I thought they would. It’s their job not to. I shamefully left the room before turning right back and sticking my head around the corner. “Actually, wait, I’ll probably see you guys Sunday. Because, you know…Holly or whatever. Okay. Sorry. Bye.” Again, I left the room, but again, I poked my head back out. “Sorry again, Candi.” Like the camera crew, she did not respond. That cold shoulder hurt a bit more considering it was not in her job description to ignore me. “Okay. Right. Sorry. Bye.” Finally, after making a fucking fool of myself, I left, ready to move with the rest of my short life.
I was just a handful of days away from Rise to Greatness, but the closer we got to it, the more I wondered if I’d even be there for it.
Things were just getting worse. With every passing day, I’d feel more and more like shit. I think dumping Candi had a lot to do with that, but I’d also not spoken to Elizabeth since well before I may have accidentally convinced her dumbass Australian fiancé David to leave her and my daughter Sydney in the dust. She had blown up my phone, begging for answers, but I just continued to ignore her.
It was the same deal as Candi: I wasn’t really interested in spending the rest of my days lying to people or making them miserable. I tried my best to make things right with Liz and Syd by telling David to man the fuck up and take care of them. The fact that it triggered an epiphany in him sucked, but my part was done. All I had left to do was die, really.
Then there was the Holly business. She had this stupid thing on Judge Mathis a while back, and then in SCW, I had basically turned my back on her.
As much as I felt I was in the right to stand up to her when it came to Datura, it just felt wrong. Not in the same way I fucked up with Asher—I knew I was in the wrong there and I fucking felt that and carried it with me every day. This was more complicated. Holly helped me through a lot, whether her intentions were pure or not. Even if they weren’t, I’d like to believe there’s some part of her that actually respects me, or maybe even cares for me. That’s what makes this hard.
The whole point of wrapping up my business before dying was so I could rest easy. Instead, it looked more like I was going to go to the grave miserable. Maybe I’ve earned that. Just look at all the shit I’ve done in my life. Hell, look at all the shit I’ve done in the last month.
I was back on the island. It felt a lot more lonely without Cookie. Still, if she was hanging out with her dad, her weird robot, and Jordan, then that’s healthier than being with me. I even heard Jordan was getting married. Good for her. Maybe she didn’t need me after all. Maybe nobody needs me.
Still, as much as I think that, I did have my duties at the Positive State, however long that was to last. And when Lucas Warner—mine and Elijah’s right-hand man throughout this shitshow—walked into my tent, I could tell by his demeanor that I was needed.
“Need a hand,” he grumbled from the doorway—or whatever the hell you call the entryway to one of these things—of my tent. “Someone’s gone outta line.”
“Out of line?”
“C’mon.”
I got up and followed him out of the tent. He led the way through the forest. Looking around, it wouldn’t be the worst place to die. I wasn’t entirely sure how this whole apocalypse thing was going to go—like, do we all meet up somewhere and just wait for the planet to be cleansed by Gleebnorb? I don’t know. If so, though, hopefully it’s here. It’s pretty. We can die with a view.
“What’s up?” I asked as we continued to walk.
“Now that we’re getting closer to the finish line, some folk are getting cold feet,” Lucas explained. “Did you hear Oliver left?”
“Oliver left?”
“Among others.”
Oliver was the very first person I recruited for the Positive State. Got him in an NA meeting. Classic place to prey on the vulnerable.
Anyway, him leaving didn’t really surprise me, I guess. Last time I saw him—the night I learned about humanity being eradicated or whatever—he had seemed disillusioned with the whole Positive State stuff. I’ve said it before, but he really does remind me of myself, which is why I snatched him up in the first place. So, I understand why he stopped buying the bullshit. It’s because I did, too. He could probably sense it, then started hearing crap about the apocalypse, and he just bounced. Fair enough. Get out while you can. I was actually happy for him.
“Cold feet,” I echoed. I looked at Lucas, who just stared straight ahead as he marched. “What about you? How are you feeling about all of this?” He didn’t respond. Not surprising. “You know, I talked to your brother.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said flatly.
