The sounds of the real world slowly began to infiltrate his unconscious state as David Helms started to stir from his slumper, the cold tendrils of reality infiltrating and rapidly conquering the world created inside of his own head as he began to wake from what felt like a deep sleep.
So many vivid dreams!
His brain had been so active overnight, so much so that in fact it felt like it had been doing overtime as he lay there, creating the most vivid images that flashed through his mind which were so believable that he truly felt as if he had experienced them for real. It was almost as if he could feel the pain, the fear, the deep sense of self loathing and shame. A whole smorgasbord of complex emotions that had impacted him so deeply as he lay there soundly sleeping in his bed at home.
Only… this didn’t feel like his bed at home. Something wasn’t right, and while he couldn’t quite bring himself to open his eyes just yet, still not quite ready to wake and face the real world for another day, but there was definitely something off as he lay there, trying to put a finger on just what that was. The bed didn’t feel all that comfortable, nor did the pillows beneath him, but he had been working out hard lately, perhaps he’d pulled something during a training session? The smells too… had Jay been ill? The smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils like a literal attack on the senses, suddenly so overwhelming that David had to bring a hand up to his face to cover his nose in the hopes of blocking it. And what the hell was that beeping?
“B..babe?” David said, his voice cracking as he spoke, leaving him to attempt to clear it with a cough. Groaning, he rolled over and, with his eyes still closed, reached out an arm to drape it over his wife… only to feel nothing but cold metal under his forearm and thin air beneath anything beyond that. Huh? What the… where the hell was Regan? Was she up before him? But… why the metal? That didn’t seem right. He tried to move, his opening salvo against the desire to remain in bed and remain in a blissful slumber, but a horrible pain shot through his neck which killed any momentum he was building before he could get a head of steam behind him. Wincing, David brought a hand up to rub at his neck, which felt not just stiff as it did most mornings thanks to not exactly being young anymore, but painful too… surely he hadn’t reached that point yet where just sleeping could leave him with fresh aches and pains in a morning?!
He opened his eyes, slowly at first, as he tried tol convince them to cooperate with his wishes, and while they put up a brave fight, eventually he got them to do his bidding. The light hurt way more than usual for some reason and it took him a moment, blinking several times before his vision cleared enough for him to see the room around him. His freakout started almost right away...
Where the fuck was he?! This wasn’t his home, he wasn’t in his own bed after all! No wonder it didn’t feel right! And the metal under his arm… why the fuck was he in what was clearly a hospital bed?!
“Regan?!” he shouted out, the first wave of what he was sure may turn into a panic attack if he didn’t get answers sooner began to wash over him, causing the incessant beeping in the room to up it’s pace in line with his anxious confusion. “HELLO?!” he bellowed, starting to truly freak out, as he was shocked into a higher level of consciousness, well and truly awake now as he took in the machines he was hooked up to, each of them freaking out in line with his own distress.
David was quickly growing overwhelmed by the situation he found himself in, and he had a banging headache that wasn’t making any of this easier, because who doesn’t like upping the stakes apparently. In his confusion and anxiety, he didn’t know what to do first, and as a result, attempted to do several things at once, succeeding at neither. The oxygen mask was ripped from his nostrils after a second attempt, but as he attempted to simultaneously pull the sticky pads from his chest while trying to stand, he achieved nothing but the feeling of pain in his shoulder as he tumbled from the bed and landed heavily on his right side.
Adding insult to injury, he pulled things down with him, causing the cart which held the heartrate monitor to bounce off of the side of his ribs as that tumbled to the floor too, and as he finally managed to pull himself free, he scrambled on hands and feet backwards to the wall, where he sat staring as the chaos he had just left.
The door to the room flew open with a bang almost straight away as a nurse entered to investigate the source of the crashing sounds coming from within, but it was the second body to enter the room that sent a wave of relief washing over David’s entire body. “DAVE!” Regan yelled out in concern, rushing to her husband as the nurse went to check on the equipment that David had knocked over. She skidded to her knees next to her husband and he wrapped his arms around her like he was clinging on for dear life, hugging her so tightly that she was barely able to continue to breathe normally under the pressure from his arms.
“W-what… how di-... Regan!” David stammered, getting caught on his words; his head felt fuzzy, it made it hard for him to think, to process what he wanted to say, and the light. The light streaming into the room was causing the throbbing in his head to be so much worse than it needed to be.
