FINISH THE STOR

“My name is Jonathan-Christopher and I am addicted to meth.”

“Hello, Jonathan-Christopher.”

He’s a regular attendee. A few minutes outside downtown New Orleans, in the local gymnasium, where a collection of lost souls gather to lean on each other. Over the next two hours, the group will spill their deepest internal struggles. This goes beyond addiction; quitting is not simple. Wants are needs. It’s a physiological dependency, beyond the psychological. “Get over it”, “do something else”, or “just stop already”.

If it was only that easy.

That’s why these sessions exist. For a release. A means of therapy, of real support. The people who sit inside this circle, they get it, of course they do. They live with the struggle. It consumes them. What was once a small obstacle has become a lifelong, hellacious journey.

For Jonathan-Christopher? There’s a deeper meaning.

“I promote my situation,” he raises his gaze off the floor. “Meth is good. You say it’s bad but I say it’s good. It provides meaning, it gives me direction. I was wasting my life beforehand. I had nothing.”

It took him a while to feel comfortable in front of this crowd. The first few sessions, he’d only introduce himself.

“I hear the chatter. ‘Meth doesn’t care like I care’, or ‘love like I love’. I ask the ones who judge me to look within your own lives first and tell me if there is someone, or something, that doesn’t give you what you’re looking for and yet you still keep going.”

Dora sits to his left. She’s always the one encouraging Jonathan-Christopher to contribute as openly and honestly as possible. Today, in particular, Jonathan-Christopher speaks with a hint of additional confidence and emphasis. She never had to encourage him. She watches and listens. Proudly and supportively.

“I will always use meth. Meth is the reason I’ve achieved. Gone faster and further than I ever thought was possible.”

Jonathan-Christopher meets eyes with the bald-headed, baggy-eyed man to his right.

“Meth is the greatest! It’s not an addiction. I can function on a daily basis. Live pain free. I have never won more. All because of meth.”

He meets eyes with the slender, red haired woman on his left.

“I came from an upbringing that didn’t want me. I received nothing from the ones who were supposed to unconditionally love. I was lost. Drifting. Weaving in and out of each day at a young age, knowing it is my fault for simply existing.”

He closes his eyes.

“Meth unlocked everything I never thought I deserved.”

Hall’s eyes remain closed, although his pupils move from left to right, right to left, as he continues to dig deeper within his subconscious.

“Yes, I love meth. And meth loves me.”

His eyes open, as if he is in the process of waking up.

“But if all of this is true… and trust me, it is, then why am I here? Why do I stand in front of this group which is meant to be an intervention for meth?”

He looks around the room.

“Why?”

Another glance around the room. His facial expression begs for an answer.

“Why?”

He pauses. His gaze fall to the floor, where it first resided.

“Thank you.”

The group claps as Jonathan-Christopher takes his seat. Dora leans over, patting him on the back as he nods his head solemnly.

— — — — — FINISH THE STOR A true love stor An honest friendship Where we explore the 5 Ws of stor telling — — — — —

November 24, 2002

It’s repetitive. He’s six-years-old and it’s all he’s ever known.

Silence. Apathy. Boredom.

Grade 1. Three months in. New school, teacher and classmates. He already knows he doesn’t belong.

Nothingness.

At least he’s stopped waiting at the windowsill. Stopped crying, too. For the past three weekends he’s wasted away in his bedroom. He has made friends, albeit not real ones. These live inside his head. He’s starting to learn they have specific character traits. At the moment one of these friends is sad. His name is Billy and Billy keeps thinking it’s his fault they don’t have fun.

But it’s not Billy’s fault. The boy knows this; Billy doesn’t.

Time peels like paint in the Hall home, mercilessly ticking down, or ticking backwards, as it feels like the days and hours blend together.

He can’t take it anymore. Honestly, he doesn’t know better. He creeps into the living room and sees her laying there on the ratty brown sofa. It’s her typical spot for whenever she’s home. She hasn’t been home much, if at all, but at least no one else is visiting. Not her mean looking friends. Not the other men who took the boy away and asked him super hard questions.

Plus his daddy isn’t real.

Can’t be true.

Won’t be.

The boy carefully navigates through the empty bottles, cigarette butts and two strange glass tubes. He sees her eyes are closed but breathing rather heavily. Rapidly. Forcefully.

He should know better, he really should.

It’s like watching in third person from across the room. He knows this is going to end poorly. Why can’t he stop himself from walking in her direction?

“Mom,” he squeaks out with an awfully low and tentative whisper. “Can you hear me, mom?”

Eyes shut, body stiff, she offers no ability to comprehend.

“Mommy,” he raises his voice, if only a little. He scans her from head to toe. She looks rather pale.

“Mommy, can you hear me?” As if he’s never said these words. Why does the six-year-old think this time is going to be different?

