Shoot 006: I, The Throw Away

"How did we end up here? What happened? Are they rhetorical questions or motivation? That's the part fuckin' me up. I guess I don't gotta tell the world, do I? It gets hard sometimes – no vulgar entendre intended – hard to reconcile who I am versus what I see in the mirror. Do I see a winner? Do I see a guy worthy of bein' called a contender, a champion? I... nope. Don't. It's funny when the thing you do – the thing you usedta love – wants to destroy you."

There's a long pause.

"These days, everyone's got some axe to grind. Everyone's playin' one-upmanship, comparin' scars to see whose're worse like that matters. Damage isn't a definition – it's a by-product of a much worse condition. This point in my career it's not about winnin'. It's not about how many dollars I got in the bank or what shit they're sellin' with my face or my name or some bullshit I said once plastered all over it. I… it's deeper'n that. It's about the integrity, the work ethic. Showing up and givin' my all's gotta be enough – I don't deserve more'n that. I don't wanna make this into somethin' it's not. Ana, I don't know you at all even though I've seen you here an' there. Don't know the first thing about you an' right now, I don't care. No offense, alright? This week, you're a faceless object lesson. A means to an end. I can't lose sight of the big picture. Won't.

I'M STILL HERE.

I'm so damned sick of pickin' up the pieces after it blows apart, y'know? But, this' me. I'm Lex. I fight. I take the blows life gives an' I've gotten up every time, waitin' for this moment when it all came around. Tables turn – chaos theory in action an' my destiny came out so far off what I expected. What did I do? Better to ask what didn't. Didn't walk away. Ignored the warnin'. But you knew I would, didn't you?

Rebellion's everythin', man. Every. Thing.

What happens next? Do I walk away? Do I tape my fists? Do I sit here an' bitch about how sideways it's all gone? Do I prepare myself to go down swingin'? You know my choice. You know who I am, why I never back down. When I go out this time, hell's comin' with me – gonna burn it to the ground. Fuck the questions nobody asked. They don't matter. It's alright. Can still find my feet. One more time's all I need. I got this."

Everything smelled metallic. Blood trickled from his nose, starting to dry into a crimson mask where it coated his cheeks and chin. More dripped down the back of his throat, making him gag as his eyes slammed closed against the onslaught of pain. Rough hands seized his shoulders, shaking him violently. With a startled cry, his eyes snapped open. Black specks buzzed through his vision, pure darkness.

For a few seconds, he legitimately believed he was blind before the darkness faded, slowly. A smell filled his nostrils, bringing alertness more quickly than smelling salts could have. Sour, vaguely medicinal – Wild Turkey mixed with bad breath. He crashed against the wall and then a hand flew from the darkness, smashing into his face. He knew he should've stayed away, but he didn't have anywhere to sleep. It was cold. Raining sideways – the treehouse would've been too exposed. He heard a whistle, realized it was coming from him as he struggled to breathe. Hands around his throat, pressing down. Broken ribs on fire as his body betrayed him, trying to pull in air. "Please," he didn't usually beg. He didn't usually say anything but there was a dance at school and he'd promised he'd take Hannah – the kind that needed him to dress up and look presentable.

Fingers like talons dug into his cheeks, smashing the back of his head against the wall. "Please... what?" Clay's voice was harsh and mocking, bleeding into sadistic laughter. "Go on then. Say your piece, boy."

"No," his tongue felt thick against the roof of his mouth, like it was three sizes too big. He couldn't see straight, Clay's leering face doubling and tripling, reduced to nothing as the red-black specks took over. "Fffff..." the word didn't form, became nothing but a hiss of air he couldn't afford to lose. Lungs burning now, white-hot agony in his sides – the pain was the only thing left as rebellion faded. Provoking the monster would ensure that it hurt more but it would be quicker. He wanted it to end.

He never saw the next one coming as those hands fisted in his shirt. Airborne, he felt the crunch as something drove deep into his ribs and then there was a crash of glass breaking before—

He sat bolt upright, flailing against the sleeping bag, heart racing – he was soaked in sweat even though the air was cool. He could feel it dripping in his ears. "Fuck you." The words came now, the coldness, the unadulterated hate in his voice pulling Jana awake faster than his thrashing had. When she opened her eyes, he was already out of the bag, fumbling with the zipper on the tent. His hands were shaking too much to open it.

"Lex? Baby?" She sat up, confusion in her voice. She could see him, hunched over, looking like he was shivering in the dim light. "Is there... something out there?" He didn't answer and the silence was more frightening than being startled from sleep the way she'd been. "Lex?" She couldn't tell if he was looking at her or not but when he spoke the words chilled her to the bone.

"I killed him."

Jana's eyes widened as she swallowed, slowly reaching out towards him. Her palm touched his cheek – he was burning up. Her heart raced in fear... for him, but not of him.

"Who?"