Hurt

October 4th, 2024- ReVival 56 The arena falls silent as the video screen comes to life and Agent Zarya's piercing gaze fills the frame, her long black ushanka casting ominous shadows across her face. The tight red top emblazoned with 'USSR' hugs her curves, fishnet-clad arms folded imperiously.

"Jonathan-Christopher," her voice… complete with fake Russian accent... purrs, drips with malice, "your wife has been quite busy behind your back."

Jonathan-Christopher Hall's stomach lurches. He wants to look away, but his eyes are glued to the screen as it cuts to a dimly lit bedroom. His wife Vickie's tousled blonde hair splays across unfamiliar pillows, her face flushed with passion as she writhes beneath another man.

The crowd gasps, a collective intake of breath that seems to suck all the air from the arena. Jonathan's jaw clenches so tight he fears his teeth might shatter.  Vickie's throaty moans echo through the speakers, each one a dagger to Jonathan's heart. His mind races, desperately searching for an explanation, a way to deny what he's seeing.

The video fades to black, leaving Jonathan standing frozen in the center of the ring. His chest heaves as he struggles for breath, rage and sorrow warring within him. How could she do this? After everything they'd been through?

The ring ropes offer meager support as he stumbles toward them, gesturing desperately for a microphone. His fingers close around the cold metal, trembling with barely contained emotion.

"I DEMAND TO KNOW WHO DID THIS!" he chokes out, falling to his knees. Tears stream down his face, glistening under the harsh arena lights. The words escape as a primal roar, reverberating through the stunned silence.

Two simple words slice through the tension like a blade. "I did."

Gasps erupt from the crowd when they all turn simultaneously as in a jaw-dropping moment, Adam Ellis emerges on the stage. His imposing 6'4" frame seems diminished somehow, shoulders hunched with the weight of his confession.

Jonathan-Christopher's eyes widen in disbelief, his face contorting into a mask of shock and betrayal.

Adam's gentle voice carries clearly across the arena, heavy with remorse. "It was me."

The words hang in the air, final and damning.

October 5th, 2024- MVW House Show-Olathe, Kansas: Adam Ellis vs. ‘The Soviet Hammer’ Boris Antonov w/Agent Zarya The bell rings and Adam Ellis stands in the corner, his towering 6'4" frame uncharacteristically slumped. Across the ring, Boris Antonov sneers, muscles rippling beneath his Soviet-red trunks with Agent Zarya (formerly Adam’s manager Dawn McGill) draping her arms all over Antonov.

"Come on, American dog!" Antonov taunts. "Show what little fight you have left!"

Zarya blows Adam a derisive and taunting kiss.

Adam's eyes remain lost in a haze of guilt and regret.

Antonov tires of waiting and charges, slamming Adam into the turnbuckle. The impact jolts Ellis back to reality. For the next two agonizing minutes, Antonov toys with Adam like a cat with a mouse. Body slams thunder through the ring. Clotheslines snap Adam's head back. Punishing kicks drive the air from his lungs. Adam offers no resistance.

"Fight back!" a fan yells from the front row.

Antonov laughs, grabbing Adam by the throat. "Pathetic!"

Finally, Antonov lifts Adam high, his muscles straining under the 225-pound load. "This is end, traitor!" he roars.

The Soviet Hammer connects, driving Adam into the mat with bone-jarring force. The referee's hand slaps the canvas.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rings, but Adam barely hears it through the fog of pain and self-loathing.

As Adam lies motionless on the mat, Agent Zarya slinks into the ring. She looms over him, her red-clad form a blur in Adam's watering eyes. "You disgust me," she hisses, before spitting directly in his face.

The woman formerly known as Dawn McGill turns, pulling Antonov into a passionate embrace. Their kiss is a spectacle, a final humiliation for the fallen Adam Ellis.

Sunday morning October 6th, 2024 The next morning, a bruised and sore Ellis returns home for the first time since he made his shocking revelation. The gentle rumble of Adam's pickup truck fades as he pulls into the driveway of his apartment complex. His massive hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension.

He notices the absence of Ginny's truck.  It sends a wave of relief through his battered body.