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s all okay,” Regan told her husband as she stroked his cheek softly, sensing just how distressed and confused he was by the whole ordeal. The nurse, happy that nothing was damaged, turned her attention to Regan and David and he moved to help, but Regan waved her hand to signal that she had it under control without once breaking eye contact from her husband. “Come on, up we get babe,” she told him tenderly as she helped him to his feet, relying heavily on David to put the effort in too, and gingerly he allowed her to guide him back to the bed.
“Wh-what happened…” he asked, as he climbed back in bed and reluctantly allowed the nurse to at least place the pulse monitor back on his finger, thankfully forgoing any lectures as he took his leave to give David and Regan some privacy. “How did… this place?”
“How did you end up in here?” Regan asked, sighing heavily in frustration. “Babe, you were in a crash… you totalled Jason’s Tesla…”
“What?!” David asked in shock, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked at his wife, hoping against hope that this was some sort of bad joke. “I… wait… it… that wasn’t a dream?” he added, vaguely remembering now what he was convinced was just one of the all-too-vivid dreams he thought he’d been having. “So… that means…”
Regan sighed. “You hit your head in the crash, knocked yourself cold...” she explained to her husband, speaking a little slower than she normally would so that he could keep up. “A witness pulled you from the wreck, but you were already out… they called the ambulance and you ended up here,” she explained, wondering how much of this he was even following. But how did you make it more simple than what she had? Car crash, head go bang, outy coldy? He wasn’t a child, he should be able to grasp basic english even if he did take a bump on the head, right? “They’ve run a few tests… the doc said you were surprisingly healthy, other than the bump to the head. You probably have a concussion, babe. Doc says you’ll may be loopy for a day or so.”
“Con…cussion?” Helms asked, bringing a hand up to his head, which had a bandage wrapped around if that he hadn’t noticed until now. “How… how bad?”
“They won’t know until they do some more tests, because you were unconscious… but you’ll likely be fine with rest,” Regan told him, smiling. “But if it is a concussion you’ve got to take it easy for a while, they won’t know for definite how serious it is for a few days yet… you were lucky, babe. The cops said--”
“Cops?!” David asked, suddenly concerned. Despite the fact that his head felt fuzzy in general, despite his memory being a little spotty in places thanks to the bump on the head, he was fairly confident that he hadn’t imagined the part where he had been arrested… earlier today? The day before? How long had he been out? “What… time is it?” he asked, determined to at least clear that part up.
“It’s a little after midday, babe,” Regan told him, not having to think too hard as to why he was asking that one. “You’ve been out around eighteen hours all in all… it actually made the job easier for the docs at least, apart from the concussion test anyway. I assume that’s coming soon, now you’re awake.”
“What… what did the cops say?” David asked, no longer caring about the concussion for now. This was the important part, as far as he was concerned.
“They spoke to witnesses,” Regan told him. “The driver of the car that caused this and the guy who got you out, the passenger I think… the driver confirmed that they were at fault, apparently. Admitted to reversing out of their driveway without looking and that you had to swerve to avoid them, losing control…” she explained. Under normal circumstances, maybe David would have been able to play it cool as she told him what was said, but in his current state - almost certainly concussed and still very confused about a lot of things - evidently he had no poker face to speak of and Regan’s eyes narrowed. “That is what happened, right?” the brunette asked, skeptically.
David adjusted himself on the bed, wincing a little as he shuffled into a more upright position, before nodding… and soon wishing he hadn’t. “From what I remember… yeah,” he said. “I was… probably going a little fast… but I do… I can… remember a car. Blue… it was blue… I think? Had to swerve to miss it, but lost control…”
“That fits with what the cop said,” Regan said, sounding relieved. “The woman was off to pick up her kids from a birthday party, she was running late and didn’t look as she backed out… babe, what the hell were you doing out in Bel Air?!”
“I was…” he start, before swallowing heavily and coughing. Regan helped him to a glass of water, which he gulped down greedily. Handing her the cup back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I was being chased… by those journalists…” he admitted. “Lost… ugh… I lost control when I tried to avoid the blue car, skidded and… hit something…”
“A tree,” Regan offered, filling in the blank for him. “You were in a chase?” she asked, and David nodded, again wishing he hadn’t. His hand went to the bandage wrapped around his head once again, and he winced as his finger accidently poked at the lump beneath it. “Babe, what the fuck were you thinking?”
