Kesha played over the Jeep Wrangler’s sound system. From the back seat on, Abby’s belongings filled every cubic inch of the truck. At least, it’s crammed full with all the belongings she believed to be important in her hasty exit from home. She abandoned the rest. Connor, on the other hand, only brought a black duffle bag filled with a few fresh pairs of clothes and some other personal effects. When they left San Diego’s city limits, they both cheery and excited. A whole new world waited for them, one where they could be together without any obstacles, namely his father! Abby bounced up and down in the driver seat, sang, and danced to the journey’s soundtrack, giddy as a schoolgirl infatuated over the class jock. Connor enjoyed watching her. His mother used to act the same way on long car rides. She repeatedly reached over, tugged on his sleeve, jerking him forward for a passionate kiss.
The further down the highway they went, the more her disposition turned however.
First, she stopped singing even though some of her favorite songs came up on the playlist. Then her physical flirtation became rarer and rarer, less aggressive and more hesitant. Finally, even her tugs became frail. Then those stopped in its entirety, leaving Abby muttering to herself underneath the music and her eyes glued on the road. Beads of sweat ran through her face’s crevices, despite the air-conditioning being on full blast. By this point, they had entered the Mojave, a barren wasteland surrounded them in every direction. A merciless sun hanging high in the empty blue skies brightened the landscape. Connor began fidgeting, his knee bouncing up and down, the soft hammering of his fist onto his thigh, and finally, the chewing of his bottom lips. He understood something was off. He tried so hard to ignore that growing tension in the cab. She veered off the road, the Jeep violently shaking until the breaks brought the vehicle to a complete stop. Then he could not ignore any longer. Twenty yards further down the road, a ‘Welcome to Nevada’ sign greeted them.
“We can’t be doing this,” Abby talked but refused to look at Connor while doing so. Her hands remained clutching the steering wheel at two and ten o’clock. She decided, “I’m turning around. I’m taking you back to San Diego.”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to pull back on that road, and we’re going to Vegas, stop there for the night before deciding where we go next.” Connor reached out, placed his hand on her shoulder. He squeezed. He hoped her touch would relieve of this pain that was strangling his entire being. “What is this?! Abby, this is our chance to finally be together! Nothing is holding us back! Nothing is in our way! We are going to start a new life together!”
“I know! I know! Connor, I want nothing more than to be with you. I love you! I love you so damn much! But let’s be realistic, they won’t stop looking for us. They’ll hunt us down. Eventually, we’ll slip up, they’ll take you away and I’ll never see the light of day!” Abby cried. Her voice strained with the high notes, cracking painfully. Tears appeared on either side of her pudgy cheeks, meshing with the stream of sweat. Connor stared at her. She did not look beautiful, she looked completely wretched at that moment.
“This is bullshit! BULLSHIT!” Connor roared. Panic seized him. He whipped off his seatbelt, booted the car door with a loud thud. He opened, escaped out into the bastard heat, then slammed the door shut. He marched out into the desert. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She wanted to abandon him with his father! Another woman who claimed they loved him more than anything else in existence, leaving him out to dry! His mother grew cold to him. This was more of the same! You really can’t trust women, can you? They were all lying whores!
“Connor! Wait!” Abby called out after him. She came jogging around the Jeep, throwing her body forward, started to chase him out into the desert. She tripped over a few shrubs in the path but managed to catch up. At this point, they came to a huge lone boulder in the middle of the flatland. Connor rounded the boulder to the backside, he stopped. The heat worsened his temperament. He felt as if he stepped into a man-size hand drier, an oven! His rage and pain pulsated, wickedly mixing a devastating blend of emotions and heat. He became a pressure cooker, becoming overwhelmed by all the many racing thoughts and impulses bombarded his senses. Too much noise in his head. Too many voices tell him to try that or act that out or believe that! He couldn’t think!
She came up to him. “You know I would love nothing more than to keep going. But the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced we’re… we’re just fooling ourselves!”
“Fooling ourselves? Admit it! You don’t want to be with me.”
“Of course not! That’s not the case at all! I wouldn’t have drove you out here as some prank!”
“Things get hard, you are abandoning me! Fuck you! I love you! I fucking love you! This is how you repay me?”
“And I love you!”
“No, you don’t!” She reached forward to grab his arm, but he responded by thrusting his hand forward, catching her neck in his hand. Connor tightened his hold. All affection vanished in her eyes, replaced by terror. She feared him now, forgetting about whatever love she felt. That look, reminded him of his mother, that way she used to say she loved him but always bore a troubled look when saying so. She was his mother. She was trying to abandon him too.
“Pl- please. Connor… I can’t breathe—,” Abby struggled to formulate words. Her voice came out as a soft squeak. Connor held on as her legs gave out, her body collapsing underneath its own weight while she lost consciousness. Finally, he let go, allowing her body to drop to the ground. Yes, in the end, she left him too. A primal cry erupted from deep within Connor. He hammered his fists down upon the boulder before him.
No. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. Connor stared at her lifeless body, shaking now. He knelt and lifted Abby into his arms. A torrent of emotions washed over him, he started rock her back and forth, tears welling in his eyes. “Abby… Abby! Wake up! Wake up! I’m sorry! Forgive me! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
Abby didn’t wake. Connor lost track of time. He felt his body be pulled in two opposite direction. One moment, he turned to drag her to the Jeep to bring her to a hospital. There was still time! The other started to toss the body back down onto the ground. Eventually, after repeating the same cycle of indecision, Connor got a hold of himself. He gently laid her down against the ground. He placed her hair over his face, the would-be coroner’s white sheet. He wiped away the rest of the tears. She really did leave him. Abby had abandoned him. He clung onto his rage. She abandoned him! This was why you could never trust women. They made promises they never sought to keep. They swore oaths that always broke. They said they would protect you, take care of you, but then eventually they leave! Abby deserved death for her betrayal, just like his mother did. They betrayed him.