I hadn’t written about it, but Lucas let me know that his brother Clyde had been parading around SCW under my old mask. I’d been trying to look out for him ever since finding that out—again, wrapping up my affairs. The kid deserved it. He’d gotten me through a lot.
Now, though, I was wondering what Lucas thought about all of this world ending shit. Beyond Clyde, he had a family. They weren’t in the Positive State. Do they just all die and he moves on without them in the new world? I don’t know. Lucas doesn’t seem that cold, but I won’t act like I really know him, and I never really expected him to open up about it either.
So, we just kept walking in silence until we got to the shore of the island where this person who was “outta line” was hanging around.
Out of line was probably a good way to describe it. Arriving on the scene, I saw Elijah defensively holding his hands up while a woman around my age wielded a knife, looking absolutely crazed. For someone plagued by visions of death, this wasn’t a great sign.
“I want to leave,” she said through scattered breaths. She took a step back, her feet hitting water. Not only was Elijah in front of her, but a small crowd had formed around her. She was trapped. Nowhere to go, unless she wanted to try swimming back. “I just…want to leave.”
“Who the fuck is that?” I whispered to Lucas as we got closer to the situation.
“That’s Mary,” he said. “Been here for about a year.”
“Oh, right, of course, I knew that,” I lied. Honestly, I didn’t know 99% of these people. I was a horrible savior. “I see she’s armed. Excellent.”
“What I don’t get about these people is that we all knew this was coming.”
No. We didn’t. I didn’t. Again: horrible savior. “Right, totally. Stupid idiots, huh?”
“If you could sort it out, that’d be great.”
We stopped just short of the crowd and I turned to Lucas. “What the fuck am I supposed to do that Elijah can’t?”
“You’re carrying Gleebnorb,” Lucas said, which still sounds so stupid to me, even near the end. “If anyone can show her the beauty of this necessity, it’s you.” Jesus Christ, was he ever wrong. “If not, well…you’re a wrestler. Take her down.” He was right about that at least.
I sighed and made my way through the small audience, stepping up next to Elijah, who still had his hands up as if that would protect him from getting fucking stabbed.
“Cid’s here, Mary,” Elijah said. “You see? We all care for you. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“And I just want to leave,” Mary repeated, jabbing the knife in our direction. Elijah flinched. I didn’t. For some reason, I just didn’t care. “Let me leave.”
And without a care, I just cut straight through the bullshit. “Mary,” I began, “what the hell are you doing with a knife?”
“You won’t let me leave,” she whispered harshly.
“Who? Me?” She shook her head and pointed the knife at Elijah, once again causing him to flinch. “Elijah?”
“All of you!”
I turned to Elijah. “Why can’t she leave?” I asked.
He went behind me. I thought he was using me as a fucking human shield, the prick, but it turns out he was just trying to get in my ear. He put a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “We’re so close.”
“Yeah?” I whispered back. “And?”
“The more people that leave, the more likely they speak out,” he explained. I could sense the fear in his voice. Elijah hadn’t been the same man since he found out about my visions of death. “We can’t let this go wrong, Cid. If anyone tries to disrupt this, it could be the end of all of our work—my life’s work.”
“God damn it,” I quietly sighed, shaking my head. “Look, Marie—”
“Mary!” she cried out, again jabbing the knife towards us. “My name is Mary!”
“Right, sorry. Anyway, Mary, can we just…chill out? You’re on an exotic island, free of charge. This is the fucking life. Relax, woman.”
“I can’t. I can’t! You lied to us! All of you, liars!”
Over my shoulder, Elijah said, “Mary, you know that’s not true.”
“You said you’d make things better! You lied!”
“This is just a relapse,” Elijah continued, making sure to stay behind me. I think he actually was using me as a human shield. Bastard. “Think of how much progress we’ve made with your issues—the fidgeting, the worrying, the paranoia. You’ve grown so much, Mary.” I mean, she was threatening to fucking stab me, but sure. “Don’t let this little slip-up bring you back to square one.”