“I had to get them away from the house…” David muttered, understanding how feeble an excuse it was, even in his confused state. “It kind of worked… I lost most of them on the way… just the final car… a red one I think…”
“And what do you think they would have done when they lost you?” Regan asked, stern but somehow still caring. “They drove straight back to the house, waiting for you to return. And they knew exactly what car to look out for because they saw you driving it…”
David’s head simply hung low. He knew how poorly thought out it was, that was obvious to anyone who could actually spend more than two seconds to consider it. But that was the issue, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been thinking clearly, far from it in fact. He was stressed, he was dealing with the pressure from the trash media hanging out outside his home, was worried about his son returning and having to deal with it too, along with the wider repercussions of what he’d done that morning, even if no criminal charges were being laid against him. He wasn’t thinking at all, and it resulted in him totalling his brother's car.
“Fortunately, I don’t think the cops know about the red car,” Regan continued and David looked up. “They didn’t mention one anyway, or a chase of any sort. Just that eye witnesses confirmed you were trying to avoid an accident when the soccer mom reversed out without looking and ended up hitting the tree. I think they’re looking at it as open and shut.”
“Thank christ,” David mumbled as he relaxed a little, a hand going to his temple to rub at it. His head was pounding, which didn’t help the fuzzy feeling he was still dealing with now that he was awake.
“I don’t think the people chasing when you crashed wanted to admit to being involved, because the news hasn’t broken yet,” Regan said, reaching out to grab her husband’s hand in comfort despite thinking he was clearly an idiot. “There’s been plenty of stuff online about your arrest and the attack, the usual tabloid bullshit that you’d expect… but so far I don’t think anybody knows you’re here. If they’re watching the house, they no doubt think you’re laying low somewhere, riding it out…”
“Figures,” David said, taking his hand out of his wife’s to cover his face with both of his own. “I’ve fucked everything up, huh?” he asked from behind his hands.
Regan reached up and pulled his arm away from his face, forcing David to lower his other hand. “Yeah, you did…” the brunette told him, before smirking. “But everybody fucks up at times, babe. I’m as guilty of that as anyone, and I’m not going to judge you for trying to defend your family Dave, only for not telling me about what was going on sooner…”
“I should have told you from the start,” he admitted and Regan nodded her head.
“You think?” she said before grinning. “Look… let’s not worry about all the other bullshit, okay? For now, we need to just concentrate on getting you home and back to full health… the other shit is peripheril as far as I’m concerned and we’ll deal with it when we have to. We’re a team, remember. In this together until the end…”
“Until the end,” David echoed, a surge of love for his wife flowing through him that was almost enough to help him forget how fuzzy his head felt, along with the throbbing in his temples. He opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could say anything there was a knock from the door to his room and in walked not the same nurse form earlier, but a doctor that David hadn’t seen before.
“Heard a rumour you were awake,” the doctor said as he approached David and Regan, a smile on his face as he approached David with a hand outstretched towards him. “We’ve met already of course, but it’s hard to introduce yourself when your patient is unconscious,” he added with a little chuckle. “Sorry, Doctor’s humour… I’m Dr. Grady, I’m your attending. Regan, good to see you again,” he said, taking Regan’s hand in turn to shake hers too. “So how are you feeling, David?” he asked, turning back to Helms.
“Little groggy, truth be told…” David explained, and the doctor nodded his head.
“Yeah, that’ll happen after a big old bump on the head I’m afraid,” he conceded, before grinning sheepishly. “Then again, I’m sure I don’t need to speak to either of you about the dangers of head trauma, huh?” he added, and Regan smirked as David gave a slight chuckle. “Well, the good news is, you were the perfect patient while out…”
“You mean I’m not hurt?” David asked, amazed.
Doctor Grady laughed and brought a hand up to wobble it up and down. “I mean, that depends on your point of view, I suppose?” he suggested. “Admitedly, for someone who was in a wreck, you have come off relatively unharmed, all things considered…” he admitted, but not entirely enthusiastic. “But what I meant is that it was easy to do examinations and tests on you as you were out of it. That said, you are relatively unharmed as far as the accident goes. The MRI we did showed some signs of slight swelling but no bleeds, which is great news… the swelling though, does lead me to believe you probably have concussion, which is something I’d like to check for if that’s okay with you?” he asked and David motioned with his hands that he was fine with that. “The great news is that otherwise, you seemed to come out of the accident relatively unharmed, save for a few sore spots and bruising. You were lucky, it seems…”
“Sure looks that way,” David admitted; given he was in a car crash, the fact he had come through with no other injuries save for a bang to the head and possible concussion, he had to count his blessings to say the least.
“The rest of the tests came back okay, doc?” Regan asked.
