WWE Fan Fiction ❯ Angel of the Devil ❯ Blinded by Hate ( Chapter 3 )

Angel of the Devil

Chapter 3: Blinded By Hate

 

It's been two days since the taping and I'm sitting here on my comfortable couch, half asleep watching some crap on the television set with a towel around my waist. I cannot comprehend sound, sight, or touch. If I were asked the time I would not know it. Know… to know… what is it to know?

 

Hate.

 

Bitter and increasing hate for one man I once would have given everything for.

 

A.J., you say to me you and the Hardy boy are not lovers, but after that night how can I believe you?

 

Pfft.

 

Cassidy. There's another low life, back-stabbing, useless piece of puppet garbage. Where the hell was he when I- My thoughts are thrown for a loop as I hear a knocking at the door, a light tap at first, but becoming ever more bold as the knocking progresses. Perhaps its my own state of mind. Day dreaming has a way to pull people from comprehension, as does deep thought.

 

Reluctantly, and with great difficulty I manage to hoist myself from my couch after the sound has continued long enough for me to determine that there may very well be someone at my door.

 

Slowly I make my way to it, yawning with great effort so as to not drop dead into sleep right here. I wouldn't want to risk my health or sanity by hitting my head on a coffee table.

 

I reach for the handle, careless and disinterested greatly on how I'm dressed. If its some church group, perhaps it'll scare them off. The knocking won't stop, and now its pressing my last nerve as I stand here. I'm at the door but all the locks remain, and finally I can stand it no longer.

 

“STOP FUCKING KNOCKING!!!” Jesus Christ. Don't people have any decency?

 

I dally with the locks a bit, trying to focus my sleepy eyes to make sure the one time I go to open the door, that I won't have to try again if a lock snags. I hear the knocking again, tentative little knocks that feel like their tapping on my skull rather than the wood of my door, and finally I lose it completely. Moving out of the way, I thrust the door open, blinded by my own anger, and there before me is the boy who I deem shall suffer. Now… and forevermore.