Post by Crash Rodriguez on Oct 1, 2022 22:49:03 GMT -5
"And what about this one?"
I stare at the black smudged over white paper. We've been at this for hours, and my eyes have grown heavy.
"Sorry doc, I'm just a bit tired right now."
"Let's move to the next."
She flips over to the next blot test that causes my arm hairs to stand up. My lips are cold, as the image gains clarity.
—
I sit eyes glued to the tv, waiting for the commercial to end.
"STOP! PLEASE!"
"Fuck you and your please, bitch."
Before I even know it I'm off the floor and rushing out of my bedroom, my heart racing as I turn the hall and head down the stairs.
"MOM?"
—
"Kind of looks like a butterfly."
"Mhmm.. and what about this one?"
"Is this really necessary doc?"
"Mr. Rodriguez, I know this can be a pain and even a bore, but it's important. Besides, we're almost done here."
My eyes glance around the room. It couldn't be a more stereotypical shrink's office if it tried, complete with the wall of diplomas, bookshelves full of books nobody cares to read, and of course, the fake fruit in a basket.
"Are you ready to continue?"
I close my eyes and nod my head. My eyes flutter open as I stare into another black splatter panel, the edges morphing and twisting into detailed memory once again.
—
I hear a smack follow another, as I nearly stumble down the stairs. Panic has taken over, my jaw tightening around itself as I round the bottom of the stairs. My heart stops as does my feet, my eyes glued to a belt buckle as it flails through the air, cutting it.
“Where were you?!”
My mother muffles a response before letting out a shriek as the metal whips across her arm.
“I told you, I picked up another shift.”
“Cheating lying whore!”
With another crack of the belt, my mother’s flesh is bruised and battered, while it feels my shoes are stapled to the floor. My body refuses to move, as tears build in my eyes.
—
“Looks like two bears high fiving.”
“Interesting.”
“Look, I get this is your job, but can we maybe rush this along.”
“I’ll try, but only as much as I can. I must maintain accuracy in our tests, now how about this one?”
I keep my head low, abstaining eye contact with the next page. I keep my breathing steady, but I feel my heart begin to pump, nearly ripping out of my chest.
“Ice cream sundae.”
My tongue dries behind the lie, but I catch her eyes in mine. She stares at me a second, before continuing her notes. Silence lingers in the air, tainting any peace that could be found. I can tell she knows I’m bullshitting her, and now I’m just waiting for her to call me out.
“How’d I do, doc?”
“Very good, Mr. Rodriguez.”
Again the room is still, except for the lone scratching of her pen against her papers. The scribbling soon absorbs the room, my mind unable to detach itself from its hypnotic scapings.
—
Another lashing of his belt lacerates my mother’s cheek. My whole body is cold except for the pit of my stomach. I feel nauseated as tears fall down my cheek like rivers.
“Charlie! NO! Please-”
The man snaps towards me, his eyes catch mine, and it seems as if time has stopped.
“This don't concern you, boy. It’s between me and your whore mother.”
“I swear, I took another shi-”
“STOP LYING!”
He turns around, bashing her across the mouth with the back of his hand. She whimpers under the pain, as my eyes dart around the room.
—
“Alright, Mr. Rodriguez, have you had any lapses in memory or similar dissociative events?”
“Nothing like that at all.”
I flash her a smile, but she easily rejects the attempt. I sit there as she finishes her notes.
“Mr. Rodriguez, are you sure? Because we’ve been here for quite some time and you’ve not seemed, well all that here. I’ve noticed moments where you seem detached.”
“I’m sorry, doc. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. See I’m a wrestler.”
“Right, I saw that in your file. Care to tell me more about that.”
I lay down in the chair, feeling a light pop in my shoulder as I relax a bit.
“I got this match coming up soon, like this monday soon. Now, I’m not trying to say I’ve not been nervous before, I mean Tamika’s title reign looked like a mountain, and sometimes I’m still surprised I got over it. But this guy, PIC, he’s something else. Got this chance to be a double champion soon, and honestly, I like his odds. Man knows when to bet on himself, that’s for sure.”
“And you’re worried he’ll beat you? That you'll lose?”
“There’s no shame in losing to Steve Wilson. The man’s good. No, I just don’t wanna be outclassed. I may not have the years of experience that he does, nor the crowd behind me, but I’ve seen hell the type he’d never recover from.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s very so.”
“Care to elaborate? Perhaps exploring this so-called “hell” could help us make positive strides in your health.”