Grady nodded his head. “All things considered, I’d give David here a clean bill of health, apart form the concussion of course. As I said, the MRI showed slight swelling on the brain, but the MRI and CT both came back showing no spinal issues, no herniated discs or deformations. Your stats look fine, especially for someone with a history of heart issues in the past, though I’m led to believe that you got that under control with a change of lifestyle anyway. All in all, once we assess the seriousness of the concussion, I think we may be able to get you out of here.”
That was music to David’s ears. As much as he appreciated the care he’d clearly received while unconscious, he wanted nothing more than to get out of there and go home. Or at least somewhere that wasn’t a hospital at any rate. Home may not be the best of ideas, assuming that there were still reporters hanging around outside of the place. But he tried not to dwell on that as he gave the doctor a nod. “Sounds great, Doc!” he said, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could.
“Alright, let’s get going,” Doctor Grady said, smiling. “Do you feel able to stand?” he asked and David gave a hesitant nod before making to move. The doctor lowered the rail on the side of the bed as Regan stepped forward to pull the bed sheets back to help and David cautiously moved one leg to the floor before doing the same with the second. Now sat on the edge of the bed with both feet on the floor, David gingerly stood up, and while his head was spinning worse than the time Lucas had Monarchy Rules’d him off the stage into a table several years earlier, the fact he could remember that happening at least gave him hope that things weren’t too bad. Hopefully. Maybe? “Good, nice work… how do you feel?”
“Little dizzy,” David admitted, wavering a hand for emphasis. “But not the worse I’ve felt. Not so bad that I think I’m going to fall, anyway…”
“That’s a good sign…” Doctor Grady confirmed, nodding. “Okay so we’ll start with the basics, sort of like a sobriety test, though I’d like to think you’ve never had to take one of those,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. David said nothing. “I want you to stand with your arms out on either side and take either ten steps or until you reach the door, then walk back to this spot, can you do that?” he asked and David nodded.
“I think so, sure…” the New Jerseyite replied, holding his arms out. He started to walk and the first couple steps were okay, but he stumbled a little on the third, while crossing right leg in front of his left.
He did the same with the fifth and the doctor reached out to stop him. “Alright, that’s fine,” he said, helping steady David again and stop him from going any further. “Just quickly, can you balance on your left leg for me?” he asked, and David did as he was asked without issue, managing to balance almost without issue. “And your right?” the doctor asked and David put his right foot down, before lifting his left. This time he struggled a little more and while he did manage to keep his balance, he was far wobblier than he had been on his dominant left foot.
“He is left handed if that makes any difference, Doctor?” Regan suggested and Grady nodded.
“It can do in some cases, but I suspect that isn’t the case here,” Grady replied before turning to David again. “Alright, take a seat on the edge of the bed for me,” he added and David nodded gingerly before walking back to the bed. Once David was safely sat on the edge of it again, Grady removed his pen flashlight from the pocket of his doctor’s coat. “Okay, I’m gonna hold this up and I want you to follow it as I move it from side to side… ready?” he asked and David nodded that he was. The doctor moved it from centre to one side, then back in the opposite direction and David did his best to track the movement with just his eyes, though at one point he found himself having to try harder than normal to not move his whole head when tracking the pen to his right. “Okay, and just look forward again for me,” Grady told him, as he span the pen around and clicked the switch to turn the flashlight on. “Okay, just going to check your pupils,” he told David as he aimed the beam of light to the side of his left eye and then flicked it across the eyeball several times. He shifted to the right side and repeated the process with David’s right eye, and slowly nodded his head as he did so. “Alright, go ahead and sit back in bed,” the doctor said, happy that he’d got what he needed from the physical side of things.
“That wasn’t so bad,” David said, turning to smile at Regan, who gave him a reassuring smile in return before David turned back to the doctor. “Easier than expected, at any rate…”
“It could definitely have gone worse,” Doctor Grady admitted, nodding. “And your speech seems to be okay, no slurring as far as I can tell?”
“He was a little hazy when he first came around, mixing his words a little or not finishing sentences properly,” Regan admitted, wanting the doctor to have all the information for his diagnosis. David didn’t even attempt to try and deny it, he knew how important head injuries could be and wasn’t going to compromise his health in an attempt to get an all clear if things weren’t one hundred percent.
“Thanks for that,” Grady told her, nodding. “What about confusion? I know it must have been strange at first, waking up here after a bout of unconsciousness, but did you know who you were, remember details of how you got here, that sort of thing?”
“Sort of,” David admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, as he tried to concentrate on his answer.