“You’re trying to kill us,” Mary shot back, which wasn’t totally untrue, I guess. Sometimes paranoid people are right, just like how I was about to be right about my early death when she plunged that blade right through my heart. “I won’t let you. If you don’t let me leave, I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” I asked. I was getting ready to suplex a bitch.
“I’ll…I don’t know…I don’t want to…” Her voice trailed off. Gone was that venom that was born of her paranoia. Instead, she started to cry. The anger had passed. Now, she was mourning something. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Elijah tried to chime in, saying, “Mary, you can’t—”
But I put my hand up, cutting him off. “Do what?” I asked. “Stab me?”
The knife remained pointed at me. Her hand shook harder. “You make us feel unworthy when we come in, but then turn it around and act like you love us,” she went on, “so when we’re back in the normal world—the real world—we ache for the love we felt here…but it’s not true. You’re leading us to slaughter.”
“It’s not a slaughter,” I said, acting like I knew anything about all of this horseshit. “It’s just, uh…the end of the world, I guess. And all of us special people get reincarnated…or whatever.”
“But I don’t want the world to end,” she softly cried. “As fucked up as it is, it’s the only place where we can actually get better—really better, not whatever you’re feeding us! I don’t want to leave it behind…I don’t want to leave the people behind…my mom, my dad…the people that actually care.”
The people that actually care.
The woman obviously had issues, but if there’s one thing I learned through all of this Positive State bullshit, it’s that sometimes it takes a fucking crazy person to put things into perspective. Some of the most genuine people I’d ever met were totally unhinged. Hell, the times where I’m at my worst are the times where I have the most clarity, it seemed. Being on the verge of dying had once again opened my eyes, just like it had before I decided to come back to SCW two years prior.
And with those open eyes, I saw Mary for what she truly was.
Mary was every person I ever misled. Cookie, Jordan, Oliver, Candi, Asher, Holly, Gio, Sammy, Clammy, Clyde, Elizaveta, David, Elizabeth, Sydney, all of my family—Mary was everyone. Mary was me. Mary was real.
I stepped closer. Elijah went to grab me, but fell short. I went even closer to Mary. She backed up ever so slightly, further into the water. I followed. Water washed up against my feet and the knife pointed directly into my chest. Death was touching my heart.
But then it turned away.
Mary dropped the knife. It plopped into the water. She broke down, burying her face into her hands. I stepped forward and gently grabbed her, bringing her close to me.
“You’re not paranoid,” I whispered. “You’re right about everything.”
She looked up at me and sniffled, looking perplexed. “Wh-what?”
“You’re free to go,” I said. “Go back to your family. Go, and never come back. Live your life the right way—the real way.”
I gave her a gentle shove. She stumbled out of the water, onto the shore. She made her way through the sand. Nobody stopped her.
I knelt down and grabbed the knife from the water, bringing it up to look at it. It shined in the sunlight. No longer did it look like an instrument of murder. Underneath the shining sun, it was almost pretty. It should have killed me, but it didn’t. Death was there, but it left. Maybe I wasn’t cursed. Maybe I was just like Mary. Working through my issues.
Making my way back to the sand, Elijah scurried up to me, looking concerned. “What did you tell her?” he asked, almost demanding to know. “We can’t let her leave!”
“I told her everything is bullshit.”
Elijah looked stunned. “Excuse me?”
“Elijah…I’m not a fucking alien.”
The crowd turned from Mary to watch me. They, like Elijah, didn’t know what to make of this quiet outburst. “You’re carrying—”
“No,” I interrupted. “No, no, no. Aliens aren’t real—or, fuck, maybe they are, but none of this crap is.”
“Cid…”
“And I’m sorry for that. You’re a good man. I know you are. But…this is fucking stupid.”
Everyone gasped. Even Lucas fucking Warner, ever the stoic one, gasped. Truth be told, I kind of felt like an asshole. I guess that was some of the Positive State Kool-Aid leftover in my system.