Maybe he doesn’t.

Maybe he’s that desperate for interaction.

“Mommy…”

She readjusts herself.

There is hope!

Her eyelids open but it sure is a struggle. It takes a moment for her pupils to roll towards the front of her face. She scans her surroundings, eventually finding her son hovering over her.

“Go away,” she begins, while clearing her throat. “Don’t you have kid things to do?”

But he doesn’t have kid things, mommy, Billy says inside the boy’s head.

Her eyelids close, much faster than they opened. She breathes louder this time, falling into a state of rest and recovery. Her forehead sweats. Her cheeks are practically yellow. The boy races into the hall, accidentally tripping over a bottle in the process and then praying to god it didn’t fully wake her.

Free from the living room, he sprints up the stairs, scolding himself for being foolish and silly.

He scurries into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He dives onto his bed. He buries his head in-between his pillows and prays nothing further develops. Tears roll down his cheeks.

WHAM!

He starts hitting a pillow wildly. He can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t know what else to say, or think, or do.

His heart is pounding. He assumes any second now his bedroom door will be knocked down and he will receive another scolding. He looks at his knapsack, typically packed for school but he empties it. He grabs a few pairs of clothes and throws them inside.

It’s not that he wants to. It’s that he has to.

He pushes off his bed, steps on the floor and takes the handle of his backpack.

If she didn’t hear him previously, she definitely won’t hear him leave.

Billy thinks this is a good idea.

The second he flees the bedroom, there’s no turning back. Although he can’t help wondering…

Where on earth will he go? 

— — — — —

Hall Penthouse Suite Las Vegas, NV November 19, 2023 04:10

Their first night back from Nashville, it is divine to be on top of the world!

Vickie is tucked into the left side of the bed, taking the majority of the blankets. Well, okay, she’s taking all of the blankets. But that’s how she sleeps. Slowly but surely throughout the night, additional blanket width will seep into her gentle arms and be carefully wrapped around her body, unable to be retrieved. They’ll laugh about it in the morning. Oh, ha ha ha, they will. How she, so warm and cozy and how he, so trembly and freezing. She doesn’t know how it happens. Heck, he doesn’t know, either.

He just knows she feels secure. That’s the bottom line.

“JARRY!”

Suddenly, the question of security is exactly that, a question. Jonathan-Christopher shoots upright in a jiffy. He spins his head to the left, cocks his head to the right and rubs his face frantically to do away with the sleepy crust as he calibrates to the urgent surroundings.

“NO, AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

She cries. She SCREAMS! Jonathan-Christopher witnesses his Amazing Life Partner going through the motions of another nightmare. This torture, it’s reappeared.

Trauma. No doubt. Poor Vickie, Jonathan-Christopher has tried to ease her tender mind. Usually, he can.

But everyone knows what’s coming next Friday.

“JJJJAAAARRRRYYYY, NOOOOO! PLEASE STOP!!”

He tries to shake her. He tries to snap his fingers directly in front of her face. Both of which have done the trick in other scenarios.

“NOT THE CHO-CO-LATE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!”

The shrill. The shaking. The horror! She is absolutely drenched in sweat.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” He holds her tightly as he rocks them back and forth, resting her head against his pectorals.

She’s still shaking but at least she’s stopped screaming.

For now.

— — — — —

REAL RESULTS Fitness Las Vegas, NV November 19, 2023 07:04

He was running late.

Tired and late.

Fresh off a third round victory in the Almasy Tournament, this is unprecedented waters. It was unprecedented after round one but now it’s getting into the “titty gritty” as Vickie says.

Vickie has a lot of funny sayings. Jonathan-Christopher laughs at them, even the ones he doesn’t find hilarious. Needless to say, JCH is out of breath already as he approaches the front of the REAL RESULTS doors. Dan Celetti stands, with a smile on his face, hands on his hips and sarcastically tapping his foot.

“My man,” he says, offering his arm for a brotherly handshake pull-in-and-hug, “you’re becoming quite the celebrity! Almost thought you weren’t going to show.”

Truth is Jonathan-Christopher had to cancel yesterday. Filming the ESPN 30For30 is much more exhausting than he could’ve imagined! So much to do, it’s over stimulation! Don’t get Jonathan-Christopher wrong, it’s not an awful spot to be in. Vickie is thrilled, she is beyond the moon! And he has a schedule which makes him feel alive.

“Sorry,” Hall tries to catch his breath as he glances down at Celetti’s purple gym bag. Vickie doesn’t enjoy the colour purple, she thinks it takes away from the most godly shade in the world! Granted, Hall isn’t going to tell another man how to live. “The spotlight is tough.”

Celetti shakes his head as if it’s no bother. “Yeah, brother. Let’s get this workout in. You’re on a roll!”