I chuckle a bit, catching myself after nearly stepping into her trap. She’s a clever one, more clever than the last couple for sure.
“Trust me, I’ve dealt with this hell already, not much left to explore there. Nothing left to bleed, let alone cry over. Not anymore. Eyes to the future, right?”
I lean back, closing my eyes, as a yawn escapes me. I look over at the clock, hoping our session is over.
“Optimism can go a long way in recovery, but it can also be a form of deception.”
“Nothing but the honest to god truth from me.”
She leans in her chair, closing the notepad, her eyes lingering upon me like daggers waiting for the moment to slit my throat.
“Well, I think we’re making good progress, but sadly it seems we’re out of time. I would love to have you in again soon though, how does 2 weeks from today sound?”
I’d rather drop my sack on a mouse trap, but I smile at her and nod my head.
“I’ll put it down in my schedule.”
“Splendid, until then I hope you continue taking care of yourself.”
“As best I can. I got a kid after all.”
She closes her notes and guides me out of her office. I step through the halls and exit out into the lobby, where I find Lou fast asleep in one of the waiting room chairs. His mustache hairs gently sway against his snoring. Not often I see the man at ease, it always seems he’s always moving a mile a minute. Alas I interrupt his slumber with a swift kick to the leg of his chair, startling him awake.
“I’m up, I’m up! Errgh… How’d it go, kid? What’d the doc say?”
Lou rubs at his eyes, knocking off the sand from the corners. I help him to his feet, turning towards the door.
“She says I’m perfectly fine. Sees no reason to have me back. Guess that’s a 100% crystal clear bill of health, huh?”
“Really? You mention that zoning out thing you’ve been dealing with?”
“Obviously. She says it’s probably just stress. Like from a combination of Bash and the job.”
“So what, just rest?”
“She said if anything gets worse, give her a call. Otherwise, carry on as normal. So there's nothing stopping me from getting back to work, and handing PIC his loss.”
I make my way through the parking lot, following my representation towards the minibus, or the ‘Pohl Patrol’ as he’s begun calling it. It isn’t long before we’re sailing the asphalt waves of Kansas City, rushing home to the sounds of the Steve Miller Band tape forever stuck in the radio. Lou taps on the steering wheel, in tune to the music, well as in tune as he could ever be. As the taps continue on, my eyes flutter shut.
—
“Quit your crying, bitch.”
Another smack across her face, and my blood has boiled over. I lunge at the my mother’s boyfriend, scratching at his face as my mother begins screaming, begging.
“No, Charlie! Stop! Don’t hurt my baby!”
The man bats me away, as if I was little more than a fly.
“You fuckin’ stupid boy? What do you think your eight year old ass was gonna accomplish here, huh?”
The man takes another swipe at me, connecting with my jaw and sending me to the floor.
“STEVE! Please, stop!”
“Little fucker has it coming, and when I’m done with him, I’m dealing with you once and for all.”
I launch myself at my mother’s assailant once again, luckily I catch him off guard and the two of us topple to the ground. He flails and struggles to free himself, but I continue to keep a hold of both of his legs, biting at his ankles as my head bounces off his shins.
“Get off me you little shit!”
As I get thrown about, my teeth continue to tear into his legs, as my nails rips at his skin. As he continues to curse and yell, I notice my mother grabbing the phone from the corner of my eyes. A smile washes over my face, knowing help will be on the way, but my smile quickly folds into nothing as his foot smashed into my temple. My vision shakes, and my ears ring as I hear my mom’s screams as she runs towards me. Before she can reach me, Steve has grabbed her by her throat as the whole room goes dark.
—
“Wake up, kid. We’re home.”
I try to shield myself from the burning light as I wake back into reality. I overlook my home, a link to my mother, my past, and even my own trauma. It’s gotten easier to walk its halls, yet life has stagnated, remaining consistent in its difficulty to traverse.
“So, uhm… This PIC match must really be eating at your nerves huh?”
I stretch out my arms, letting out a groggy response as I strain.
“What makes you say that?”
“You were, uh, talking in your sleep. Kept bringing up a ‘Steve’ and going on about hurting him this way and that..”
“Well, you know me, Lou. Always focused on the next challenge.”
I step out of the van and pull a cigarette from my pack. It dangles from my lips as I light the end. I take a few puffs, watching the smoke rise, before gesturing Lou inside.
“Hey man, Imma finish this smoke, I’ll meet you inside.”