“But the visions,” Elijah attempted to explain, “they’re—”
“I’m just a nervous wreck, dude,” I interjected once again. I held up the knife. “Look at this. Death walked away. I’m okay. I’m fucked up, but I’m okay—and guess what? You’re going to be okay, too. Even though this is all horseshit, you’re going to be okay.” I turned to the crowd. “Everyone, we’re all going to be okay—”
Then, I saw them. In the distance. A storm of black, roaring down towards all of us along the shore. It was a group of Federal officials. They were armed. I shit you not, they were fucking armed.
“What the—”
A small object was lobbed from the group. It hit the sand, skidding along before sinking just short of the crowd. Smoke began flowing out—no. Not smoke. My eyes told me that it was tear gas.
“Hands up, motherfuckers!” I heard one of them call out, one of many expletive-laced demands.
Our group dispersed. Some tried to run, some just fell to the ground and covered their faces. As the officials got closer, I put my hands up. I realized I was still holding the damn knife. In an attempt not to get pumped full of bullets, I let it drop to the sand, keeping my hands up. To make things easier, I dropped to my knees.
Next to me, Elijah stood with his arms at his side. He looked to be in awe as he watched the officials closing in. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.
“Elijah. It’s fine. We didn’t do anything wrong, man. Just get down and let them take us. We’ll be okay.”
He turned to me. For the first time, his eyes held no hope whatsoever. “But did we do anything right?” he asked.
I didn’t know what to say. I just kept my hands in the air and my knees to the ground.
Before long, people started getting detained. A small group aimed their guns at Elijah and yelled at him until he lifelessly dropped to his knees with his hands up. They stormed around him and pushed him to the ground, cuffing him.
As I watched them do it to him, they did it to me. I got a knee in my spine as they cranked my arms back.
“The bearded one,” I heard one of them say over the chaos. “That’s the one. The leader.”
While getting cuffed with a knee grinding into my already damaged spine, another officer knelt down next to me. He got in my ear, growling, “Where’s the fucking book?”
I tried to look up at him, but the knee in my back didn’t help me much in that regard. “Book?”
“Don’t bullshit me. We’ll find it eventually.”
With everything going on, I didn’t really know what the fuck he was talking about. But it only took a couple of seconds for me to piece it together.
My book. The book Elijah gave to me to write my memoir. The one I’d been writing in over the last year.
For a short time, it had disappeared…the night I learned about this fake-ass apocalypse. The night before Oliver left.
It wasn’t a secret that I was writing in it. People had seen me jotting things down before. Oliver, though…with how disillusioned he’d gotten, maybe he wondered what exactly was going on behind the scenes. If he had even skimmed that book, he would have learned that everything I said was a lie. Maybe that was enough to make him leave. Maybe that was enough for him to tell someone that we were frauds. A fucking doomsday cult.
Or maybe it was someone else that left. Who knows? It didn’t matter, though. All it took was one person, whether it was the one that started it all for me or someone else.
With the book in the hands of the Feds, I can only imagine the shitstorm coming for me. There’s so much in there, and while a lot of it is innocent babbling of a broken man…there’s more.
They yanked me from the sand, setting me up straight. I looked at the havoc wreaked not just on the shore, but further into the island. I saw smoke—or maybe tear gas again—rising up from the trees. I saw more people in white robes fleeing, trying to get away from the armed men in black. Thankfully, I didn’t hear any gunshots. I guess that’s one upside to running a cult focused on mental wellness.
Looking at everything going up in flames, I felt oddly content. Truth be told, I was just glad it was all over. In its final act, the Positive State had granted me my positive state.
If I said that I never saw this coming, I’d be lying to you.
It always goes this way with me, doesn’t it? Ever since I came back two years ago, I’ve been confronting my past. Whether that be the deep past with people like Chad Evans, or the very recent past with people like Asher Hayes. No matter what, I’m always fighting against the mistakes that I’ve made.
Some might argue that it’s not my fault this time. They might say that Holly manipulated both me and Asher, propping us up and latching herself to an at-the-time hot act to eventually reap the benefits.