What did you do to traitors? You execute them.
He undid his belt buckle, lowered his pants. He pissed on the rock beside Abby, formulating his next step. He would move on without her. He had to. After he was finished, he stepped out from the boulder and started towards the jeep. His heart dropped when he saw a car parked only a few feet behind the Jeep. An old man hobbled out from around the side of the Jeep. “Is everything okay? You have car problems?”
“What? No! No! No… I just had to take a leak,” Connor managed. Keep it cool, kid. Keep it cool. Please go away, old man. Please leave me be. Connor forced a smile on his face. He circled around the backside of the Jeep while the old man’s nodded. He returned to his car, waved before turning back onto the highway. Connor hurried to the driver’s seat. He repositioned the seat to better suit his frame, but he sunk down. Blissful relief washed over him, thankful the man didn’t probe any deeper. Hey man, I killed my girlfriend, dumped her body behind that rock right over there. No big deal! Connor erupted in laughter. He ascertained his life was nothing but a bad joke, the punchline was how every cunt betrayed him in the end. His eyes fixated on the ‘Welcome to Nevada’ sign. They could have had everything, and she tossed it away.
No, he would move on alone. He would think of Abby no more.
On the moonless night, a seemingly endless shroud cloaked the desert and the lonely highway that dissected the Mojave. Only the headlights, full high beams, piercing out but even those seemed meager compared to the vastness. The only other lights were faded specks of stars from another lifetime. Xander finally found the place, the navy-blue sign greeted him, welcoming him to Nevada. Xander turned off the road, parked his truck. Behind him a muscle car roared by, some Los Angeles hotshot no bet, making a midnight run out to Vegas to enjoy some gambling and some whores. Xander left everything in the bed of the truck, just in case. The only thing he took with him was his lantern. The land seemed to be going on forever, completely flat. He started trudging, performing circuits, zigzagging back and forth from the road out thirty yards. He cringed every time a car drove by. No one bothered stopping. Maybe the idea of meeting a six-foot ten, three-hundred-pounder in the middle of the desert didn’t sound safe. Constantly, he found himself cursing, wondering aloud if he had been led on one wild’s goose chase, some sick joke told by his son. After several hours of back and forth, he returned to his truck. He helped himself to the big jug of water in the passenger side. He decided he needed to take a short break, heading over to a boulder twenty yards or so back. He threw his belongings up on top of the rock, before pulling himself up, lifting his entire body weight was never an easy task for a man his size. He brought the jug of water to his lips, wondered if Connor really had it in him to take a life.
Didn’t they love each other? Then again, Xander loved his mother, but that didn’t stop his hands from wrapping around her throat. Maybe being a witness to his abuse towards his mother, maybe he perverted the meaning of love for the kid. Fuck it, he was no psychologist. Why bother trying? To him, nothing made sense.
He reclined backward, resting hands behind his head to provide support. The desert might be warm, but compared to the daytime, this was cold by comparison. He still felt the summer heat, warmth kept over within the rock from its day spent baking in the sun. He nodded off. Quickly leaped into an upright position when he heard the coyotes’ calling. They chirped rapidly, then barreled out a loud howl, which echoed out into the emptiness. They were close. A whole pack of them. Xander accidentally kicked his lantern, while leaning forward, trying to see in the dark. He hopped off, hurrying to bring the light up to ensure they were as close as he thought.
At this time, his phone rang. He got reception out here. He remembered how they located her abandoned Jeep through cellular triangulation or whatever they called it. If she had brought her phone out of the car with her, maybe she would have been found already. Xander peered again, reaching down and throwing a rock in the direction of the coyotes. He didn’t hear any shuffling or response from the throw. Then again, he had an issue hearing over the vibration of his phone in his pants pocket.
“McGowan?”
“It’s Sophia. I’ve been trying— of you— all night.” Static repeatedly interrupted the attorney’s voice.
“Let me see if I can get any better reception.” Xander continued to walk forward, fearless of coyotes or anything else that was sneaking about in the darkness.
“Where—William’s not— mindset,” she continued to try, but Xander found the interference to be frustrating. He tried to piece together her statement; he had to guess that she too recognized that something wasn’t right with McGowan.
“He’s definitely acting weird, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t look— stay— I repeat— body.” Xander wondered if it was the interference that made Sophia sound like she’s pleading or if she really was making a case. It didn’t take a genius to make out what she attempted to say. He considered turning back to the truck to turn back for the truck station diner to have a cup of coffee and perhaps a proper phone conversation with the room. Too late now. Xander had gone all this way to find the body, he didn’t plan on turning around. But that was when his foot struck something hard.
“I have to call you back.”
“Valentine—”
Xander ended the call. He lowered himself to see what he had found. A few feet before him laid one sandal. Then past that, the other sandal. This had turned into a trail of clues, one that probably laid him to a body.
Abby opened her eyes; oh, how they burned. Everything burned. Her raw throat, her insides of her mouth, her entire body felt on fire. What was she? Had she gone to hell? Everything appeared white. Her vision shot. Why was she here? Where was here? Her skin tightened across her entire frame, hot and dry to the touch. She threw herself over onto her belly. Her stomach turned violently, wanting to empty out. She swore she heard her heart pounding from her chest. Her head throbbed. She crawled forward, her arms scrapping against gravel.