Lou nods at me as he disappears up the front porch and into the house. I look around my neighborhood as I take in a deep breath. I suppose this Steve will have to do... For now
I stare at the black smudged over white paper. We've been at this for hours, and my eyes have grown heavy.
"Sorry doc, I'm just a bit tired right now."
"Let's move to the next."
She flips over to the next blot test that causes my arm hairs to stand up. My lips are cold, as the image gains clarity.
—
I sit eyes glued to the tv, waiting for the commercial to end.
"STOP! PLEASE!"
"Fuck you and your please, bitch."
Before I even know it I'm off the floor and rushing out of my bedroom, my heart racing as I turn the hall and head down the stairs.
"MOM?"
—
"Kind of looks like a butterfly."
"Mhmm.. and what about this one?"
"Is this really necessary doc?"
"Mr. Rodriguez, I know this can be a pain and even a bore, but it's important. Besides, we're almost done here."
My eyes glance around the room. It couldn't be a more stereotypical shrink's office if it tried, complete with the wall of diplomas, bookshelves full of books nobody cares to read, and of course, the fake fruit in a basket.
"Are you ready to continue?"
I close my eyes and nod my head. My eyes flutter open as I stare into another black splatter panel, the edges morphing and twisting into detailed memory once again.
—
I hear a smack follow another, as I nearly stumble down the stairs. Panic has taken over, my jaw tightening around itself as I round the bottom of the stairs. My heart stops as does my feet, my eyes glued to a belt buckle as it flails through the air, cutting it.
“Where were you?!”
My mother muffles a response before letting out a shriek as the metal whips across her arm.
“I told you, I picked up another shift.”
“Cheating lying whore!”
With another crack of the belt, my mother’s flesh is bruised and battered, while it feels my shoes are stapled to the floor. My body refuses to move, as tears build in my eyes.
—
“Looks like two bears high fiving.”
“Interesting.”
“Look, I get this is your job, but can we maybe rush this along.”
“I’ll try, but only as much as I can. I must maintain accuracy in our tests, now how about this one?”
I keep my head low, abstaining eye contact with the next page. I keep my breathing steady, but I feel my heart begin to pump, nearly ripping out of my chest.
“Ice cream sundae.”
My tongue dries behind the lie, but I catch her eyes in mine. She stares at me a second, before continuing her notes. Silence lingers in the air, tainting any peace that could be found. I can tell she knows I’m bullshitting her, and now I’m just waiting for her to call me out.
“How’d I do, doc?”
“Very good, Mr. Rodriguez.”
Again the room is still, except for the lone scratching of her pen against her papers. The scribbling soon absorbs the room, my mind unable to detach itself from its hypnotic scapings.
—
Another lashing of his belt lacerates my mother’s cheek. My whole body is cold except for the pit of my stomach. I feel nauseated as tears fall down my cheek like rivers.
“Charlie! NO! Please-”
The man snaps towards me, his eyes catch mine, and it seems as if time has stopped.
“This don't concern you, boy. It’s between me and your whore mother.”
“I swear, I took another shi-”
“STOP LYING!”
He turns around, bashing her across the mouth with the back of his hand. She whimpers under the pain, as my eyes dart around the room.
—
“Alright, Mr. Rodriguez, have you had any lapses in memory or similar dissociative events?”
“Nothing like that at all.”
I flash her a smile, but she easily rejects the attempt. I sit there as she finishes her notes.
“Mr. Rodriguez, are you sure? Because we’ve been here for quite some time and you’ve not seemed, well all that here. I’ve noticed moments where you seem detached.”
“I’m sorry, doc. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. See I’m a wrestler.”
“Right, I saw that in your file. Care to tell me more about that.”
I lay down in the chair, feeling a light pop in my shoulder as I relax a bit.
“I got this match coming up soon, like this monday soon. Now, I’m not trying to say I’ve not been nervous before, I mean Tamika’s title reign looked like a mountain, and sometimes I’m still surprised I got over it. But this guy, PIC, he’s something else. Got this chance to be a double champion soon, and honestly, I like his odds. Man knows when to bet on himself, that’s for sure.”
“And you’re worried he’ll beat you? That you'll lose?”
“There’s no shame in losing to Steve Wilson. The man’s good. No, I just don’t wanna be outclassed. I may not have the years of experience that he does, nor the crowd behind me, but I’ve seen hell the type he’d never recover from.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s very so.”
“Care to elaborate? Perhaps exploring this so-called “hell” could help us make positive strides in your health.”
I chuckle a bit, catching myself after nearly stepping into her trap. She’s a clever one, more clever than the last couple for sure.
