“Don't look, don'tlook," the shadows breathe

Whispering me awayfrom you

Don't wake at night towatch her sleep

You know that you willalways lose

This trembling,adored, tousled bird mad girl.”

So, this is what it looks like. Starting over. I lean withmy elbows rested against the railing, over-looking the city. I laugh becausethis used to not have a railing. Just a sheer drop. I liked to think that itwas all because of me, and all those nights of dropping downward, leadingsomeone to think I was just another wasted goth junkie with a dark trip and adeath wish. I was, once, but not now. And the railing, I haven’t been here inyears. I’m sure it was for mere safety reasons that should’ve been taken careof before I ever darkened these halls.

Ah, PWT, you salty bitch, you. Good to see ya again.

That other place? I thought I could rescue it. Hell, even mybrother in all his bravado wanted to save it, but neither of us could. Heattacked me in thinking that without me, W2K would be better. The public neverhad a chance to find out. San Antonio was left without a home team and the “Dub”as it was so affectionately(?) turned the lights out without anyone else makingso much as a whimper. Where were they? The champions. Cain. The Dangerouslys.Stevenson. Where were they? As is usual, it was the mutants who showed theycared the most while the others were just too good for Texas anymore. I wastold to give up and leave, that it was dead. I would usually have spat in thatperson’s face, said “Fuck you,” and fought against the odds anyway. However, Iknow a corpse when I see one. No use in resurrecting this one. Lazarus doesn’tlive in Texas. It’s time to turn my attention elsewhere.

PWT. My first wrestling home. When I first walked its halls,it was a dying corpse. It was here I first found my love for the MSN, now AimooCircuit. I met the legendary Black Widow. Despite what happened between us, I’mthankful for meeting her and the chance she gave me. She gave a shit.Challenged me physically, mentally, emotionally. The rest is history…most of itgood. PWT, it’s good to be here. It’s a new beginning with an old friend. Thepast is gone, and the present is full of the light of dawn. I was a championonce, I want to be one again. The only thing that makes sense in this world,other than the family I have left and music, is wrestling.  

Wherever she is, Ihope she’s happy. I still have to fight the urge to wish her all the pain inthe world, but it’s an easier fight. If she ever shows up in my life again, Idon’t know what I’ll do. I think I’ll be okay, but for now, I can only wonder.I’m not going to search for her. I’m not going to bleed or cry or change myhairstyle for her. I had to pick myself up off the ground, because, let’s face it,when you can fly, you miss the wind on your face. The ground becomes a prison.

She was too afraid to fly, the warrior she was, and she leteverything stop her from being great. She’s just a shell, now. A prison. Weshare a beautiful child, a son, and he can see his mother all he wants. I’mjust not going to. If she teaches him it’s okay to hold everything in, be ashield to hurt, I’m going to confront her, but for now…she doesn’t exist in myworld as a lover. Only as a mother to my son. He’s a  strong one, Brandon. Drew Stevenson thoughthe could manipulate him, thought that Bran’s silence meant he was mad at me,but that wasn’t the truth. He knew Stevenson was only after Terri’s body andher prestige, he knew. I didn’t think Brandon would forgive me, but he told methat he loved me. That it all didn’t matter. I think he thinks Terri and I willget back together, but I don’t know. I don’t want to let down my son, becauseTerri…she’s a sinking ship, and she won’t let swim out to her. I was told myempathy would kill me, but no, it wouldn’t.

A shot of Nev’s painted face, his pupils starting to glowred.

“’Just paint yourface,’ the shadows smile

Slipping me away fromyou

Oh it doesn't matterhow you hide

Find you if we'rewanting to

So slide back down andclose your eyes

Sleep awhile, you mustbe tired.”

It’s my anger. My lack of empathy when I’m angry. I cannotrest. I cannot sleep until that demon is defeated. Tristan Wallace isNevyrmorr. Nevyrmorr isn’t Tristan Wallace.

“Umm….excuse me, sir?”

“Wow, you must be really lost or really bored. Nobody comesup here, but me.”

Her face lights up as I turn around. Crap. It’s one of thosepeople who can’t separate fiction from reality. Then again, when you’re afire-breathing mutant who paints his face and flies, it’s hard to tell thedifference. That’s the life when your life is a comic book.

“So, it is you,” she speaks as though I’m important, “You’rehim.”

I nod, “Yes.”

Silence.

“Who am I supposed to be?”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, “You’re Nevyrmorr.”

I nod again.

“Yes, are you a fan?”

She shakes her head, “I’m new here. I’m a wrestler. I’m justglad I found somebody I recognized.”

I nod upward, slowly, and open my mouth, “Ahhh, I see. So,the first place you go to is the roof?”

She shrugs, “No, I was looking around and came up here forsome air. Take everything in.”

I’m sure that’s what is.

“Right,” I smirk faintly.

She nudges me, “I’m serious! I promise you, I’m not afangirl.”

I keep staring at her and decide to believe her. I huff andsmirk again, “So does fangirl have a name or do you want me to keep calling youfangirl?”

She sticks out her hand, “I’m DeMonna Devon. I’m wrestlingas DeVon Demonio.”

I accept the hand, “Tristan Wallace, you know the rest.”