I mean, look what happened, right? The very first night she appeared with us, A/C Unit won the World Tag Team Championships, while I won the World Championship for the first time in almost fifteen years. Her support led to us winning awards at the End of the Year Special, but at that same show, she finally received her first real shot at the World Championship. After months of associating with me, Holly got her chance. So, yeah, some people might say that she used me to catapult herself to the top of the card.
But that’s just not true. For two reasons, that’s absolutely false.
One, I knew what I was getting into.
The moment I signed a Life Coaching by Holly contract, I knew why I did it.
I didn’t want to be forgotten.
I had spent the previous ten years rotting away in the mountains. Before that, I’d already made people think that I was a one hit wonder. Two fluke World Championship reigns, one that just happened to fluke itself for over a hundred days. But after that?
Nothin’.
Beyond a brief pop-up at the turn of the decade, all I did was slowly fade away. I went up into those mountains to die.
Fast forward to Retribution where the first thing I remember after my ribs being shattered by a Chris Cannon C4 is being handed two belts, one being the World Championship.
It didn’t seem real. Even when I came back to face perhaps the greatest tag team in SCW history at Rise to Greatness just months before that, that wasn’t even something I imagined happening. So, me holding the World Championship—that was the impossible being put out into the world and becoming an undeniable truth.
And it was because of Holly.
Holly and Asher. They both brought me back to where I was, and more. I’ve done more in these last two years than I did in all of my time in the company before. Asher built me up to where I used to be. Holly Adams and her life coaching made me into something else entirely.
I no longer had to worry about my legacy being buried beneath more impressive accolades by the better athletes that have and will come along. My name is forever in the record books. Holly gave me the guidance I needed and I put it into action inside that ring and solidified my place in the history of SCW.
So, yeah, I knew what I was doing when I signed that life coaching contract. I knew what I’d get. And I got it. And if whatever happens in this match is the price I have to pay for the bodies left in the wake of my success? So be it. You reap what you sow.
And as for her using me to get to the top? It’s not true.
She never needed me.
Holly has always had the tools necessary to be one of the best competitors in this business. She was just someone who let poor associations and bad decisions keep her from reaching the heights at which she truly belonged.
Sound familiar?
But she’s shown exactly what she’s capable of over this last year. From standing atop a ladder at Rise to Greatness a year ago, to taking a record breaking champion to her limit mentally and physically, all the way to the here and now, defending the integrity of her business and her word against the reigning Male of the Year.
I didn’t get her any of that. She earned it all herself.
Because as much as you want to plot and scheme in this company, the truth is that when it comes down to it, only real talent can beat out other real talent. Holly Adams didn’t headline stadium shows around the United States because she was lucky or because my success somehow rubbed off on her or gave her the spotlight she was seeking. No, she did it because she’s an incredible talent that’s finally getting the chances that she’s always deserved.
So, if anyone gained anything from this partnership over the last year and a half, it’s me. Holly gave me the confidence to be more than I ever was and I used that to win titles, awards, and matches against the best competitors in SCW history—people like Syren and Selena Frost, bonafide legends. With no bullshit, I beat them, and I couldn’t have done it without the seeds Holly planted.
And that’s why I knew that this was coming all along. Because as it always goes, I have to fight my past and my regrets—and make no mistake about it, this is my regret. These are my wrongs.
Which is why I have to say that I’m sorry, Holly.
I should have given you more than I did. I should have taught you in the way that you taught me—giving you the push you need to be better than the person you are.
I know, I’m not a life coach. Hell, I’m not even a real leader. The Positive State didn’t hold a candle to Life Coaching by Holly. To help someone isn’t my specialty, but…I should have been there for you. Not as a life coach, a mentor, or as a business associate. I should have been there for you as a friend. Someone that gives you the strength you need not through catchphrases or monthly payments, but just by actually being there.
I should have been more for you. This match on Sunday, it’s me trying to make up for what I should have been.