She heard a voice. “Abby… Abigail, honey, come say hello to your dad!”
“Dad?” Abby called out. No, that wasn’t right. He had passed away when she was thirteen. But when the voice called out again, repeating the same sentence, that seemed to be his voice. Had she died and gone to heaven then? She thought heaven wasn’t supposed to hurt. She had to go to him, had to greet him. Maybe then she wouldn’t hurt. She found her feet, but a few strides forward, she came crashing down again. Something bit her knees. She proceeded further on her hands and knees. “I’m coming, dad! I’m coming. Wait for me!”
She couldn’t breathe. She needed to breathe. God let her breathe. Regardless, she fought through the overwhelming pain, continued forward towards the light. She kicked off her sandal. First her right, then her left. She again attempted to find her feet, teetering back and forth, as if she walked on a tight rope. Again, she fell, this time she braced herself for her face to meet the hard ground, but that never came. Instead, fell onto a mattress. Not numbness, but the sensation of embrace. She arrived. Her father’s comforting embrace drove away all the fear and cured all the pain. She held onto him, closing her eyes, inviting eternal darkness, her consciousness fading to merciful black.
Xander heard the pitter-patter of small paws beating across the desert floor as he came closer. Not feeling like bare fists would be enough to fend off an entire pack of wild animals, he returned to the truck, ventured back out in the same direction, but this time armed with a shovel. The coyotes yelped manically as he approached, lantern out in front in one arm, the shovel placed over his opposite shoulder. They seemed to avoid him and the light, always keeping to the edge of his vision. That was when he first came onto the body, or at least the remnants of said body. The arm came first, torn from the socket, a mix of burnt sundried flesh and bare bone. Another ten feet further, he heard the coyotes growing distance, having been scared off, and that was where he found the main bulk of the weathered corpse. The summer dress she always adored to wear were torn to shreds. It had served as little protection against the scavengers, the coyotes during the night and the vultures during the day. Mostly her bones remained, making the few chunks of meat rancid and dried out.
Shit. There she was. Nature didn’t care about funeral rites or respecting the dead, Xander supposed. No, they feasted upon her. He found himself sitting before his son’s handiwork. How would they ever know it’s her? They would have to resort to her dental records probably. At least, she rested on the Californian side of the border. McGowan would be happy. But what should he do now? Call it in to the police? Should he pretend he never found the body, hope the nature took care of the rest? He didn’t exactly come out here with a solid plan now that he thought of that. He also started to wonder how a normal person would react to discovering a body. This wasn’t the first time he discovered a corpse, but he never felt the same dread and disgust so many people described to having in similar circumstances. She was dead. He was not. He found solace in that difference.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Again, it was Sophia. The defense attorney immediately questioned, “Did you hear anything of what I said earlier?”
No static this time. Amazing what a few yards could do to cellular reception. “I found the body. It looks like some animals had themselves a buffet. Should I call the police?”
“Damn it, I thought I told you not to go looking for the body.”
“Too late. I was already out here,” Xander stopped for a moment, rubbing his chin as he continued to stare onto the corpse. He wondered if she died painlessly. “I guess this really means he did it. Connor really did kill the bitch. Whatever that’s worth.”
“Have you touched the body?”
“No, I’m not stupid. I knew enough to keep my hands away. I didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence of mine being here. Her sandals are the only thing still in good condition. I didn’t touch those either.” Xander labored to his feet, looking out towards the road. Thunder roared in the distance. Rain? He had the urge to get as far away from the body before the freak storm came in and left him slogging in the mud, leaving footprints of size 15s. Either way, if someone stopped now and came to him, he probably will be thrown underneath the bus. The criminal always returned to the scene of the crime, right? “I’m leaving now.”
“You want my advice? Find the oldest hole in the wall rest stop. I’ll text you a number. Use a payphone, call in an anonymous tip. Get the mile marker while you’re at it.”
“Doesn’t this make the prosecution’s job easier? They’d have a body. That’s not what we want if we’re looking to get him off those charges,” Xander argued as he approached his truck. He didn’t know if he really cared whether or not they threw the book at his son. Why would he feel like he delaying the inevitable? He threw the shovel into the back of the truck, hurried into the cab before the skies opened up and soak him. The cellular reception remained strong. “What exactly is our strategy? William’s acting strange in the first place, and this was his fucking idea. He’d be happy to know that she’s on the right side of the state line.”
“As your legal counsel, I have to advise you to do the following: report the body but remain anonymous at all costs to avoid being implicated. That’s the ethical and moral decision to make in this case. We will do our best to defend your son with everything we have. We don’t know if he truly killed her or simply left her out to die in the desert,” Sophia explained, perhaps trying to find some shred of faith to hold onto in the boy she had been tasked to defend. Whatever helps you sleep at night, got it.
“What’d you do if I keep my mouth shut? Isn’t that the natural response for a father, harbor this dark secret if it means securing your son’s future?”
“I will pretend we never had this conversation. I will also second guess my involvement in this case. I might be a lawyer, but even I have a conscience.”
“Okay, I guess the decision ultimately falls to me. Maybe I do want the truth as much as the detectives. If he’s a goddamn murder, he’s a lost cause in my book. There’s no going back from that. There’s no saving him, so why should I even bother keeping you on for defense,” Xander admitted. He shook his head, turning his truck to go the complete other direction.
“As you said, that decision is ultimately yours to take.”
“I’ll figure it out,” Xander ended the call.