Fortunately, Regan came to his rescue. “He knew who he was and how he got here, it was smaller details that were a little fuzzy,” she told the doctor, helpfully. “He knew he’d been in a crash, but didn’t remember that it was a tree he hit, just that he hit something. He also remembered the colour of the car he swerved to avoid but not the make or model, that kind of thing.”
“Well that’s promising at least,” Grady said, smiling as he turned back to David. “Any vomiting? Any nose bleeds or bleeding from elsewhere since you came around?” he asked and David shook his head straight away. He obviously couldn’t speak for while he was out, and would be surprised if his nose hadn’t been bleeding from the airbag deploying in his face during the crash, but since waking he’d not noticed anything of the sort. “Okay… well, I’m fairly certain that I can more or less confirm you suffered a concussion during the accident, David. Your dizziness and slight balance issues, the way you keep rubbing your temples and the abnormal pupil reactions from the light sensitivity test, I think I can say with certainty at this point that we can confirm concussion symptoms…”
“Yeah, I think I already accepted that much,” David admitted, once again nodding his head despite knowing it was a bad idea. “How bad we talking, doc?”
“It’s not insignificant, I can at least confirm that much,” Grady told them both as he placed his flashlight pen back in the pocket of his coat. “The swelling on the brain is a concern, and I’d have been happier if some of the tests you just did came back a little more positive… but as with concussion, time will be what truly tells. I don’t see any reason to keep you here much longer, I’ll say that much,” the doctor said, picking up David’s chart and checking on something before appearing satisfied. “But, and I can’t stress this enough David, you need rest and relaxation when you leave here. I’m going to insist on a few weeks at least, while we assess the healing process, and of course I’m duty-bound to notify your employers even if you don’t want to do that…”
“No, no that’s fine doc, I get it,” David said, already resigned to the fact that that would be happening anyway. He wasn’t an idiot and knew it would mean time away from the ring, from training even. Unfortunately, he also knew that there would be repercussions from him having to do that too, which weren’t just unfortunate, but soul destroying. “I’ll be on my best behaviour, even if it’s going to suck…”
“As is life, unfortunately,” the doctor said with a chuckle. “Okay, I’ll get the paperwork started and we’ll see about getting you out of here as quickly as possible... but I want to see you again in a couple of days for a follow up, is that okay?” he asked.
“Anything you need, doc,” David told him, happy to jump through whatever hoops were needed in order to get out of there.
“Alright, I’ll go get the paperwork sorted,” Grady said, placing David’s charts back on the end of the bed. “Go ahead and get dressed, your things should be in the night stand. We’ll have you out of here shortly.”
“Thanks Doctor,” Regan said and David echoed her sentiments, getting smiles all round from the doctor before he took his leave. “So that could have been worse…” Regan said once he had left the room and closed the door behind him, and she grabbed a bag that David hadn’t noticed until that point from her side of his bed, placing it at his feet and opening it to reveal fresh clothes for him. “Come on, let’s get you dressed so that you’re ready when they release you…”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” David said, smiling before sighing heavily. “I just… I wish i didn’t have to consider what this probably means…”
“Means for what?” Regan asked. “You’re going to be fine, you know that right?” she added for good measure, in case David needed to hear that.
And he nodded. He knew he would be eventually, sure. He didn’t exactly think he was dying or anything. But he also knew what it probably meant for his current SCW status too. “I’m not going to be cleared to compete though,” he explained, trying not to sound too pessimistic but also want to be realistic about his situation. “Doc said a few weeks at least… there’s no way I’m going to be able to defend the title at… um…” he faltered, clicking his fingers as he tried to pluck the name from thin air as it floated around him.
“Under Attack,” Regan offered, letting him off the hook and he pointed at her, gratefully.
“Yeah, that one. Thanks,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “It’s true though, there’s no way I’m going to be able to defend the belt against Tommy and Bree if I’m out for a few weeks… which means--”
“It means what it means, but we don’t have to deal with that right now, do we?” Regan asked, cutting him off before he could go any deeper down the pit of despair that it sounded like he was going to fall into. “I’ve arranged for us to stay with Rachel for a few days at the house in Santa Monica. She’s already got Jay, which is great because it’s so close to his mom’s and Jay absolutely loves Rachel… I think he’s got a crush on her if I’m honest, but I guess he’s that sort of age, huh?” she added with a grin. “And hopefully there won’t be reporters camping outside because it’s Rachel’s house as much as it is mine at this point, even if I still own it. Should give us privacy for now anyway, until the head dies off... so come on, hurry up and get dressed so that you’re ready to actually go when you’re discharged. We can deal with the rest when it comes up, okay?” she asked, and David merely nodded. He knew Regan was right of course, that it wasn’t going to do him any good to start dwelling on just what this was going to mean for him in the coming days or weeks, because he’d do better to concentrate on his recovery and ensuring that he managed to heal back to full health. Your health wasn’t something you took risks with, not if you wanted a long and healthy life anyway. And if this was going to result in the inevitable that David feared, then so be it. What was done was already done anyway, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it now so he may as well get on with it. Now if only they could get rid of the headache that was still throbbing away as he started to get dressed, then that would be just great!