"She's probably just out shoppin'," Adam mutters to himself, his soft Missouri drawl carrying a tremor of uncertainty. "Gives me time to... to figure out what to say."

He grabs his gear, wincing as his bruised ribs protest. The walk to their apartment feels like miles, each step heavy with dread. Adam fumbles with his keys, the silence that greets him as he opens the door more deafening than any crowd's roar.

Adam's heart pounds as he drops his bags and stumbles towards the kitchen. There, on the center of the table, sits a sight that stops him cold: Ginny's wedding ring, her apartment key, and her phone.

The reality of what he's seeing crashes over him like a tidal wave. Adam's feet carry him down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. He pauses at Abbigail's room, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, he pushes it open.

The sight that greets him shatters what's left of his composure. The crib stands empty, a stark reminder of what he's lost. No stuffed animals, no colorful mobiles, no stack of diapers. The room feels hollow, devoid of the life and love that once filled it.

His knees give out, and he crumples to the floor. The 6'4" frame curls in on itself, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Adam cradles his head in his massive hands, fingers tangling in his hair.

With trembling hands, Adam pulls out his phone. He scrolls through contacts, desperation mounting with each name.

"Someone's gotta know where they went," he mutters, thumbing through the list. But as he stares at the screen, a crushing realization hits him.

There's no one to call.

Ginny’s parents are dead.  Adam doesn’t really know any of her relatives in Kentucky aside from Cletus and Enos T. Johnson… Ginny’s cousins… and he sure as hell wasn’t going to call them.

The phone slips from his grasp, clattering to the floor.

Monday October 7th- St. Louis, Missouri The gym thrums with energy, a stark contrast to Sunny O'Callahan's mounting anxiety. Her frizzy blonde hair bounces as she paces near the entrance, green eyes darting between her phone and the door.

"Come on, Adam," she mutters, her voice a blend of California cool and Irish lilt. "Where are you, big guy?"

Sunny takes another swig from her water bottle, grimacing. "Shoulda spiked this," she grumbles, her laid-back facade cracking.

The endless ringing of Adam's phone echoes in her ear before cutting to voicemail. Again.

"Dammit!" Sunny hisses, her free hand clenching into a fist.

She leans against the wall, mind racing, realizing how much of a major crisis she had on her hands. JCH and Vickie's marriage on the rocks, Adam and Ginny's relationship imploding, the tag team with Bryan Dawkins hanging by a thread.

"This is bad," Sunny thinks, gnawing on her lower lip. "Real bad."

Her eyes narrow, a spark of determination igniting. "Tuesday's house show," she says aloud, voice firm... and hopeful.  "He's gotta be there.”

Sunny's phone buzzes. For a moment, hope flares – but it's just Bryan, asking if she's heard from Adam.

Not yet, she types back, frustration evident even in her texts.

Tuesday October 8th- Banterra Arena- Carbondale, Illinois The backstage area of the MVW house show buzzes with frenetic energy, stagehands and wrestlers rushing past in a blur. Sunny's eyes scan the crowd, searching for one particular hulking frame. Her heart skips when she finally spots him, relief quickly replaced by concern.

"There you are!" she calls out, striding towards Adam. His shoulders are slumped, eyes unfocused. Without waiting for a response, Sunny grabs his arm. "We need to talk.”

“Sunny-“

“We need to talk… now!”

Adam doesn't resist as she drags him into an empty dressing room, the door shutting with a soft click. The silence is deafening.

"What's going on, Adam?" Sunny demands, her voice softening as she takes in his haggard appearance. "You look like hell, sweetie.  Why aren’t you answering your phone.  Why aren’t you showing up at training?  What the hell is going on with you?"

Adam slumps onto a nearby chair, his massive frame seeming to shrink before her eyes. "It's all gone, Sunny," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The subtle twang of his Midwestern accent is more pronounced, laden with grief. "Ginny, Abbigail... everything."

Sunny's heart clenches. She kneels beside him, placing a hand on his massive forearm. The usually gentle giant seems fragile, broken.

"Talk to me, big guy," she coaxes, fighting to keep her own voice steady.

