Question: How does a 6’4 guy keep a 7’0 man from moving?

Answer: I don’t know, I was dazed for most of it.

This shouldn’t be happening.  I could fight back if I tried, I could escape, that’s for sure, but I don’t.  This has been going on for four months now, and yet I’m still here.

Psychologists would say it’s because I don’t know anything else.  That wouldn’t be entirely true.  Yeah, I spent my childhood in much the same way my life is going now- cowering in corners from a madman’s rage.  But there have been moments, few and far between, but they’ve been there, where I’ve seen something better than this.  Riding in the car with Sean after we won the belts for the second time.  Mark taking me for a beer after we had teamed up for a match.  Little stupid things like that.

But back to the present.  I’m lying motionless in the locker room.  You’d think Hunter would think of a more private spot, but apparently he doesn’t need to, because everyone who’s come through here hasn’t noticed my body pressed against the wall.  Or they did, but they didn’t care.  Even Mark never saw me, which I have to say I appreciated.  Humiliating yourself in from of your co-workers is one thing, in front of your brother it’s a whole ‘nother story.

Then again, Paul always did say I wasn’t worthy of being Mark’s brother.  And I’m not.  Mark is everything I’m not- strong, confident, smart, resourceful…I was born to be in his shadow, literally.  When we were little, he was the prize child and I was the illegitimate one, the one locked in the closet when company came over, the one who was told that I would never grow up to be anything.  My mother loved me, but she was the only one who did.  When the fire came that killed them, I was almost happy to see the man who was supposed to be my father die.  Unfortunately, I was just going from one hell to another.

Paul Bearer…he claims he raised me, took care of me after the fire scarred me.  Nope, nosir, that was not the case.  You know why the fire scarred me so badly?  He never took me to the hospital.  I spent a year fighting infections that sprung up in my poorly-healing burns.  I spent the next ten years in a cold, dark basement.  I taught myself everything I know, from the few books I could find.  Paul had little contact with me during that time, only giving me enough food to keep me from starving to death.

And then…my brother ended up in the WWF, and instead of being locked in the dark, I was dragged up to sit in front of the TV and watch him.  That’s when the physical abuse started.  If Paul didn’t like what he saw Mark doing, he would take it out on me, sometimes throwing things, sometimes outright hitting me.  After he noticed the fact that I was starting to gain the same abnormal size as Mark, he set out to teach me to wrestle.  Now I know what you’re thinking, how could chubby little Paul Bearer teach someone to wrestle?  He didn’t, he hired one of his idiot friends to teach me.  The abuse didn’t stop though, it was now doubled because there were two of them.

And then, for awhile, I was free.  Mark, of all the ironic things, contacted Paul and asked him to be a manager.  So with Paul gone, I was by myself.  For years, I had this blessed freedom...Paul was rarely home, and when he was, he was too absorbed in his own business to bother me much.

Until about three years ago that is, when he decided it was time for me to make my big debut against my brother.  I still don’t understand what happened there, what exactly existed between Mark and Paul, but I know that Paul can’t decide which one of us he supports.  And with his constantly going back and forth, my career really hasn’t skyrocketed.  There was, of course, the tag team reign with Sean, but Paul was so busy with Mark and his new friend that he never really thought of using intimidation against me.

Sean was my first real friend, the first person I’ve really trusted…my first love.  He initiated it, promising me he was going to teach me what it was like to feel love instead of pain.  We would sleep in the same bed at night, dressed but still holding each other…but we ran out of time before we could ever get any farther.

And it’s there that the story really ceases to make sense.  Hunter...threatened Sean to get him back into DX.  I don’t know with what, but it worked.  And I went on to fight with Sean to preserve appearances, and I fought with other people, like the Bossman, and then…and then…

And then, one night last August, I heard a soft, sultry voice from behind me.  “I hear you’re pretty good in bed.”

I turned around to see…. Hunter?  “What are you talking about?”

Hunter just grinned.  “That’s what Sean said, at least.”  He leaned against the wall.  “Look, I have a proposition for you.”

I eyed him warily.  I don’t know  if he’s misinformed or just trying to twist me and Sean’s relationship, but I know I don’t like whatever he’s up to.  “What?”

His smile twisted slightly.  “You don’t really seem to be doing much lately…I thought maybe you would want to help me with a little plan of mine…”

You know what?  I just don’t trust Hunter.  I never have, I never will, and that’s why I said, “I don’t think so.  I have plans.  Sorry.”

Next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling.  “Cancel them.” Hunter growled, rubbing his fist.  And that’s where it started.

