The chair looked to be fitting to Cyrus' ass, as though he hadn't moved in days, and had you been able to smell, the smell of urine was a dead give away. He had been motionless... without any sleep, the bags under his eyes a testament to that. Cyrus was disturbed, it was obvious the voices were starting to take over. He hurt. Not physically. There was nothing harmed in that Tables, Ladders and Chairs match that we last saw him in... he hurt mentally. The pain he felt with the voices in his head, he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to take it. Suicidal thoughts never ran through his mind before now, before... Azrael. But since the Tables, Ladders and Chairs match, Cyrus hadn't been doing much thinking. Nor eating... or drinking... Cyrus didn't catch the last Showdown, Cyrus didn't even remember he was an employee of OPW. Cyrus just... was. He existed... Or did he? He didn't exist, he was dead to the world. It was obvious that he hadn't eaten in close to, if not longer than three weeks, and only when he was forced to drink to save his life did he drink any water. He was more primal to the world than Terry Shaivo, and looked much worse. Once considered one of the most attractive men in the wrestling industry, Cyrus was suddenly one of the most disgusting, one of the scariest... one of the 'weirdos'. While Cyrus sat in that chair, looking at the Devious Cathedral, one could only wonder: What's he doing? Why isn't he moving? How long until he snaps? Has he already snapped? What has Cyrus become? What will Cyrus become? The camera panned up close to Cyrus, catching just his wide open eyes and blank state. Slowly, Cyrus' head turned... slowly... slowly... his eyes remained open... and as his head aligned with the camera, eyes still wide... the camera faded. "With eyes wide open Mushroomhead - Sun Doesn't Rise |