Adam's gaze finally meets hers, pain etched in every line of his face. "She’s gone… it’s over, don't see the point anymore."

Sunny opens her mouth to respond, but the room suddenly erupts in chaos. The door crashes open with a thunderous bang, splintering wood flying through the air. Two massive figures fill the doorway, their hulking frames casting long shadows into the room.

"You done messed with the wrong family, boy!" Cletus Johnson roars, his eyes blazing with unbridled fury. The thick Southern drawl drips with venom as he locks onto Adam.

Adam's instincts kick in, adrenaline surging through his veins. He rises from the chair, his 6'4" frame unfolding like a spring. But his mind is sluggish, still reeling from the emotional toll of recent events.

Ginny's family, Adam realizes with a sickening lurch. They know.

Cletus charges forward like a raging bull. His meaty hand connects with Sunny, shoving her aside with brutal force. She stumbles, a yelp of surprise escaping her lips as she crashes into a nearby table.

"Sunny!" Adam calls out, concern for his friend momentarily overriding his own peril.

That split second of distraction costs him dearly. Cletus's massive form slams into Adam, launching him into the wall with bone-jarring force. The impact knocks the wind from his lungs, stars exploding behind his eyes.

"No!" Sunny's scream pierces the air, high and desperate. "Stop it!"

But her pleas fall on deaf ears. Enos, the other half of the Kentucky Redneck Mafia, joins the fray. His boot connects with Adam's ribs, each impact driving what little air remains from his body. Adam curls inward instinctively, trying to protect his vital organs, but his mind is foggy from the initial blow.

"This is for our cousin’ Ginny," Enos snarls, punctuating each word with another vicious kick.

Sunny's screams for help echo through the corridor, a desperate plea cutting through the sounds of the assault. "Somebody! Anybody! Please, help us!"

Adam's vision blurs, the room spinning around him. Each impact sends waves of agony through his battered body, but the physical pain pales in comparison to the ache in his heart.

Suddenly, new voices join the cacophony. Loud, angry shouts pierce the fog of Adam's consciousness.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" a deep Southern drawl bellows.

The assault momentarily pauses as R.G. Jenkins and David Bonnett - the Alabama Gang - charge into the room. Their unexpected arrival catches the Kentucky Redneck Mafia off guard.

"This ain't your business, boys," Cletus growls.

"Th’ hell it ain't," R.G. retorts, his massive frame blocking the doorway. "Y’all have done enough.  You want more, you gotta go through us first."

David Bonnett cracks his knuckles menacingly. "And trust me, fellas, you don't want that."

The tension in the room is palpable as the two teams face off. For a moment, it seems like another brawl might erupt. But then, with a final snarl of frustration, Cletus jerks his head towards the door.

"This ain't over, Ellis," he warns as he and Enos retreat.

Sunday October 20th- Missouri Valley Wrestling’s Heartland PPV- Indianapolis, Indiana The harsh fluorescent lights of the arena burn Adam Ellis's eyes as he limps through the backstage area. His body, a patchwork of bandages and bruises, tells the story of the brutal assault he endured at PRIME's ReVival 57 at the hands of Jonathan-Christopher Hall.  The latest incident in the downward spiral of Adam Ellis’s life and wrestling career.

"Adam!" Sunny O'Callahan's voice cuts through the din of pre-show preparations. She rushes to his side, her face etched with concern. Adam showed up only once at training since ReVival 57 and Sunny knew there was no way he should be setting foot in the ring in the mindset he was in.  "You can't seriously be thinking of going through with this match."

Adam's eyes, once bright with determination, now dull and lifeless, meet hers. "What else am I supposed to do, Sunny? It's all I have left."

Sunny grabs his arm, her touch gentle but insistent. "You're in no condition to wrestle.”

A bitter laugh escapes Adam's lips. "It doesn’t matter anymore."

As they near the entrance to the arena, the roar of the crowd grows louder. The opening notes of his entrance music blare through the speakers. Adam takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come. He steps through the curtain into the blinding lights of the arena. The crowd's reaction is mixed – some cheers, some boos, but mostly a confused murmur as they take in his battered appearance.