It started with the hitting, the kind of abuse I was used to…but it spiraled into so much worse.  There was one day…he was pissed at Stephanie, and he came into my hotel room, and… Sean taught me about sex between men, telling me it was a wonderful thing and that if he and I ever got that far, I would love it, that it would make me forget about all the hurt.  He failed to warn me that it hurts like hell, that the feeling of someone on top of you tearing you apart is anything but wonderful.

It may seem funny, weak, stupid to most people…I’m 8 inches taller, 50 pounds heavier, I’m not a weak guy, I should have been able to stop him…but this is what I’m used to.  I’m used to being told I’m worthless, to being hit around…

I don’t want this.  That’s what some people believe, that I put up with Hunter because I’m desperate to have a relationship with someone.  Nothing could be farther from the truth…I would be more than happy never to be involved with anyone ever again.  It’s so much safer that way.

But that’s just idle thinking.  I’m stuck here.  I can’t get away, I have nowhere, nothing…Paul is gone, I have no idea where the hell he is, but it doesn't matter because I have a replacement abuser now.  But yet…it’s worse with Hunter, because after a lifetime of it, I can deal with being knocked around, and there’s only so far your self-esteem can plummet from being screamed at, and I reached that point long ago.  I can handle all of that, it’s the sex that I have a problem with it.  I don’t know…is it rape?  Technically, I’m in a relationship with him, but I don’t want him, don’t want this, don’t want any of it…

But enough with the self-pity and back to the present.  We are supposed to be in the hospital, him and I, we are supposed to be half-dead from our injuries at Armageddon, but Hunter just HAD to come back to see if Mick Foley would retire, and so I had to follow…and of course Hunter got pissed, and seeing as I really was half-dead from Armageddon, I dared to talk back, and that’s how I ended up here on the floor.  I suppose I should start thinking about ways to do something like sit up, but right now…

Oh shit.  Right now, someone is walking in the door…it’s Foley.  He sits down on the bench, drops his head in his hands…then looks up.  His face twists into a sad smile when he notices me.  “You’re supposed to be sleeping in the hospital, not in the locker room.”

I can’t help but smile too, behind my mask…Mick has a unique way of expressing things.  I struggle into a sitting position, which reveals the puddle of blood that was apparently collecting beneath me.  Mick looks surprised.  “Something happen?”

I can’t bring myself to tell him, to let the truth out, so I half-lie with “Me and Hunter got in a fight.”

“You two do that a lot, don’t you?”  I nod, what else is there to say?  He moves down the bench so he’s sitting at the end, facing me.  With him on the bench and me on the floor, we’re almost eye level.  “Why do I get the feeling the fighting is a little one-sided?”

Oh no.  Ohhhh shit this is not good.  I laugh hollowly.  “What are you talking about?”

Mick doesn’t buy into the act.  “How often are you left in a pool of blood after a ‘fight’, Kane?”

I shake my head.  This cannot be happening. Hunter is going to kill me… “If you’re just looking for dirt on Hunter, you won’t get it from me.  Go home, Foley.”

Mick takes a deep breath, then lets it out.  “As the commissioner, I could probably order you to tell me the truth.  I don’t want to have to do that.”

The threat is so absurd I start to laugh.  But laughing hurts, and now I remember being kicked in the ribs, and now I’m wheezing and coughing and then…and then there’s a firm but gentle touch on my back, rubbing in circles, and a soothing whisper in my ear, and I manage to start breathing how I’m supposed to.  I look up, and Mick is sitting next to me, staring at me with this look in his eyes, which is clearly asking me how I intend to explain this one away.  I close my eyes.  I have no answer.

***
Mick brings me back to the hotel that night, lets me use the other bed in his room.  I manage to avoid conversation for most of the night and slip out in the morning.  After that, Thursday night comes very quickly.  I manage to hide from Hunter and the rest of the world.  Mick called me on Wednesday to warn me that he was putting Hunter on suspension for attacking me.  He has some odd notion that given a little time apart, I will come to my senses and ditch him.  He doesn’t understand…it just isn’t that easy.  But there’s not talking him out of his plan, and so I watch as he goes out there and puts Hunter on suspension.  As I stood, watching the television backstage, I felt a hand clench on my shoulder.  My heart plummeted into my stomach.  It was Hunter.

Just as Mick finishes his announcement, an odd sound starts, then the screen goes to…GTV.  And it shows Mick and I in the locker room, our conversation…. all of a sudden, a thousand eyes are on me.  Those who knew Hunter and I were together know now that I let myself get pushed around, those who didn’t know…well now they do.