He remembered a derelict diner thirty minutes back. As he approached, he didn’t know if he was going to stop or drive on by, but then he parked his truck. In the far back of the diner rested an ancient payphone that seen better days. The numbers were rubbed off. Concealing his face with a hoody, he entered the number Sophia had texted him. He tried to mask his voice by speaking unnaturally high, but that only hurt his voice so by the end he was back down to his normal heavy bass. He proceeded to leave, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of his face and recognizing him as a celebrity. Knowing his luck, someone would know that big scary guy from television land.
Several days later, they gathered in a small conference room in the basement of the city’s courthouse. The legal tandem, Sophia Ferrari and William McGowan, sat side-by-side at a long narrow table. Folders filled with documents fanned out over the table. When Xander and Hunter entered the room, the attorneys stood to exchange handshakes. McGowan seemed to appreciate that both Xander and Hunter met the dress code. They had come on little notice, but they had been warned that within a short amount of time, Connor would have to be brought before a judge in the juvenile court. Xander hadn’t been briefed for that time, which kept him on edge. Whiskey didn’t mollify his news. Little news came out about the discovery of an unidentified body on the side of I-15. Despite reporters asking questions, the police department kept the details few and spare in the media release. Xander wondered whether their pride took a direct hit to know that the missing woman they searched high and low was on the side of a major highway, right under their noses. But Xander, this time around, didn’t prescribe to the ‘no news is good news’ philosophy. He waited, with anticipation, for the other shoe to drop. And knew when that happened, the full might of the criminal justice system comes crashing down on Xander and his son. The tragedy will be publicized, Xander’s connection will be scrutinized. Regardless of facts, a lynch mob will string him up in the court of public opinion. Game over.
Sophia gave Xander’s a firm strong handshake, before tossing back her brunette ponytail over her shoulder. He always pegged her as an iron maiden, armed with a steel will. The slight scent of vanilla passed Xander by. She reminded him of Regan in a way, perhaps that mental association created a certain attraction towards her. “Nice to meet you two again. I will be honest, I’m a little out of my element in Southern California. I had to wrangle a lot of interns to gather all the good shit to bring me up to speed about the law of the land. But I have a good idea where we stand.”
“And we’re in good shape!” William followed up with a devilish grin. “We have nothing but good news for you. First, the murder investigation has come to a standstill. The autopsy returned with inconclusive results. The medical examiner could not determine a cause of death, the body degraded too severely underneath the desert’s sun and the animals’ feasting. They’re turning to state to examine the body once more, but I have confidence they will come to the same conclusion.”
“And what exactly does that mean? Connor’s going to skip out on a trial or something?” Xander’s eyes darted back and forth between the two lawyers. A public trial was the last thing Xander desired. Meanwhile, McGowan sounded relaxed, joyous even. Xander started to relax.
Sophia answered this time, seeming to want to be the spokesperson for the legal team, “Basically the district attorney does not believe they have enough evidence to go to trial. There’s zero physical evidence. What there are is only circumstantial, and I think the man’s smart enough to know that we will explain her death as an accidental mishap, heatstroke. There is zero evidence she had been murdered, premediated or not. No murder weapon, no signs of struggle, there is absolutely nothing to refute Connor’s version of the events.”
“That’s great,” Xander hummed, but his reaction surprised him. He had convicted his son in his mind’s court, hoped for some punishment. Maybe he thought this would have been a convenient way to write him off. He loathed the prospect of having that moody asshole back in his home. After all he had done, Xander failed to see how he could be a good father to the brat. He wondered if the boy even deserved a proper father. “So, what about the other charges? The robbery and assault?”
“Again, good news on that front. The elderly woman, when interviewed, claimed that she voluntarily handed over that lockbox, stating she thought the boy was in desperate need and ‘her children are little shits, don’t deserve anything’, her words not mine,” Sophia explained. He found the account to be surprising as well as doubtful. Maybe some old lady took pity on the boy and lied, thinking she was saving his future. Regardless, that left one charge, the assault. Good, Connor didn’t get away scot-free. He would have to answer to at least one of his crimes. But if he understood, he wouldn’t be tried as an adult, his crimes would go through the juvenile criminal system, kept under lock and key, ultimately to be sealed. Best of both worlds if Xander had to guess.
“But the assault charge’s going to stick, right?”
“Yes, unfortunately so. The injured officer had claimed a minor concussion and needed to take a few weeks off to recover from the attack. We’re looking at plea deals, but my guess is that he’s going to have to spend some time in a detention center,” McGowan’s turn to provide some answers. The news lifted Xander’s spirit, he lit up with a wide smile. Perfect. He can be someone else’s problem. He tried to be a Dad to the boy and evidently, he failed completely. Someone else can have a go at it.
“There he is now. He cleans up nicely,” Sophia commented as Connor is led into the room, flanked by armed guards on either side. White-collared dress shirt, red tie, charcoal slacks, Xander didn’t think he ever saw Connor looked so groomed. His typical mess of hair had been neatly parted and tamed. He looked like a whole another creature. A smile glued on his face, almost belied the boy’s characteristic grimness, but Xander knew better. That boy was a monster. No matter how well you clean him up, a leviathan swam just beneath the surface.
“We’ll take it from here.”
They left Connor in their care. Handcuffs kept his hands back behind his back. Xander growled at the reminder of how uncomfortable such bindings were. He did not miss those days where he adorned them. This new look interested Xander though. Just the other day, the boy appeared to be a crazed animal, and today, he transformed into an actual human, perhaps one that could fool a judge into believing he had potential as a contributing member of society after a little polish. The corner of his lip curled even further when the boy’s blue eyes fell on his father. Something more was at work. The fact Xander couldn’t piece it completely together frustrated at him. The mirthful look on display by the kid added salt to the wounds. He was hiding something. He was in on some joke at Xander’s expense.