As a competitor, I’m the best I’ve ever been. The best I ever will be. For once in my damn life, I actually believe that. I can count on one hand the number of people who have beaten me in the last two years—Ravyn Taylor, Selena Frost, and Autumn Valentine. Two legends of the business and one Star of Tomorrow. These people didn’t get lucky. They beat me because they’re capable of being the greatest of all time.
So are you, Holly.
When we meet inside that ring on Sunday, I want you to show everyone that you didn’t use me for anything. I want everyone to see what I see in you—the raw talent to beat the Goddamn world. For everything you’ve done for me, I want to pay you back by bringing that out of you. I want to give you the confidence you need so that the next time you face someone like Selena Frost or Adam Allocco, you’ll be the one with your arm raised at the end of it.
I don’t know what that means for this Sunday. Maybe you’ll win. Maybe you’ll lose. No matter the result, though, I want it to be earned and appreciated. Whether you’re looking down at my broken body or gazing up at the lights after, I want you to have shown the world everything you’ve got and I want you to feel about me the way I’ve always felt about you. I want you to be able to say, “He made me better.”
I’ve had some of the best matches of my long career here in the last two years. Syren, Datura, Chad Evans, Bree Lancaster, Asher Hayes, Autumn Valentine, and especially Selena Goddamn Frost—these are all people that made me love wrestling. These are all people that brought out everything in me. On Sunday, I know that your name is going to be added to that list, and if it’s the last match I ever have, I’ll be completely content with that. I know you’ll make it worth the twenty long years I’ve been part of this business.
So, when I walk out of Rise to Greatness, I know I won’t be forgotten. You saw to that, turning me into the competitor I always should have been. Now, it’s my turn to return the favor. We’re going to show the world just how good we are—how good I know you are—and what better place than the biggest event of all time?
No more Positive State. No more Life Coaching by Holly. No more trademarks. Just me and you. Two of the best, face-to-face.
Holly Adams versus Cid Turner.
I stood in front of Elizabeth’s front door. Couldn’t help but think of the last time I saw her after one of our classic multi-year breaks from one another.
I’d stood in front of the very same door, but I had the SCW World Championship belt around my waist. I don’t know, I thought it would impress her and show her how I was still capable of greatness after all these years. Beyond being happy to see that I wasn’t miserable in the mountains anymore, she didn’t seem terribly impressed. She never cared much for the wrestling stuff. Sometimes I think I should take after her in that aspect.
But the most memorable thing about that day wasn’t seeing Liz for the first time in almost a decade. It was meeting Sydney. Learning she even existed. Finding out that—with Liz—I had a daughter. Absolutely insane.
And now, she was greeting me at Liz’s front door.
The door swung open to reveal my little offspring. “Hello, father,” she said.
“Hello, daughter,” I replied. This quirky and overly formal greeting had become a little routine, a tradition. She was strange. I liked that about her. “Momma home?”
She nodded and walked off. I went through and shut the door behind me, following Syd through the house.
Liz was in the kitchen, cutting up some vegetables. She saw Sydney and smiled. She saw me following Sydney and very much did not smile. I awkwardly waved. She had to keep up appearances, so she tried her best to force a smile at me as Sydney ran up next to her.
“Dad’s here,” Sydney said.
“I can see that,” Liz said through a false smile and gritted teeth. “Hey, why don’t you go play upstairs?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s fun?”
Sydney shrugged. “I guess,” she said before running out of the room.
Liz watched her go the whole way, smile on her face. Once Sydney was out of sight, she turned back to me and hit me with a well-earned bitch face. “What the hell, Cid?!”
I threw my hands up in defense. “Look, I know I’ve been ghosting you—”
“‘Ghosting?’”
“Holly taught me that word. Is it not right?”
“No, it’s right, it’s just…you sound like an idiot saying it.”
“Nothing new then. Nor is saying this: I’m sorry.”
“Here we fucking go,” she groaned.
Liz tossed the knife to the side—good thing, I wasn’t looking to flirt with being shanked again—and wiped her hands clean before making her way to the kitchen table and taking a seat. I stood there like a moron until she gestured for me to take a seat as well. I guess I was just waiting to be kicked out. She’s too kind to me.