Mark knows that I’m in a relationship with a guy now.  Oh shit.

But that fear is nothing to the one that springs up when I remembered that Hunter’s still behind me.  I try to turn to face him, but I’m shoved into the wall before I can.  “You told him!” comes the screamed accusation.  My back pressed against the wall, I shook my head violently.  “How’d he fucking know then?  Did you go crying to Foley after Raw?  Couldn’t you just take it like a man?”

As always, I’m scared speechless, trying to press my back into the wall and hide…oh God, I can tell this is not gonna be a good one…he is angrier than I think he’s ever been.  I feel an arm press up into my throat, making it hard to breathe.  “What did you tell him?!” Hunter screams at me.  “What did you tell Foley goddammit?!”

I open my mouth, trying to think of some denial to save me, but…. suddenly the pressure is gone.  I look around…and Chyna, Billy Gunn, and Road Dogg have Hunter held back.  “What the hell are you doing?” I hear Chyna yell.  He’s struggling to break free, but I know my chance when I see it.  I take off down the hallway.

I make it to the parking lot, and only then do I allow myself a chance to breathe.  The last few minutes seemed so unreal…they saved me.  Chyna, Jesse, Billy…I haven’t even talked to them in at least a year and yet…  But there’s not enough time for thinking it over.  I get in my car and drive, just trying to get away from the arena and my life.  Eventually, I remember where I am, that I grew up here, and I drive on instinct to the cemetery.

I get out of the car and just stare.  Paul refused to let me come here, said I should just move on with my life.  I push through the gate and wander down the many pathways until I find what I’m looking for.  My mom’s grave.

I knelt by the small marker.  “Mom?”  My voice echoed through the cool night air and I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter around myself.  “Mom…I miss you.  I would have come here sooner, but I couldn’t get away from Paul.”  I wiped my eyes absently.  “I really wish you were here.  I need you, Mom.”  I bowed my forehead so it touched the cool stone.  My mom had protected me while she was alive, kept me safe from her husband, who could only see me as the bastard child, from Paul, from my brother…

I lifted my head at the low growl of a motor from behind.  I looked around, but there was no one in the cemetery.  And why should there be?  It was midnight, the cemetery was officially closed at this time.  My eyes fell back to the grave in front of me.  It was so plain, just the headstone there…everywhere else there were flowers, wreaths…it was nearly Christmas, the holiday spirit had moved people to visit their deceased relatives, but no one had cared about the mortician and his wife.  I vowed that I would come back soon, bring flowers…my mom deserved something pretty like everyone else…

“Kane?  What the hell are you doin’ here?”  The voice behind me startled me into sitting bolt upright.  I turned to look behind me…and found myself staring up at my brother.

He was in his traditional biker garb, leather jacket and all.  His face was expressionless behind his dark glasses, and for a moment there was dead silence until I finally managed to say, “I didn’t know you came here.”

“Usually, I don’t.  I was looking for you.”

Well now there’s a surprise.  He must’ve heard the news and came to ridicule me.  “Well, you found me.”

Mark silently sat down next to me, knees cracking as he lowered himself to the ground.  There was more silence, as neither of us seemed to have any idea what to say.  “You want me to take Helmsly out?”

Mark’s voice startled me yet again.  Of all the things I had been expecting, that wasn’t it.  I struggled to get my mouth to work right.  “You don’t have to do that,” I managed to whisper.

Mark shrugged, and I could tell this wasn’t much easier for him.  “I want to.”

I stared at him in shock.  I had been waiting for him to call me a pansy, a fag, to beat me up…not to offer to help.  “Why?”  was all I could manage to ask.

“Because you’re my little brother, and I’ve done a piss-poor job of protecting you up until now, and that bastard Helmsly has to pay.”

His words cut through me, to my heart, and I pulled my knees up to my body as my throat got sore.  Whatever I do, I am NOT going to cry  I told myself, hoping it would work.

Oblivious to my emotional state, Mark stood, brushing off his pants.  “Foley’s worried about you.  Can we go now?”

I tried to get up, but I couldn’t seem to summon the energy to stand.  All I could do was sit on the grass, trying to keep the tears back.  Mark stared at me for a moment, then shook his head and reaching down, pulled me up to my feet.  I stumbled against him and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, letting me lean on him as we walked to the parking lot.  “Remind me not to get you drunk, you’re fucking heavy,” I heard him mutter, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

We eventually got to Mark’s car and he shoved me into the passenger seat.  I opened my mouth to tell him that I had drove here myself, but he cut me off.  “We’ll get your car tomorrow, ok?  You don’t seem good to drive right now.”  So I shut up and let him take me back to the hotel.