“So, we’re going to be notified when to enter the court. This is only a preliminary hearing. Basically, they’re going to announce the charges they are pursuing. We’re going to argue to have Connor released into our custody. Finally, a future court date will be had, where we will enter in our plea since we don’t have a deal in place yet,” Sophia explained the process. She turned towards Connor, pointing at him with a bright red nail directed towards his chest. He straightened out his slouch as he nodded along with her directions. “Listen here, Connor. You have to be respectful of the judge. Best to keep things simple, try for one-word answers until he asks for more. Then be thoughtful, we’ll be there to advise you what to say if we run into any turbulence, which I highly doubt. Got it?”
“Of course,” Connor answered. Xander swore his smile had taken on a much uglier disposition, purely arrogant and maybe even drawing in the air of entitlement. He seemed like a man who just got away with murder. Anger started to boil within Xander. Connor once again locked eyes with Xander, before releasing a silent laugh amidst the shaking of his head. He mocked Xander’s ignorance.
Sophia clapped her hands and started, “Good, seems everything’s in—”
“Why are you smiling, boy? You think this is some game? That you’re some sort of winner?” Xander bellowed as he approached Connor.
“And here we go, off the rails,” Sophia groaned.
Connor’s expression did not change.
Xander continued as he leaned forward into the boy’s face, “Now, you might think you’re clever. You might think that you’re getting away with something. But let’s be honest here, you’re fucking lucky. Lucky that everything fell perfectly in place. It’s not always going to the be the case. You should be looking at a long time in a prison cell. You should be scared shitless!”
“Is it luck? I don’t know. I don’t really feel any fear right now. You have awesome lawyers at your disposal, Dad. I feel like freedom is only a matter of time,” Connor responded, his whimsical tone danced with his words. Xander growled, went to snatch the boy’s tie to choke him, but stopped himself. Connor tilted his jaw up, looked up at the ceiling and started to hum.
Xander huffed, he puffed, but he pivoted on his feet, turning towards McGowan. “Enough of this shit. The boy’s keeping secrets. He can’t keep a straight face for the life of him. Look at him? He’s a child thinking he’s God. Now tell me, William, what’s so funny? Last time I spoke to you, you were beside yourself, acting like a god damn fool. What exactly did Connor say to you that got you so scared?”
McGowan froze, deer stuck in the headlights. Xander caught him. He also caught Sophia, shaking her head ‘no’ in the far corner of his eye. They both kept a secret from him. What was the revelation that scared them both? No one spoke. Xander clutched the air, his palms out questioningly. Hunter placed a hand on his shoulder, an attempt to calm but it only upset him more. He knew there something else, an elephant in the room, and their refusal to explain made him wonder if he lost his sanity. The more he thought about their unwillingness to inform him of the conspiracy, the angrier he became; after all, Xander paid for both their services. Their loyalty belonged to him, not his son. Xander stampeded quickly towards McGowan, went to lift the man off the floor by his collar but then Connor chuckled. Xander reared his head back towards the boy.
“They told me, under no circumstances, to tell you. Given your fragile mindset, they’re afraid you might snap. Might even murder me. Might even murder them too. Father, how does it feel to be treated with such kid gloves?” Connor jested from across the room. Xander roared towards him. He threw a haymaker, but he directed the punch to land beside the boy’s head right into the cement wall. Xander recoiled, his knuckles busted, maybe his hand broken. He breathed heavily.
“Tell me.”
“You sure you want to know”
“Don’t tell him,” Sophia ordered. “This is not the time to be having this discussion. We’re only a few minutes away from having to appear in court. Let’s get a hold of ourselves!”
By this point, Hunter, William, and Sophia had come to stand behind him. Xander reeled back his fist, debated about throwing a punch again, this time on target. However, the two women threw themselves onto his arm. McGowan held the other one. Connor leaned up, whispered in Xander’s eyes, “Careful Dad, this is not my first rodeo. Maybe I’ll make it three in a row.”
Xander’s eyes widened. The threat went in one ear and out the other. No, his focus became solely latched onto the second statement Connor made. He had murdered before. Who? Lost in deep thought, he grew easier for his crew to guide backward. They dragged him away, adding distance between father and son. Each stride made Connor that much safer. The gears in his head churned, painfully slow. Maybe he didn’t want to leap right to the obvious conclusion, because that conclusion might turn him into a murderer too. Their fears would be actualized. But the circumstances pointed to only one explanation. The reason why they didn’t tell him about a previous murder was because they feared what his reaction would be. They knew his temper. William knew him well enough to understand he held attachment to her.
Connor drowned Calli.
Connor killed his own mother.
The reason why he seemed unfazed because he had killed before. Once a killer, always a killer. Each time, the task became easier. He had heard soldiers account about the cold inhumanity they absorbed when pulling the trigger towards the enemy. Xander faced an out of body experience at that moment, his entire soul twisted into a knot. Xander erupted with a painstaking sob. His vision blurred. He had to be wrong. Someone tell him he was wrong!
“I don’t— No, you couldn’t have. You wouldn’t,” Xander managed. He looked up at his son, pleading to deny the truth. “You didn’t kill her too. Tell me, boy… tell me you didn’t kill her. She cherished you. You were the only thing in this world that mattered to her!”
“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. You’ll never know,” Connor toyed with him instead. Xander threw his entire weight forward, their grip on him slipped. Connor stepped back as Xander fell, tripping over Hunter, who caught him with a last-minute shoelace tackle. Xander’s hands reached for the boy still, failing to protect him for the fall. His jaw crashed down onto the floor. Pain shot up all the sides of his face, spliting his head in half. His vision blurred again. Sophia spirited Connor away, out into the hallway. He blinked. Stars spiraling around his vision. No sight of his son. No sight of the dog that needed to be put down. Only if Xander had a gun, he would lodge a bullet behind those bright blue eyes.