YouTube Video
Location: Helms' Home, Hollywood Hills CA
Date: 03/29/2021
We click play on the video and as we do, a small loading icon appears in the middle of the blank screen, turning slowly as the video buffers for a split second before it disappears and the video begins to play. And now that it's playing, we see Supreme Championship Wrestling star and Hall of Famer himself, David Helms, sitting in the games room of his home in the Hollywood Hills. And there’s no smile, no wave to the camera or pleasant expression on his face as he wastes no time in getting started. “I want to get some things off my chest,” he says, bringing a hand up to rub at the stubble on his face before pushing on. “I don’t think I need to explain that I’ve been around this business a long time, seen plenty of bullshit along the way that had me rolling my eyes or riled up or just flat out enraged… and I’ve dealt with my issues in various ways over the years as a result. Some that I’m proud of, some not so much…”
“But one thing that has always been an ever-present in my time in this business is that I’ve always believed in it,” he continues, taking a deep breath and exhaling heavily through his nose, flaring his nostrils. “I’ve always believed that while justice may not always happen, that good things will happen eventually… that people can always be saved or that there’s always hope. But honestly dude, sitting here right now, I’m not fucking sure there is.”
He shakes his head, clearly dejected. “I used to believe that you got what you deserve if you worked hard enough or that if you did the right thing, you’d be rewarded in the end, because we all know how much fucking harder it is to do the right thing instead of the easy one… but as I sit here right now, thinking about how much this place has changed in just the last couple years, I dunno if I believe that anymore…”
David brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, looking pensive as he continues. “I don’t know if I have belief anymore,” he says, sadness clear to hear in his voice as he continues. “I know Selena is going to be disappointed in me for that, but I’m not sure I can sit here right now and say that I honestly think that good people can get ahead by virtue of simply being good at this point. I’m not sure that attempting to do the right thing is enough to stay ahead of the curve and ensure the future looks bright. I mean, I sure as fuck haven’t always played by the rules myself lately, have I?”
“Bringing chairs to the ring, jumping Xander before our match could even get underway,” he says, bringing a finger up then a second, as if keeping count. “Not exactly Last Shadow of Hope, is it?” he asks, lowering his hand again. “I think there’s something broken about this business right now, something that needs fixing but... I honestly don’t have the answer as to what that is. I wish I did, but I simply don’t.”
“I know what I want it to be,” he says, nodding his head. “I want the answer to be people not backing down. I want it to be that good people don’t walk away, that people don’t give in to primitive desires or distractions. I want the answer to be that good people will stand up for what’s right instead of going after what’s right there on a plate… but if I’m walking out to the ring with a chair and kicking it into someone’s face just for mentioning my wife’s name, what right do I have to fucking judge?” he asks, looking disappointed in himself.
He shrugs. “Do I just accept it?” he asks, clearly at a loss for an answer. “Do I simply accept we’ve reached a point where being a good person just isn’t good enough anymore? Do I swallow my pride and accept that to get my point across or to stand up for something I have to sell my soul to the devil and stop thinking about right from wrong?” he continues to ask, taking another deep breath, closing his eyes as he exhales heavily before looking back into the camera. “I don’t want to accept that!” he says passionately.
“I don’t want to have to sit here, week in week out, talking at a camera knowing that I’m wasting my breath,” he continues. “I don’t want to sit here and half-heartedly talk about why someone is an asshole or why this person is going to get what’s coming to them, when I then walk out to the ring with a chair or jump someone backstage, because that just makes me as bad as everyone else!” he says, shaking his head. “I’m better than that... and I want this business to be better than that, dammit!”