We got to the hotel, which is when I remembered that I didn’t exactly have a room.  I had forgotten that I needed to get one, I’d gotten so used to having Hunter take care of everything.  He liked that…that control.  Luckily, Mark didn’t even ask if I had my own room, instead steering me to a room on the second floor.  “Commissioner’s orders,” he said, with almost a smile, as he left me there.

Before I could start to really be confused as to why I had been parked in front of someone’s room, the door opened and I was greeted with Mick’s half-panicked face.  As soon as he saw me, I could see relief spread over him.  “Thank God you’re ok,” I heard him mumble.  He gently tugged me into the room and pushed me into sitting on the bed.

Mick grabbed a chair and moved it so that he could sit facing me.  It was then that I saw him deflate, his nervous energy rushing out of him.   “Kane…” he dropped his head into his hands and I instantly thought I had done something wrong, that Foley was going to start to scream and yell…. “I’m so sorry.”

The words stopped my thoughts dead in their tracks.  “For what?” I asked quietly.

Mick looked up at me, and I could see the guilt there.  “For being an absolute idiot today.  I should’ve known Hunter would attack you…” He straightened.  “Did he hurt you?  I mean…”

I nodded.  “I’m fine.  Chyna, Billy, and Jesse…they helped me.”  The reminder of the scene earlier sent a shudder through me.

Mick picked up on it.  “You look like you could use a drink.”

I nodded, what could it hurt?  Mick got up and poured two shot glasses of some sort of alcohol from the mini-bar.  Handing one to me, he smiled sadly.  “Here’s to drinking your pain away.”

***
Many shots later, my pain wasn’t gone…not even close.  It just burned hotter, harder.  Mick didn’t look much better.  “So, you ok?”  he asked, his voice low and melancholy.
I took a deep, shaky breath.  “I guess so.”  The shivering was back, and this time I couldn’t seem to control it.

Mick tilted his head to the side.  “You want to talk about it?”

I was opening my mouth to say no, when I heard my own voice say softly “Why does this always happen to me?”  Oh shit…you can’t take something like that back.  I looked up at the ceiling and continued.  What could it hurt now?  “It’s like…all I ever wanted was to get away from Paul, to get so far away that he could never hurt me again.  And I tried, I tried so hard, and I finally did get free, and then….Hunter came along, and…”  My voice was starting to catch in my throat and I bit down on my lower lip.  “Do I have a sign on me that says ‘kick my ass’?  Why can’t I defend myself?”

I heard and felt, rather than saw, Mick move to sit next to me.  He spoke quietly, “Fear wins out over strength every time.  Doesn’t matter hoe tough you are, once you get scared…”

“Yeah, but why does the fear have to be there?  Haven’t I had enough…enough fear, enough pain…” My voice gave out as the tears started.

I know it’s not easy to hold a 7-foot man, but Mick got it somehow.  My head ended up resting on his shoulder as his arms wrapped as far as they could around me.  He even managed to get a slight rocking motion down.  Of course, I was too busy crying my eyes out to notice any of that.  However, I snapped to attention when I felt a light touch of the back of my head…where the strap of my mask was.  Mick tried to calm me, whispering soothingly, “Calm down, relax…you’ll get a rash if you let tears get caught under your mask.  Believe me, I used to wear one, I know…”

No.  No, I can NOT let this happen.  Mick…I can’t scare him away too with my scars…I weakly whimper “No…no please…”  But Mick kept going, working his fingers under the elastic bands holding my mask on and easing it off.  I buried my face in his shoulder, still crying, but now with the added fear that any second Mick is gonna see me for the disfigured monster I am.

Mick placed two fingers under my chin and lifted.  I was too tired, too drained to resist, and I let my face be eased up.  Now was the moment of truth…I closed my eyes, unable to bear his reaction.

“Are you SURE you’re Kane?”  Mick’s voice was light, almost cheerful, and I had to open my eyes slightly so I could figure out what was going on.  His face was crinkled into a smile.  “Come on, you’re too cute to be so fear-inspiring.”

“What are you talking about?”  Maybe Mick had had more to drink than I thought.

