This wasn't the Cashe you have seen more recently. Okay not far off in a few ways but it's not 2017. Remove a few years, the year when 4CW first started. A month before the debut of Fright Night. Before the event happened when the arena went completely quiet. As you see the scene, you hear his voice almost narrating the story. A memory, his voice telling it to him in a visual sense. A "sticky note" if you will.. but across from him was Kaylyn James Evans.
"I love you but.. I dunno if I want to give this another chance. You have done nothing but push me away these last few months."
"I want to spent the rest of our time together proving to you that you are the key to all of this... All of my success, all of our happiness. You are the reason! Please forgive me, look I'm begging!" Slowly lowering himself to one knee, he reminded himself that he thought of marriage at the time. The sense of hoping she didn't have that same thought because this was NOT a proposal.
"You better not hurt me again Jason.." Pain. Sorrow that felt deeply scarred bouncing with every word she muttered. He had gained her forgiveness even though he only was part of the troubles between them. She nagged, she stalked through his past. She became a leech of wanting to know his daily routine and it felt at times that he had grown a cancerous lump somewhere he didn't want one. There was a hollowing pit in his stomach as the memory continued to play out.
Jumping from that to brief flashes of them being happy. Showing improvement from the last "break up". Him making her think he cheated on her and he STILL had to dump her. Her following him from WCF to APW to FW and then to 4CW. She had become a leech and for him, he felt it now as he did then. There was a few ways to remove them.
"I think you are my Soulmate..."
He remembered how weird it felt hearing someone call him that the first time. How weird it was the second time as well. Sometimes he thought, he would rather drink bleach than to have these memories play in his head. Trying to think about something else only progressed the memories of her. Suddenly Fright Night came into his theater of memory.
Cashe slowly gets to his feet while Jessica lays on her back, motionless. KJE then walks over her and yells a few things before looking up at Cashe with a relaxed feeling overcoming her. Cashe smiles at her and slowly walks around Jessica, making his way beside KJE. As the two stand side of by side, Cashe begins to discuss a game plan with her as Holt and Roxi battle in the other ring. Hopkins and Raab continue to lay on the mat as the two exchange blows in the center of the ring. Cashe then nods at KJE and motions for her to enter the other ring. Just as she turns her back to him, Cashe taps her on the shoulder. KJE turns around only to get greeted with a stiff elbow driven right through her face.
JOHNSON: ”Cashe hit KJE with the Mark of Jason!”
VASSA: ”That cold hearted son of a bitch!”
KJE hits falls straight to her back as the crowd pops with mixed reactions. He then mounts himself on top of her and stares down, pausing for a brief moment. Cashe then begins to drive elbows into her defenseless face over and over.
VASSA: ”We’ve seen this before. Cashe did the same thing to Jason Phoenix at Ante Up.”
JOHNSON: ”Things have taken a turn for the worse for Kaylyn.”
As Cashe continues to connect with elbow after elbow, Holt and Roxi stop fighting each other and take notice. Helpless, KJE takes hit after hit, trying to get away but failing. Roxi takes lead and runs to the ropes connecting the ring and leaps into the air. As she flies at Cashe, KJE begins to slam her hand on the mat, surrendering as the ref quickly takes notice. Roxi slams into Cashe and knocks him off of KJE but it’s too late as the ref is signaling for the bell.
Funny he thought. His memory of the event was as a viewer of it, as if he sat and watched it at home. He knew why, he knew that in the moment he was high. Not on weed but on Adrenaline. It was like he gained amnesia from an overdose had living that moment that he can no longer experience it first hand in his thoughts. Nothing more was put into it. He almost appreciated seeing in this view, as a fan of the work put in. The scheme of it all. Everything played out perfectly that night.
"Jaw fractured in 3 places. She lost 3 teeth. Haha!" Whispering out loud as he sits in a crowded Bus Stop. Physically he was there but in his head, he was watching, remembering how the next 4CW PPV connected so well with his more recent break up. The similarities were there, nobody looking back for research could argue that. Yet where this thought and these memories did start thinking about "her" it led back to KJE. So deep in his own head that he couldn't recall where he was going on the bus.
Again he drifts off in the memories, in his "Sticky Notes" replaying and almost remembering something as if it was a new memory. Just one buried away, forgotten but not lost. His next memory was the voice mail. Remembering it because he was waking up naked on the Football field at Houston University. A bright red set of letters reading "Memory Lost" flashes, telling him that he can't branch deeper into that memory. It is lost forever. This had become like a puzzle to him, these sticky notes. Like he could travel across a map. Visualizing Super Mario 3, how each level connected. Branched off into side levels and what not. This was what he seen looking at memories, at these "Sticky Notes" and that's just the only way he can explain it.
"Hi.. it's me.." There was a pause. Like maybe she had regretted making the call. It was clearly over but still she called him. Looking back at it now, he can feel a cold chill telling him how hard she fought herself not to call. How it made her feel weak. Her voice trembled as she spoke again, he felt himself gasp to hold his breath. Like the words would burn as they fell upon his ears...
"I wish I never met you. You taught me how to hate someone, how to hate myself more than I did before I met you. I regret the smiles you gave me and made me have because now I know they meant nothing. Were for nothing. What I did to you doesn't compare to what you have done to me overall."
It was in his nature to argue. It was in most people's nature but MOST won't do it direct but still want an audience. Cashe tells himself then and remembers feeling the need to argue against her words. To tell her that their relationship, good, bad, and lies was never a competition. That both sides had their faults and neither side could push past them in the long run. This occurs simply when one or more of those involved fail to check their egos at the door. It happens even when you don't see it or want to see it. Cashe understands this as if feeling the scars of each experience carved in his head. Like the header on his twitter account, his cracks were his mistakes made. Learning from each one as he goes, some mistakes he repeats again later.
"I tried to kill myself..." He knew those were her next words. He remembered them vividly for a while after. There was so much behind the scenes that people weren't shown. Yet hearing them again felt like daggers. Not as cold as they were the first time but still piercing. "I'm not telling you this because I want attention. After crying for hours, sitting in the bath tube with the razor blade in my hand.. I had to decide. I made a choice.."
Choices. Shaking out of his memory, blocking out the almost video quality playback in his head. He notices an elderly woman who had fallen asleep sitting nearby. Her head dropped forward as she hugged herself with crossed arms. A younger kid was away in his own world, headphones on, head nodding with the music blasting loudly in his ears. What choices were here, right now to make? Thinking outside the box, his mind races to DDTing the sleeping old woman. Right into the concrete under their feet. Grab the kid by the waistline and launch his ass into traffic. Those are choices.
Instead he lays his head back once more. Lets his eyelids fall to a close as the "play" button on his memories once again gets pushed. "I want you to know that I will always care about you. I hate you for that.. I dread the day I think of your voice, your wit or your touch. Good times we shared will now haunt me. I hate you for this and hope you live in regret forever for it because I do. I'm sorry for ever meeting you.."
Laughter echoed in his head, like a song bouncing around in a Church during Sunday service. That was his response at the time, he laughed. To him she was pathetic, to him, she was weak. He hadn't understood it at all. He hadn't known that connection to someone, wasn't sure he has even now. Okay he felt strongly for Queef up until January when he tried to end it then. Thankfully the sound of the Bus pulling up pulled him from his Sticky Notes. Eyes opened, the light kind of stung as the mid day Sun blared down. He'd have to return to memory lane later..