David runs a hand over his hair as he looks at the ceiling for a moment, clearly trying to find the right words but also attempting to just compose himself. “So why am I so willing to wave goodbye to my own morals in order to make a point?” he asks before turning his attention back to the camera. “I don’t believe in the fighting fire with fire analogy, and an eye for an eye just leaves every fuck blind, so why am I walking around slapping people backstage or hitting people with fucking chairs?” he asks, genuinely looking like he doesn’t have the answers. “I’m not above the law, I know that much… and I could sit here and blame it on the aftereffects of the concussion I suffered late last year or say that the business has evolved and I’m trying to keep up, you can pick your own cliche and insert it here, it’ll still make sense… but no matter the matter the poison, it’ll still be as much of a trope too, and truth be told that shit just isn’t me and it never fucking has been!” he says, shaking his head.
“I built a career on knowing the difference between right and wrong!” David continues, a steely look in his eyes now. “I built a name for myself in this company, by seeing what lengths people were willing to go to and saying ‘You know what, I’m not going to stoop to that level’. And honestly… is the SCW of today really that different to twenty ten or twenty eleven? No. It really fucking isn’t.” he insists, shaking his head for emphasis. “People are still getting hurt. People are still doing evil things to get ahead. The only difference is that I’m five years older than I was when I retired, so why the fuck have I regressed and lost sight of who the fuck I am?” he asks, standing up now.
The scene jumps, staying in the same location, but the angle of the shot changed to reflect David now standing in the centre of the shot instead. “I’m the guy from New Jersey that said no,” Dave continues, continuing without skipping a beat. “I’m the kid who came from a broken home, had nothing and gained everything! I’m the guy who saw the state of the business and said something needs to change! Who tried to inspire change! I’m the tough son of a bitch who said I don’t care how badly you beat me down in that ring, I will always get up and keep coming after you until you either knock me the fuck out or I knock you on your ass for the one two three!” he continues, a fire blatantly lit beneath him now.
“I was the guy who stood up to Infamous, with Jake Starr and Tommy Valentine, and said enough is enough! I was the Last Shadow of Hope that went out to that ring to fight for this company, for this industry and for each and every one of you guys at home!” David continues on. “But the two thousand ten or eleven David Helms would be ashamed if he saw the man he was going to become…”
There’s a sense of guilt about the expression on David’s face, but it’s outweighed by a sense of determination as he opens his mouth to continue speaking. “...which means that twenty twenty one David Helms has some work to do, because I refuse to become another fallen hero who lost sight of who he was and turned into everything he used to loathe!”
“It’s time I remember that I once wore a metaphorical cape like a badge of honor around this place!” David continues. “I needed a kick up the ass to remind me that Last Shadow of Hope was more than just a marketing slogan or part of an old entrance video package. That it meant something to me, and to you guys at home too! It’s time to be David Helms, instead of a parody of the things that he once believed in!”
“So maybe we should dispense of the elephant in the room,” David continues, after a brief pause. “Konrad Raab,” he says, letting the name hang in the air for a moment, biting his lower lip for a second as he composes himself. “Konrad, as much as it pains me to admit it, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have done what I did, marching into your locker room and hitting you like that, even if it felt like the right reaction at the time. Obviously, I don’t need to explain how much Peyton Rice means to me, given that she was one of my students, that I watched grow into an incredible talent in the ring... so watching Minerva do what she did…” he says, before sighing and taking a moment before turning back to the camera. “But it wasn’t Konrad who attacked Peyton, was it? And doing what I did was wrong too, I hold my hands up to that.”
He holds his hands up defensively for a moment while looking apologetic. The expression doesn’t last though, wipes from his face as soon as he lowers his hands from view again. “What I should have done is waited for an opportunity such as the one I have this wednesday night before I explain exactly why people are angry with you!” he says, his apology clearly over with. “Because believe me Konrad, while you may be innocent of the actual attack, and while there may be a sense of ‘guilty by association’ about this situation, if you play with fire in life, chances are you’re going to end up getting fucking burned! You’ve heard of the expression, you made your bed now lie in it, right? I’m sure there’s some German version of it at any rate.”
“Well you didn’t just make a bed but dove headfirst into it when you kicked your wife to the curb for a younger model, bro!” he continues. “And you can talk until blue in the face about how you didn’t know Minerva was going to do what she did, but anyone who knows anything about that woman knows exactly what kind of person she is, so why the fuck are you playing shocked that she would turn out to be such a bitch?!”
“Are you honestly going to tell me that you’re shocked, bro?!” David asks, looking partially dumbfounded and partially disgusted. “You stood there in your Retribution promo, and spent approximately thirty seconds telling the world that all you did was buy Minerva a phone, not enable her or help her plan to damn near cripple someone that many people care about… and while I’m glad you at least had the balls to mention it, do you know what I didn’t hear, Konrad?”