A roll. Kinda, yeah. Potentially. Make no mistake, JCH pinned those men. He was, however, rather overmatched against Kerry.

“You know I did cheat to win…”

Celetti pats Hall hard against the shoulder, as if to knock that thought out of his mind.

“Still pinned him. His finisher didn’t keep you down. You should be proud of your accomplishments!”

“I guess-”

Before Jonathan-Christopher can end his sentence, he hears a loud shriek in the distance. Glancing to his right, a blurry Vickie Hall is in a PRETTY PINK© rush, making her way through the parking lot. Did she walk here? Worse, did she run?

Hall feels déjà vu.

“Jonathan-Christopher, oh Jonathan-Christopher!” She beckons, winded as she arrives in front of them. Standing on her tippy toes, the tiny little girl with the wild blonde hair rests her right arm against Jonathan-Christopher’s shoulder.

She gasps for oxygen, the silence allowing Celetti the space to survey the situation. He looks down at Vickie and then over to his workout partner. He knows where this is going, it happened to them last week, three times, as he recalls. Dan sulks against the side of the gym.

“Jonathan-” she sucks in a big breath. “Jonathan-Christopher. I- I need you at our place for ESPN!”

There’s a thorough reason Jonathan-Christopher resorted to cheating against Kerry Kuroyama. He wasn’t as prepared as required. He knows, for Jared, he HAS TO be equipped.

Hall rubs his right hand against Vickie’s palm. The warmth on his face spreads. He hugs her.

“Awww honey,” JC starts, although his eyes can’t help but see a rather dejected work out partner in his peripherals. “I thought you said they weren’t filming until this afternoon?”

“Oh,” she rebuts, almost before Jonathan-Christopher can finish his sentence. “They aren’t but we should game plan nonetheless!”

She releases the hug first by dropping her arms and taking a small step back.

“Your man was hoping to get a workout in,” Celetti interjects. He tries to laugh off the comment.

Vickie, however, did not receive it as passiveness. Her entire body moves towards Celetti and her demeanor shifts on a dime. No longer the compassionate, comforting woman she was moments ago, now she projects a stern, rigid disposition.

“Jonathan-Christopher will get his workouts in,” period.

Guiding her attention at her Amazing Life Partner, her body loosens, her shoulders drop and her chin starts to nestle into her neck.

“But I’m not feeling confident about our preparation…”

Her voice trails. Ends. Finishes.

Jonathan-Christopher can’t help but blush.

“Honey, I could work out for thirty minutes and then-”

He has to stop speaking. He sees she’s starting to shake. It’s the anxiety! It’s hit her hard. It’s hit him, too, but he’s channeling it better. Inside the ring he is wrestling as desperately as anyone else.

And he is winning.

“I came all this way,” she adds.

“Okay,” he replies while her face blossoms and her chin projects outwards.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Jonathan-Christopher mentions to his workout partner. “I have to be with my love. The documentary is vital to her story.”

“No worries bro,” Celetti quickly responds, peeling himself off the wall while displaying unwavering support. “I’ll be here every morning. Show up when you can.”

When?

Jonathan-Christopher can’t help but wonder when he will be back. Winning is good, winning is great, winning is paramount!

…Sadly, it is coming at a cost.

“He’ll show up when he can,” Vickie snaps, offering her right hand to Jonathan-Christopher and the two merrily make their way to which she came.

“Thank goodness you drove,” she sighs in relief. “It was such a far jog and my dainty little legs are sore.”

— — — — —

You.

From day one it has always been you.

Jared Sykes.

I hear, I listen, and most importantly, I recall. You have trauma. Opened wounds. Been through the wringer. To hell and back. It’s all extremely overwhelming.

Let me tell you something, Jared.

Nothing gets chocolate out.

From the moment you spilled a vat of delicious goo on my Amazing Life Partner, you have been the posttraumatic stress disorder we’ve been trying to cleanse from our palate. From the very second your pathetic humor dribbled into this company, as the fucking goof you were, with the stupid fruity alias and bullshit fraud of a relationship, Vickie has diagnosed you as the covert narcissist you truly represent.

So self-indulgent you can’t hear. So ruthless you can’t see. So egotistical you can’t begin to fathom.

You surround yourself with those who enable you to dive into this sense of shame and guilt. You want to be the hero who overcomes. The cheers. The fans. The friends. The adorable blogging girl with the high school crush.

It’s all ridiculously superficial.

They’ll run from you, Jared. They. Will. Run. From. YOU. Once exposed to who you really are, they’ll be gone ASAP.

Come Friday, Vickie is going to bring a whole new character arc to your disposition. It’s the one where PRIME… its fans, its roster and beyond know exactly who they’re looking at.