“Calm down, Xander. You need to calm yourself. Remember where we are?” William advised as he knelt down beside Xander. Xander weakly hammered the floor with his broken fist. Agony bore down onto him. Calli! Why her? She was innocent! Her only mistake was that she loved him! He let this happen! And that was how he repaid her?
“You knew?”
“We don’t know anything for certain. The boy only hinted. I didn’t tell you because I knew you might try to do something stupid. We need you to be a stabilizing force. The judge might be reluctant to release him into our care given your own record,” William softly explained. Hunter crawled up onto his back, keeping her weight against him. He could overpower her. He could throw her off. Chuck William across the room and hunt down Connor. But what was the point? That wouldn’t bring back Calli.
“I’ll kill him,” Xander muttered.
“No, you won’t.”
“What am I supposed to do then?”
“Be a father. Your son needs help. Lots of it.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Xander repeated. By this point, he managed to sit up. His jaw remained hanging, his mouth agape as he tried to make sense of the revelation. He couldn’t ground himself. ‘He couldn’t smell. He couldn’t taste. All he felt was a gun wound in his heart. When he closed his eyes, he only saw Calli’s glowing smile. “I can’t even look at the boy again. I’ll kill him. He can rot in jail for all I care. He deserves fucking worst!”
William pleaded with him, speaking in a controlled monotone, “You think that prison is going to help him? It’s going to make him into something worse. On the outside, we can have him committed. But that won’t happen if you don’t appear in court today, looking like a responsible father. They keep him in custody until the trial. Then they sentenced him and when he serves his time, they’ll ship him off to foster care. Your presence makes all the difference.”
“No. Fuck him,” Xander rose to his feet.
“Xander!” William called out after him. Xander left the room. Hunter scurried behind, keeping in close pursuit. William followed him out into the hallway. “Come back! We need you! Stop! Think about your son, man! You’re all he got!”
Xander kept marching. Fists clenched. At the bottom of the stairwell, Sophia had Connor set aside. Fear washed across her face as she approached. She looked around, trying to figure out the best reaction to this problem. She had to navigate this crisis perfectly for the best outcome. Xander didn’t even acknowledge the boy’s existence. He hurried up the stairs. She sighed relief but then cursed at the new predicament. His departure foiled their plans. New ones had to be drafted on the fly. Xander didn’t care. He didn’t stop, kept his face fixated in what was in front of him. He walked deliberately, step after step, until he found the sanctuary of his truck’s cab. He opened up the door, plopped down onto the driver’s seat and just placed his hand over his eyes. I’m sorry, Calli. I’m sorry. This is all my fucking fault. He looked up; through his blurred vision, he watched the clouds pass overhead. If he had been a better husband and father, she would never have to suffer. The boy might not have been a lawyer, a doctor, or a professional athlete, but he would have been an honest man. Instead, his actions made Calli a bloated corpse and Connor a rabid beast.
No, he can’t hold onto such guilt any longer. Now this added weight. This burden threatened to crush him, to break him completely. He had to let go. He had to abandon Calli’s image. He had to sever all ties with that monster, now standing in the courtroom. Calli would not want to be avenged. Vengeance was simply his own selfish desire. But to achieve vengeance, he would have to sacrifice everything. No, to survive, he had to carve out whatever attachment he held for the boy and for Calli. Burn it all way. Spread the ashes. Ash to ash. Dust to dust. They were dead. He buried their image deep. They didn’t exist. They never existed.
Xander was a free man.
“Let me drive,” Hunter decided. Xander weakly nodded, stepping out from the truck. He circled around the other side, tossed himself in. He didn’t even bother to buckle his seatbelt. He just hung forward, shivering despite the summer heat. He lacked energy. He lacked resolve. But he held onto the one narrative he had always clung to in the worst of times: survival.
“We’ll get through this,” Hunter whispered in his ear. She intertwined his hand with hers. Xander nodded but sobbed one last time. He had ripped out the best of him, purged himself of any love that had remained over the years towards mother and child.
But he had to.
For everyone’s sake.
From TMI.comAccording to the documents obtained by TMI, Xander Valentine no longer holds custody for his 13-year-old son, Connor. The fame professional wrestler, known for his prominent role as a bully in the squared circle, had been mandated by court order to release his child to State care. The decision seemed to be made by a Juvenile Court judge, who believed the Xander Valentine’s residence does not foster a proper environment for the troubled boy. While the exact nature of Connor Valentine’s criminal troubles is kept sealed, speculation is that Valentine’s lack of parental oversight might have resulted in Connor’s criminal transgressions. There is no evidence to suggest that was any criminality to Valentine’s neglect. San Diego DA office and PD has both denied any investigations into the troubled household. We have no records of any ligation against Valentine.
When asked for a comment, Xander Valentine’s personal attorney, William McGowan issued the following statement: “At this time, my client has relinquished the custody of his son to the State of California. At this time, we are not going to fight the court’s decision. My client expresses his hope that the State is better equipped to address the unique set of emotional and psychological issues afflicting his son. He expects the state will produce the finest treatment needed to resolve his son of those aforementioned issues. Let me reiterate, my client, Xander Valentine, is neither suspected of any wrongdoing nor are we aware of any pending criminal investigations into him. This is an unfortunate circumstance that faces my client. As a loving father, my client regrets failing to provide the necessary structure and environment required when raising a troubled child.”