“I’m sorry about David,” I said as I took a seat next to her.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t?” I asked before quickly shaking my head. “Wait, no. It wasn’t. You’re right. I told him to come back to you guys, but—”
“He told me everything,” she cut in. She didn’t seem terribly broken up about it, but she was always good at controlling her emotions, unlike me. “I’ll be honest, I was surprised to hear you vouching for him that hard.”
“So was I.”
“But…he wasn’t in the right place to marry me anymore. And you know what? I don’t think I was in the right place to marry him anymore either. While he was worried about his drinking, I was worried about the time I got high and made out with my ex-husband in a laser tag arena.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“I just wanted to know that you were okay,” she said. “That’s why I was trying to get a hold of you. Yeah, I was pissed that you didn’t stop David from coming or whatever, but that was his choice, as was everything that followed. It’s just…ever since that stupid kiss…” I’ve been desperate to be with you. “…I don’t know. I just didn’t want you to go away for ten years again. You know?”
I nodded and took a look around the kitchen. I swear to God, she said the same thing the first day I came back here, all after I apologized profusely for being a dick. It seemed that my life was just going into a cycle. I was determined to make this one stick, but let’s be honest, my planning never really works out. I’m fucking done planning things.
“I don’t think I will,” I said, looking back at her. “But, uh…I think I’m quitting SCW.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Won’t that make you spiral again?”
“I don’t think so. My spinal stenosis—it’s gotten a bit worse, so…”
“Oh. So you have to stop?”
“Um…no, not really,” I said. I had only just really accepted the fact that I was probably going to be okay, physically speaking. “They said that I can probably go a little longer, just with the usual risks. But…I think I’m done. I’m done fighting.”
Just saying it spawned a lump in my throat. It was always the vocal confirmations that got me. Putting it out into the universe, making it real—that’s where it starts to fucking hurt. I thought of all the people I’d faced, like Selena, Syren, Datura—people that made me feel so alive inside the squared circle.
I was going to miss them, which is something I couldn’t really imagine saying about someone like Selena fucking Frost, but…it’s true. Whether I loved them or hated them, there are just some people that make you feel so special in this business. It’s why I always wanted to come back. It’s the only reason why I don’t want to leave.
But I have to. I have to find more in the world. I have to find the people that make me feel that outside of the ring. In real life. The thing that really matters.
“But why?”
“Honestly, I thought it was because I was dying,” I said. “It turns out, I just have massive anxiety, just like I’ve had for the last several years. While wrestling again kind of helped me with that, I think the tide started to turn, and it was just making me worse. I don’t want to hurt people anymore. I want to help people.”
“Like with your Positive State thing?”
“Oh, Jesus,” I sighed.
My book was in evidence. They’re looking it over. I don’t think any trouble will come from the Positive State. We’d lost the island and the compound for now. I’m not sure what was going to happen to everyone, but…we didn’t really do too much harm. Who knows what would’ve happened if this supposed apocalypse arrived, maybe Elijah would have started slitting throats. I’m not sure, but as it stood, I think we’d be all right.
I can’t speak on the stuff about Asher or the discarded fetuses used to heal my stenosis or the drug use or any other manipulation I might’ve taken part of. I might get in trouble. I might not. I guess I’ll find out soon.
But I had to explain all of the Positive State stuff to Liz, so I did.
Told her everything: the island, the guns, the knives, the tear gas, the crazies, the real ones, and everything else, including the story with Candi and her baby, which Liz couldn’t stop fucking laughing about. I think she was just happy to hear that she wasn’t the only forty year old with a pathetic love life.
I told her about how I never really believed in my relationship with Candi or even the Positive State, but I just wanted something to believe in, something to attach myself to that could give me meaning.
The truth is, though, it’s people like her and Sydney that give me meaning.
I didn’t tell her that part, though. I think she knows. I hope she knows.
“So, yeah, David dodged a bullet,” I finished with a laugh. I stopped laughing when thinking about how I might actually end up in court. Might even end up on Mathis like Holly did. “Anyway, I’ll see what happens there. I’ll probably check in on some people after I wrap things up in SCW on Sunday.”