“Trust me, I’ve dealt with this hell already, not much left to explore there. Nothing left to bleed, let alone cry over. Not anymore. Eyes to the future, right?”
I lean back, closing my eyes, as a yawn escapes me. I look over at the clock, hoping our session is over.
“Optimism can go a long way in recovery, but it can also be a form of deception.”
“Nothing but the honest to god truth from me.”
She leans in her chair, closing the notepad, her eyes lingering upon me like daggers waiting for the moment to slit my throat.
“Well, I think we’re making good progress, but sadly it seems we’re out of time. I would love to have you in again soon though, how does 2 weeks from today sound?”
I’d rather drop my sack on a mouse trap, but I smile at her and nod my head.
“I’ll put it down in my schedule.”
“Splendid, until then I hope you continue taking care of yourself.”
“As best I can. I got a kid after all.”
She closes her notes and guides me out of her office. I step through the halls and exit out into the lobby, where I find Lou fast asleep in one of the waiting room chairs. His mustache hairs gently sway against his snoring. Not often I see the man at ease, it always seems he’s always moving a mile a minute. Alas I interrupt his slumber with a swift kick to the leg of his chair, startling him awake.
“I’m up, I’m up! Errgh… How’d it go, kid? What’d the doc say?”
Lou rubs at his eyes, knocking off the sand from the corners. I help him to his feet, turning towards the door.
“She says I’m perfectly fine. Sees no reason to have me back. Guess that’s a 100% crystal clear bill of health, huh?”
“Really? You mention that zoning out thing you’ve been dealing with?”
“Obviously. She says it’s probably just stress. Like from a combination of Bash and the job.”
“So what, just rest?”
“She said if anything gets worse, give her a call. Otherwise, carry on as normal. So there's nothing stopping me from getting back to work, and handing PIC his loss.”
I make my way through the parking lot, following my representation towards the minibus, or the ‘Pohl Patrol’ as he’s begun calling it. It isn’t long before we’re sailing the asphalt waves of Kansas City, rushing home to the sounds of the Steve Miller Band tape forever stuck in the radio. Lou taps on the steering wheel, in tune to the music, well as in tune as he could ever be. As the taps continue on, my eyes flutter shut.
—
“Quit your crying, bitch.”
Another smack across her face, and my blood has boiled over. I lunge at the my mother’s boyfriend, scratching at his face as my mother begins screaming, begging.
“No, Charlie! Stop! Don’t hurt my baby!”
The man bats me away, as if I was little more than a fly.
“You fuckin’ stupid boy? What do you think your eight year old ass was gonna accomplish here, huh?”
The man takes another swipe at me, connecting with my jaw and sending me to the floor.
“STEVE! Please, stop!”
“Little fucker has it coming, and when I’m done with him, I’m dealing with you once and for all.”
I launch myself at my mother’s assailant once again, luckily I catch him off guard and the two of us topple to the ground. He flails and struggles to free himself, but I continue to keep a hold of both of his legs, biting at his ankles as my head bounces off his shins.
“Get off me you little shit!”
As I get thrown about, my teeth continue to tear into his legs, as my nails rips at his skin. As he continues to curse and yell, I notice my mother grabbing the phone from the corner of my eyes. A smile washes over my face, knowing help will be on the way, but my smile quickly folds into nothing as his foot smashed into my temple. My vision shakes, and my ears ring as I hear my mom’s screams as she runs towards me. Before she can reach me, Steve has grabbed her by her throat as the whole room goes dark.
—
“Wake up, kid. We’re home.”
I try to shield myself from the burning light as I wake back into reality. I overlook my home, a link to my mother, my past, and even my own trauma. It’s gotten easier to walk its halls, yet life has stagnated, remaining consistent in its difficulty to traverse.
“So, uhm… This PIC match must really be eating at your nerves huh?”
I stretch out my arms, letting out a groggy response as I strain.
“What makes you say that?”
“You were, uh, talking in your sleep. Kept bringing up a ‘Steve’ and going on about hurting him this way and that..”
“Well, you know me, Lou. Always focused on the next challenge.”
I step out of the van and pull a cigarette from my pack. It dangles from my lips as I light the end. I take a few puffs, watching the smoke rise, before gesturing Lou inside.
“Hey man, Imma finish this smoke, I’ll meet you inside.”
Lou nods at me as he disappears up the front porch and into the house. I look around my neighborhood as I take in a deep breath. I suppose this Steve will have to do... For now