Face Your Demons

ten

While in the south, I decided to take up Fergal's offer for a visit. A sudden move to Alabama to be closer to the physical therapist has caused a lot of stress to fall upon the man. I figured it was the least I could do while I was still around.

Granted, Paul said I would have to put in twice the work next week on Raw to take some time off. I promised I wouldn't miss a beat, which he smiled over.

With two hours worth of road ahead of me from Atlanta, I buckled down for the journey ahead. Along the way, my mind considered turning around, to give up on the man on the other end of this path. However, I thought about it as if I was in his shoes.

What if I was in desperate need of a friend during a rough patch in my career?

Thinking it over caused a tight knot to form in my stomach; I thought I was going to throw up.

I had been in his shoes in the past. He abandoned me when I needed him most, when my brother died and I lost my job. That was when I needed him most, but he feigned ignorance.

I should've wanted him to be hurt, to enact some sort of revenge on him. However, I couldn't will myself to do it. Deep down in my hard of hearts, I guess I still had positive feelings for the Irishman. I understood I had to be there for him, to help him, to be the better person. Even though I thought this way, I still didn't trust him.

That was something he needed to earn back.

Andrews Sports Medicine facility in Birmingham, Alabama was where Fergal's directions led me. Turning off the ignition to my rental, I leaned back into the seat and let out a deep breath. I started to rattle the set of keys in my hands out of nervousness. My brain was telling me to stay, but my heart was telling me to go. Nipping at my bottom lip to pick at the skin, I found myself opening the door before I could turn the car on and leave.

I adjusted my sunglasses to the top of my head as I entered the facility. Clanking of metal could be heard beyond the receptionist's desk. The woman, whom I assumed to be McKenna due to the name tag, smiled sweetly my way as I approached her.

"Hello. How many I help you?"

"Hi. I'm looking for Fergal Devitt. He's my co-worker and I was sent to check up on him."

She looked to be slightly off guard by that, and I didn't blame her. Having my own fair share of physical therapy sessions, I've never really heard of someone visiting to sit in on a session. Only in the grandest of circumstances perhaps. After a couple clicks of her tongue, she leaned forward in her chair to make her lower voice be heard.

"Look, I normally wouldn't do this. But Mr. Devitt hasn't been doing the greatest. Maybe some support from a co-worker will do him good," her smile grew as the nodded towards the back, "He should be in the gym with the doctor."

I nodded politely and thanked her for bending the rules before heading in her directions.

The room was filled with assistants and their patients, encouraging words and directions mixing together throughout the pairs. Looking throughout the field of equipment, I noticed him with Doctor Andrew, finishing up a set of mobility exercises. My heart stirred at the sight of it, of him getting better.

But something deep down still hurt. Like I should've writhed at the sight of him like that. Like I should hate him.

I do hate him, and somethings make that go away and somethings make it worse.