Mick brushed a finger down my face, the touch making me shake…it’s been so long since anyone touched my face… “You just don’t look so scary as you act.  You look innocent…almost like a child…”

His simple words were enough to break me again.  “I can’t escape it…I’m always gonna be the little kid everyone picks on…always the damaged-goods kid…”

Mick held me again.  “No…that’s not what I meant.  I just meant…your scars aren’t so bad.”  And then…the light brush of something against my forehead.  A distant memory of my mom….  I jerked away.  Mick looked at me for a moment, then dropped his gaze.  “I’m sorry…”

I was still in shock…”You kissed me.”

Mick still looked down.  “I don’t know what I was thinking…”

Rational thought was still beyond me.  “No one’s kissed me since my mom died.”  Mick started to reply, but I stopped him.  “Would you do it again?”  The words were out of my mouth before I could think about them, and I blushed deeply.

Mick looked up at me sharply.  “Kane…”

“It’s the burns, isn’t it?”  I whispered.  “It’s ok, I understand…”

Mick shook his head in exasperation.  “No, I told you already, I don’t care about that.  It’s…”  Our eyes met, and I could see something inside of him surrender.  He brought his hands up to cup my face, bringing it down.  Very slowly, he brought his lips toward me, and pressed them to mine before pulling back.  He kept my face in his hands.  “Did you like that?” he asked quietly.

I blinked at him.  “I don’t know.”  Mick’s face fell, and I hurried to continue.  “I mean, no one’s ever kissed me like that before…it’s all new to me…”

Mick brought his lips to my face again, but this time to my cheek.  He seemed to be trying to kiss everywhere on my face, and I finally realized what he was doing.  He was kissing my tears away.  I was unsure whether to laugh or choke up in tears.  I settled for whispering “Ok…I definitely like this.”

Mick laughed.  “I’m glad.  I never thought at 35 I would be able to give someone their first kiss.”

I smiled back.  It felt odd, to feel the muscles contract and not feel the mask over my skin.  “Am I really not that ugly?”  I had to ask, to make sure…

“You’re beautiful.”  Mick’s voice was half-teasing, but I heard the note of caring behind it.  He took a deep breath and looked up at me.  “You wanna do something sometime?”

Ok, let me get this straight, is Mick Foley asking me out?  “Uhm…I guess so….”

“You don’t have to say yes…” Mick sounded sad, and I remembered all at once that he was not all that much unlike me, that he too had felt the pain of isolation and self-hatred.

I swallowed.  “I really want to do something with you.  I…want you to be my friend.”

“I want to be your friend too.”  Mick smiled gently.  “I want to show you that there’s something beyond the pain.”

I ducked my head.  “Sean said that too…never happened.”

Mick’s voice was rough.  “I’m not Sean.  I can’t be him.”

I leaned against him.  “I don’t need Sean.  I need someone who can figure out how to get this hell to end.”

Mick kissed the top of my head.  “I promise to try.  Whatever happens…I will do anything I can to keep you from going through the pain again.”

Even with all the times the dream hasn’t come true, I find myself believing him.
 

Fixxer

Dolls of voodoo all stuck with pins
One for each of us and our sins
So you lay us in a line
Push your pins they make us humble
Only you can tell in time
If we fall or merely stumble

But tell me
Can you heal what father's done?
Or fix this hole in mother's son?
Can you heal the broken worlds within?
Can you strip away so we may start again?
Tell me
Can you heal what father's done?
Or cut this rope and let us run?
Just when all seems fine
And I'm pain free
You jab another pin
Jab another pin in me

Mirror, mirror upon the wall
Break the spell or become the doll
See you sharpening the pins
So the holes will remind us
We're just the toys in the hands of another
And in time, the needles turn from shine to rust

But tell me
Can you heal what father's done?
Or fix this hole in mother's son?
Can you heal the broken worlds within?
Can you strip away so we may start again?
Tell me
Can you heal what father's done?
Or cut this rope and let us run?
Just when all seems fine
And I'm pain free
You jab another pin
Jab another pin in me
Jab it

Here come the pins

Blood for face
Sweat for dirt
Three X's for the stone
To break this curse
A ritual's due
I believe I'm not alone
Shell of shotgun
Pint of gin
Numb us up to shield the pins
Renew our faith
Which way we can
To fall in love with life again
To fall in love with life again
To fall in love with life again
To fall in love
To fall in love
To fall in love with life again

So tell me
Can you heal what father's done?
Or fix this hole in mother's son?
Can you heal the broken worlds within?
Can you strip away so we may start again?
Tell me
Can you heal what father's done?
Or cut this rope and let us run?
Just when all seems fine
And I'm pain free
You jab another pin
Jab another pin in me

No more pins in me
No more, no more pins in me
No more, no more pins in me
No more, no more, no more
No, no, no