As he makes his way to the ring, Adam's mind is elsewhere… listening to the haunting melody that plays over and over in his head...

“I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real The needle tears a hole The old familiar sting Try to kill it all away But I remember everything…”

He mindlessly climbs in and the second the bell rings, Jackson wastes no time capitalizing on Adam's weakened state. Each blow lands… each move hits with sickening precision, but Adam barely registers the pain, instead focusing on the Johnny Cash song playing inside his mind.

“What have I become My sweetest friend? Everyone I know Goes away in the end And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt…”

The match is brutally one-sided. Adam offers no resistance, his hulking 6'4" frame little more than a training exercise for his opponent’s relentless assault. The crowd's excited cheers gradually turn to uncomfortable silence, punctuated by gasps of concern.

“I wear this crown of thorns Upon my liar's chair Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair Beneath the stains of time The feelings disappear You are someone else I am still right here…”

After two minutes, Tiger Jackson climbs to the top rope, preparing for his finishing move. As Adam lies prone on the mat, the Moonsault Press connects with devastating impact. Adam's world goes black. Jackson gets the easy three-count and wins the match.

“What have I become My sweetest friend? Everyone I know Goes away in the end And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt…”

Suddenly, the arena erupts in chaos.  The ring shakes as the Kentucky Redneck Mafia… Cletus T. Johnson and Enos T. Johnson… storm in and first ejects Jackson forcibly from the ring. Adam tries to move, to defend himself, but his body won't respond. He can only lie there, helpless, as fists and boots rain down on him.

Sunny's voice cuts through the mayhem. "Stop it!" she screams, her California cool replaced by raw fury. Adam hears a scuffle, then Sunny's muffled curses.

"Stay outta this, blondie," Enos T. Johnson growls. "This here's family business."

Through swollen eyes, Adam catches glimpses of Sunny handcuffed to the ring post, her frizzy blonde hair wild as she struggles against her restraints, desperately calling for help from the back, helpless watching the assault continue.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos like a knife.  “STOP!”

Cletus and Enos pull up and turn towards the stage.

"No more!"

Adam forces his eyes open.  He turns his head towards the source of the voice and sees her.

“Ginny?”

His heart skips a beat.  It's Ginny.  The first time he... or anyone else... has seen her in over two weeks.  Ginny's face is expressionless but you can see in her eyes what she's gone through the past couple weeks as she stands on the stage with her fiery red hair a beacon in the arena's harsh lights.

"This ain't what I want," Ginny declares, her Kentucky drawl thick with emotion. "Y'all hear me, Cletus? Enos?”

“But Ginny,” shouts back Cletus.

“No, Cletus,” Ginny barks back at them.  “You and Enos leave him be."

The Kentucky Redneck Mafia hesitates, then slowly backs away. They exit the ring through the ropes and walk back towards Ginny on the stage.

Adam tries to call out to her.  He wants so badly to apologize to her for what happened, to beg for forgiveness… but Ginny doesn’t even look at him.  Instead, she quickly exits the stage right behind Cletus and Enos to the back of the arena.

Later that night… Sunny watches medical personnel load Ellis into an idling ambulance at the back of the arena.  She looks to the sky, looking for any guidance on how she can fix this situation.  Then she pulls her cell phone out and dials Bryan Dawkins’ number.

“Bryan, it’s Sunny,” she says, conflicted about what to do. “You’ve got to talk to him."

Sunny pauses,

"Adam," she clarifies.  "You've got to talk to him.   He's been booked against Ivan Stanislav at 58.  He was terrible tonight against Tiger Jackson. If he does that against Stanislav, Ivan will kill Adam… literally.”

Sunny pauses and listens to Bryan’s response.

Sunny angrily speaks into her phone, “Dammit, Bryan. Tiger Jackson is a journeyman wrestler who weighed 200 pounds soaking wet if he was lucky. Ivan Stanislav is at least twice Jackson’s weight. This isn’t a match, it’s a public execution. In Adam's current state of mind and after what Nate Colton did to Stanislav at ReVival 57, Ivan is going to hurt him badly if this match happens.”

In the ambulance, a barely conscious Adam hears the words ringing through his brain.

“If I could start again A million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way”