“I didn’t once hear you say you were sorry for what happened!” he says, glaring at the camera now. “I didn’t hear you utter a single sincere word of regret that the woman you’ve been fucking could have ended a woman’s career by attacking her in her own home! I didn’t see you show even a hint of sympathy or empathy over what happened! No, all you gave a flying fuck about was clearing your own name and saying you’ll be looking for some answers. Well, you’re not going to find them with your head shoved so far up Minerva’s ass that you can see tonsils bro, so pull your head out and have a serious fucking think about why people may be just as angry with you as they are with her and her new friends!”
Helms, eyes ablaze, glares at the camera silently for several seconds, before taking a deep breath, which he lets out slowly. “The lovesick puppy routine may have been kinda cute for all of two seconds… right until the point I remind myself that you’re a fifty four year old man, acting like a fucking twelve year old with his first god damn crush!” he says, heavily critical. “My eleven year old son wasn’t this happy when he came home a few weeks ago and proudly told me Regan that he asked a girl out at school and she said yes, and that should tell you everything, about how desperate you’re coming across for the sake of some good pussy!”
“And I’m sure you’ll be uploading your own little video about how it’s more than just sex or that you’re so deeply, madly in love,” he continues, rolling his eyes at the idea. “But when someone brings it up that often, when they have to protest a fact so regularly, people start to question who you’re really trying to convince when you say that, dude! And even if you are in love, rather than just infatuated with someone because she’s younger and showed an interest, if you want people to think that it’s more than just sex then stop fucking talking about your sex life! Jesus Christ, Konrad, I have a great sex life myself, but I don’t feel like I have to cry from the god damn rooftops about it,” he says, gesturing with a hand as he does so.
Helms shakes his head. “You don’t see she’s fucking using you bro, that’s the problem,” he tells the camera, still shaking his head. “Whether it’s that love is blind, whether it’s that you’re too close to the situation to see it, I don’t know… but it seems like everyone but you can see that Minerva has her tendrils deep into you and she’s milking the situation for all it’s fucking worth. A jacket, a phone, etc… that’s fine… but how dare you stand there and say you don’t know why Minerva did what she did and that you’ll be looking for answer when you’re then paying the fucking fine dished out to her for doing it in the first place, you hypocritical, ignorant douchebag!”
“I liked you, Konrad…” he says, sadly. Emphasis on the past tense. “I gave you a shot at Retribution, put you in that scaffold match, for a reason; I put you in there because I saw a guy who as passionate as anyone about this business, and a guy who wasn’t letting age hold him back from trying to do his all to give back to it… but actions speak louder than words man, and the near-total lack of reaction to what your girlfriend did speaks fucking volumes as far as I’m concerned!”
“So go ahead and play innocent sir,” he continues, his voice levelling off and taking on an uninterested tone, not because of a lack of care, but a disinterest in excuses. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore how you’re going to try and excuse what happened. Hell, I actually hope you decide to stand by Minerva, because that just proves my fucking point. It proves that there’s something wrong with this business, that someone who has practically always stood up for what’s right can have their head turned so fucking easily through lack of conviction or easily attainable personal gain!”
Helms shakes his head, clearly disgusted. “I just hope it was worth it,” he says, with a hollow laugh. “I hope getting some was worth selling your own conscience down the river… because when the inevitable happens and Minerva walks away, having used you for all your worth before dumping your ass, I want you to think back to this moment, right here and now, and feel a deep sense of shame! I hope you look yourself in the mirror and hang your fucking head in shame for how much you let slide and how oblivious you were to everything going on around you, all for the sake of a young woman with open legs and a silver tongue!” he says angrily, shaking his head in disgust.
“Maybe… if you’re lucky… people will give you the chance to rebuild the trust they once had in you. Hell, I’ll probably give you that chance, given my own mistakes in the past, because I’ve been guilty of similar, most of us have…” he admits with a shrug before going back to glaring right down the lens of the camera. “But make no fucking mistake dude, this Thursday night? I won’t be walking to that ring with the idea of showing pity on you. I won’t be going to that ring looking to apologise a second time for slapping you a few weeks ago… I’ll be walking to that ring to knock your dick in the dirt and teach you a lesson the way it should happen in this business: inside of a god damn wrestling ring!” he says, stepping a little closer to the camera to end things. “BANG!” he yells, before simply walking out of shot, leaving the camera’s autofocus to kick in as it tries to get the scene back in focus. The video fades to black before that happens however, and the replay button appears in the middle of the screen.