When pressed for the nature of Connor Valentine’s crimes, William McGowan went on to say that he was not at liberty of disclosing that information due to the nature of the crimes and Connor’s age. We would like to mention William McGowan is also legal counsel for Connor. TMZ is monitoring the situation for additional information.
This isn’t the first time Xander Valentine has experienced domestic issues. Years earlier, Xander Valentine was embroiled in a bitter divorce with his ex-wife, former wrestler, the late Calli Bennett. He ultimately lost that legal battle, having to surrender full custody for Connor, forfeit half his material assets to Calli while the other half was placed in a trust fund for Connor. This left Xander Valentine notably penniless. We do not believe this is the case today.
In addition to the divorce, Xander Valentine made headlines a year ago when he went into the crowd and attacked ticketholders at a SCW event. The assault charges pressed against him in Boston was later reduced after a plea bargain was struck. Experts have advised us that Connor’s removal might have been a result of his father’s criminal history, making him unfit to be the guardian of a trouble teen.
We will update this story when we receive more information.
Have you ever watched a clock’s pendulum swing, from side to side, back and forth, again and again? Hear the incessant clicking of the second hand, traveling the entirely of its endless orbit? Click. Click. Click. Time slips through our mortal hands. We can’t gasp it like we can a wad of dollar bills or a handful of carnal flesh. We can’t tame its infinite march; we’re unable to divert its flow with brick dams nor can we harness its power with cotton sails. The forthcoming second inevitable, undeniable. We must bear its coming.
The same can be said about my wrath.
We are slaves to the dwindling sand in our hourglasses. Each speck falling to the bottom, one step closer to the fatal finale of our minuscule lives. A reminder of our limitations, maybe. The proverbial end of our tunnel will eventually arrive. Whether it’s a bright light or an abrupt nightfall, we are powerless against the arrival of the reaper. When we are young, we don’t fret. We’re still early in the first act. The top half of the hourglass is full of the deserts of the Sahara. We’ll never see the end. But when that pile starts to dwindle, we’re watching each painstaking moment, lamenting each speck that fall, overwhelmed with dread that the last sands of our sunny beaches will be washed out into the sea, forever gone, never to return.
My name is Xander Valentine.
I am to be dreaded.
I am inevitable.
That’s not an empty threat, but I don’t expect you to listen closely to my words either way. We turn a blind eye to the looming disaster barreling towards us, don’t we? We do so as a society, as a nation, but most of all, we do so as individuals. Not until the storm reaches our shores do we seek shelter! Not until the fire ignites our home do we panic! Not until our entire family drops dead from the plague do we fear! I expect this event not to be any different. History is doomed to repeat itself. Us men are fools. Enlightenment evades us all. My foes will trot out there, chins held high, the glare of their polished armor marvelously blinding spectators. Fans will roar with bloodthirsty approval. And with that, you lot have been coddled your entire careers, shielded by your cocoons of ego, grass-fed by the pomp and circumstance of this sport. Strip away at this sport’s gilding, we are left with only the brutality of violence. The core of our existence. We’re no different from the animals.
All of you are a participant in this struggle.
Vying for survival, hoping for greatness. Not knowing you’re being victimized.
While you’re all journeymen, who made it this far by your harnessing of the violence, none of you have mastered violence, like I have. None of you have embraced the violence like I have. No, in your heads, you’re above the savagery, even though it is what foots the bill. The blood, the pain, the battered bodies, the broken bones, drug addictions that is our price of admission to the wonders that the gladiator’s life has to offer. Is it not the same as splendor rewarded to the Vikings that ravaged the coastal towns or the Mongolians that rape and pillaged the whole of Asia? I hear it now, your cries of denial. No, of course not! You’re civilized! You’re the heroes! You’re the champions! You’re blessed with bottomless cups full of glory and shit that doesn’t stink! Whether it be paragons of virtue or masturbatory sadists, does it make a difference? You all have you lies that you tell yourself that you’re different. That’s you’re not some kind of animal.
That you’re better.
You all hide from the shame of truth.
I will say this, delusions might protect your mind, might make for the glue that keeps your will to fight together, but it doesn’t protect you from the harsh reality that’s about to befall you. The brawl that has been placed before us, the rules have been dismantled, the sport’s gold casing has been melted down, and what are we left with?
Into the wild we go.
Welcome to my home.
Violence is the only thing I have. I failed as a father. I failed as a husband. I failed as hero. But what can then I aspire to be then? Nothing. I don’t aspire to be anything. Instead, I have accepted my base nature. I’m the bully. I’m a monster among men, a starved wolf among a flocked of sheep. An animal. A carnivore. That is the truth. Some might have forgotten this truth. Some might not want to accept this truth. Others might want to erase this truth. But the truth will be revealed, regardless of wishes and wants. But by this match’s funeral toll, everyone will be reminded of who I am.
The Executioner.
Xander fucking Valentine.
I’m to be dreaded.
I’m inevitable.
Not that I mind but Sasha really has made the biggest mistake in her young reign. She thought she tossed me a bone: a title shot at the United States Championship? No, she forgot to close the door to the chicken coop. Through her negligence, she has invited you all into my house. You’re mistaken if you think you’re a guest of any honor, you’re merely part of the spread for this cannibal’s feast. And damn, did she spoil me with the variety, wide-ranging cuisines from paper tigers to even a little bo peep. You all bring a unique flavor, a different layer to this divine desert, but most of you are simply there to inflate the body count.