A selfish, gutless prick, who always takes and never understands. There are repercussions for your actions, Jared. It’s time you finally meet them.

Maybe the poor relationship you had with your father was distinctly because of you. Ever think of this perspective? Vickie says narcissists can’t take ownership or responsibility for their actions. That’s why we never did get an apology for what you’ve done to us.

Go ahead, roll the archives. ReVival number three. I’m the one who’s apologizing for your terrible actions.

Specifically to her. My love. My dreamboat.

I will never apologize for your behaviors again.

In fact, I want to go beyond what Vickie says. Vickie says a lot of vital things. Vickie guides me to be the best wrestler I can. She has unlocked a world I didn’t know existed.

But it’s time I did my own talking, too.

Patterson. Bolamba. Kuroyama. With due respect to the first two names, the last one is terrifying. Members of Vae Victis should keep this roster up at night with their own detrimental PTSD.

Yet I stopped one. Tossed him off a cliff.

Get your parachute ready.

Jared, I respect you as a wrestler. I’d be crazy not to. A mighty fine record you have accumulated but it doesn’t mean I forget and it definitely doesn’t mean you go unpunished.

I am doing this tournament for Vickie. The trauma you gave her was painful, it was completely unfair.

Yet for the first time in my life, I’m also doing it for myself. I deserve to see progress. I have worked hard. Institutionalized. Devastated. Throttled. The first man booted from Survivor. A round one tournament exit, the inaugural one at that.

Told I’m not good enough. Laughed in my face.

I refuse to run away. Not this time. JCH stays put.

Endures and delivers. I will not accept defeat. I hammer the nail into the coffin.

Can you hear me, Jared? It’s me, Jonathan-Christopher.

I would hope you hear me loud and clear. I’ve already made a lot of noise in this tournament. You will see who I have become on Friday. Let the bracket go BOOM.

Oh wait, it already has.

— — — — —

Epilogue

Vickie Hall’s iPhone 15 Pro DADDY CAKES DADDY CAKES BAKER’S MAN iMessage 11/19/23 06:26am

DADDDYYYYYYYYYYYYY- DADDYYYY WEAR R U?-

-Honey! -Hi! -Right here! -Sorry I missed your calls! -Wow 17 times! What’s happening pumpkin!?

daddyyyy gosh golly- NXT time anwser faster its emergency!-

-What’s up honey!?

its jonathan-christopher- hes starting 2 think 4 himselffffffffff- danger danger- last wk he interupted my promo did u no see on TV?-

-Yes love, I’m watching! -I didn’t think it was THAT strange! -He still adores you!

DADDDDY well hes Thinking more & i don’t like it daddy do somethingggg- give me ideas mr, Ideas Man!!!!!- like winning is gud obvi want 2 win and fuk jared skypes but gotta keep mi boi in my cage daddy lol-

-Hey did you know that apparently the word “Daddy” has been sexualized a lot with your generation!?

EWWWWW DUCKING GROSS DADDY UR MY DADDY THATS DUSGUSTING!-

-Sorry I saw it on TikTok! -Thought it was funny!

daddy WTF r u doing on tiktoK?- i need u jonathan-chriustoipher is thinking for himself & I dont like it dammit!-

-Okay! -Easy honey! -Let’s chill! -I’ll be on the next flight over, okay!?

ok-

-Until then keep doing the same stuff you’re doing, alright!?

ok-

-Love you princess! See you soon!?

ok- but like hurrrrrrry- gotta real him in lol- need m halmark moment w/ me front & centre- best manager EEVVVVVRRRRRRRR- we r so close-

-You have some awfully big boys on that roster! -Damn they slap hard!

daddy JFC stop texting & book ur flight let me no when u do-

-Noted my snuggly bear! -I’ll check for cheap flights!

aaaaahhhhhh dont be cheap u r rich- we r rich!- cud buy PRIME if wanted- cud buy other fedssss- well maybe not all other feds. some pukey soft LOL- w/e just get here!-

-Love you Vic!

luv u too daddy-

— — — — —

Epilogue on an Epilogue

Hall Penthouse Suite Las Vegas, NV November 19, 2023 04:37

He’s been rocking her back and forth for so long, she’s stopped screaming and fallen into the pleasant realm of her dreams.

He carefully lowers her onto a pillow. He ensures the entirety of the blankets have been tucked around her body. Now she can drift into the safety and comfort of her slumber, knowing the nightmares have temporarily subsided.

And he, glassy-eyed and exhausted, collapses on his side of the bed, staring straight into the ceiling, trying to calm his own thoughts and channel that energy into a proper night’s rest.

But on her side of the mattress, her head is tilted away and her eyes are actually wide open.

She’s sporting a devilish, purposeful grin.

What is she planning?

What is she planning, indeed.