“Holy shit, Sunday,” Liz echoed. “Shouldn’t you be, like, training or something? Or getting on a flight?!”
“I’ll be fine. Honestly, I’ve never felt so free in the ring. It used to be because I thought I was dying and I had nothing to lose. Now, though, it’s like…this is it. I’m going to go all out, just like I have been, and I think I’m going to actually win. Ride off into the sunset, you know? Or…maybe not. I dunno. I’ll be facing my former life coach, so it might not be pretty. I just hope we can work out our problems in the ring.”
“Wait, that Holly woman? From the wedding? How the—”
“It’s a long fucking story,” I said. I stood up from the table. “Not trying to talk your ear off here, Liz. I was in the area and I just wanted to stop by and make sure you knew that I tried my best with David and say sorry for ghosting you.”
“Please stop saying ‘ghosting,’” she begged.
“I’m actually staying at my folk’s place since I’m kind of homeless now and I have a flight tomorrow, so…yeah. I think I’ll head out.”
Before I could move, she stood up. “Hey, why don’t you stay for dinner?” she said. “You can tell us all about your, uh, life coaching thing.”
I was caught off-guard. I wasn’t expecting her to be so inviting. But why wouldn’t I? After everything I’ve done to her, she’s always welcomed me back, promising me that she’d stick by me, no matter what bullshit I got up to. This is exactly why I’m in love with her. She’s one of few people that actually deals with Cid Turner in all his glory.
“Um…are you sure?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, I know you’re single now, but—”
“Whoa, hold on,” she interrupted, stepping up to me. “Let me make something clear: I meant what I said at your wedding.” My heart sank. I knew it was coming, but I couldn’t help it. “We share a special relationship, as well as a beautiful daughter, but I’m telling you now that I don’t think we’re meant to be, Cid. Not in that way. But you’re important to me—and to Sydney, too. If any of that’s a problem, then let me know…because we can work through it, somehow. We can figure it out. Is it a problem?”
I wanted more than anything to be with Liz. It’s what I’ve been working towards for the last two years. It’s what I’ve been working towards for my whole life. Despite what she says, I really do feel like we’re meant to be. I hope we are.
But if we’re not, then that’s okay. Because no matter what role she or Sydney play in my life, they’re the most important part of it. I’ve come to realize that. Them and the people that actually care for the real me—that’s what I have to live for. Maybe that’s just me coping with not getting exactly what I want. I don’t know…but someone once told me to fake it until I made it, and damn it, I’m going to fucking make it.
“Not a problem at all,” I said with a smile—for once, a real, genuine smile.
She reached out and cupped her hands around my face. Even though I somehow kept this absurd beard and haircut after all these years, she still smiled right back. She was the only person who has ever smiled like that at me, whether I looked like a hobo or not.
After a moment of beautiful silence that I would have been okay with living in forever, she said, “You know I love you, right?”
“I love you, too.”
“Good.”
And so, I’m done writing. I saw this stupid book through, even if the majority of it is in an evidence locker. I also tried my best to sort everything else out in the event of my death that never came. Or, shit, maybe it’s still coming. I don’t know. Either way, it’s time for me to stop worrying about that and about getting everything out there—whether it’s from writing some bogus memoir or talking shit into a mic for millions or preaching positivity or fighting for money or whatever.
I’m just going to start living. I kind of forgot what that’s like, you know? It’s like starting all over again…and if there’s anyone that can use a fresh start, it’s me. This time, I’ll do it right, even if I’m sometimes wrong. I’ll take the good with the bad and, one day, I’ll make it. I know I will.
And who knows? Maybe when “one day” comes, I’ll be right back here, writing about it all. Maybe I’ll have one hell of a story to tell. Maybe it’ll even be a happy one. Either way, it’ll be my story, and I can say with confidence that there’s only one me. For better or worse, there’s only one Cid Turner.
THE RISE OF THE FALLEN KING 
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