She even brought my favorite dishes, old foes that I have dearly missed. Old foes who managed to escape me the first time, whoever cheated death and prospered as a cause of it. Hello, Christy! Hello, Chris! Hello, Jay! I hope you’ve all aged as well as vintage wine. You might have all escaped my axe the first time. It won’t happen the second. I will take particular care to ensure you’re not lost in the shuffle, in the madness that awaits us. After all, you’re my favorites. I’ll make sure you’re put underneath the spotlight, have your day in the sun, before dropping the curtain of the night along with my axe.
Thank you for this gift, Sasha. Now I can right some wrongs. I can fix the past. Rewrite history to my desire, erase the regret I carry for my failures. I was tempted to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I found the silver lining, haven’t I? Aren’t you proud?
But my attention now draws on the present.
At this moment, I’m ravaged by this thirst, consumed by it even. Clyde, your antics have left me hungry. I bear bad news for you, the bars of my cage are gone, there’s nothing left protecting you. Look at my hands, the restraints are gone. To dumb it down for your adolescent mind: I’ve been given back my balls. Sasha graciously took the jar down from the shelf. Now you get to be my apprentice, to learn firsthand how a butcher slaughter the cow, how to make the cuts from the hanging carcass on a meat hook. It’s like a canvas. But I have my doubts because your false bravado left me with the feeling that you won’t be able to hold the knife steady in your hand. Every artist knows it’s key to control your strokes. Are you sure you’re able to stand the sight of blood on your hands? Look, you’re shaking in your boots! Are you sure you can stomach the taste of the blood accidentally sprayed in your mouth from your blows? Look, your face has gone mighty pale!
Let’s be honest, Clyde. Are you sure you want to be my replacement?
You must strip yourself of humanity, accept the futility of morals and humanly comforts. No longer will find solace in the verbal vomit spewing forth from your mouth, I’m afraid. With all disrespect intended, Clyde, you might yell the loudest, you might even think you’re tough borrowing the vocabulary of a junior high punk, but you’re a pretend cowboy playing a child’s game. You forgot your blankets and muskets to eradicate the Indians. More importantly, words don’t make a man, actions do. Action, Clyde! ACTION! This is what separates men from the boys. You can spout your fantasies, roleplay in the safety of twitter, but your desires will never be realized until you act. I can tell that you’re from the Braddock school of thought on this matter the way you boasted without any shame or shred of legitimacy! Who needs accomplishments when you have social media! Glen’s surely rolling in his grave. The hunter’s mind is simply more than the rifle he holds in his hand, but the willingness to pull the trigger. To endeavor to do an act that can’t be undone. To take something he can never return. A life.
But you’re not the only one that has had a joke at my expense, are you?
No, we can’t forget about the Ace Marshall, the man who plays the role of the court jester, but we all know there is much more to the story than that. He might proudly pose as the lovable idiot, but we all know Ace Marshall is actually a man with a sharp mind, plagued with hedonistic tendencies and particular tastes. He’s what you get when you give a frat boy a god complex. He starts pulling strings. Poking bears with sticks. Exploding frogs with firecrackers. I don’t hate you, Ace. You might be the only person in this match that whose existence I don’t loath. You annoy me though. A pesky fly buzzing around my face. Your existence is surely an annoyance to others as well. I’m sure they won’t mourn you, not even your wife. Now, you’ve had your fun. You played with fire. You touched the stove. Satisfied? Good. Now, I’ll have my fun.
We have covered the past, faced the present, so now let’s look towards the future.
I don’t particularly care to hold the United States Championship. It is not that I reject that the title has any merit. To the contrary, I’ve always seen it as a golden ticket. After all, my last reign as World Champion came when I traded the United States in for the upgrade. But’s that’s a trivial matter at the moment, not important at all, but what is important is the waist that belt decorates by the end of that night. Selena? We all know that she moved on from, but I haven’t, like a lovesick ex. We all know she believes she has had a fairytale ending, but I contend that’s a tragedy is perfect for her character. Her love to be honored, her vanity is well known. But for me, personally, I love robbing joy from my loved ones. As petty as that sound. Kandis? She escaped me the other week, who mouthed off so magnificently to me. I’d love to rain on her parade, but more that I would like to tear down her perception that this world is her playground, and everyone covets her. I want her lifeless. Broken. Spiritless. Like the next centerfold who grew too old. Tommy? Now, we’re talking! The possibilities all are appetizing. It doesn’t matter which of the death row inmates climb into the chair, I want them all to ride the lightning.
I’m to be dreaded.
I’m inevitable.
Past, present, future, I’m there. Today, I’m in a mortal coil, but the nightmare is always there, waiting underneath the bed, around that corner, in that dark alleyway. The nightmare is real. I’m simply one embodiment of the darkness, a man who sold his soul for pennies on the dollar. And there is one person that I want to understand this matter of fact, more than anyone who defies me at Rise to Greatness, more than anyone that might be waiting to defend their precious gold at Apocalypse. More than anyone.
Regan, are you watching?
You better keep your eyes glued to the television screen. You chose wrong. As you watch the massacre unfold, the bodies mingled in the wreckage of the flaming car, the dreams shattered on the rocks below, remember that you were the one that could have prevented. Their blood is on your hands even though Sasha afforded the killer this opportunity. I would never have been on the farm. You could have diverted this calamity. All you had to do was make a deal with the devil and I would have delivered you the conquest you covet. Instead, you let me free, to reign terror on your fellow locker room. You might be known as a bitch, but I thought your intelligence outweighed your pettiness. I was wrong. That’s all you are, petty.
So when I speak these words, I address them to not only those is in my blast radius, but especially you, my unrequited love.
I’m to be dreaded.
I’m inevitable.
I’m coming for you.
Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.
Executioner's Plight 