The lights above the ring were h o t, beat down upon Colby’s bared shoulders with all the furry of the sun.
The chair in his hands was so, so h e a v y. Was a weight he didn’t want to hold and yet, he had no choice, could hear the whisper of Vince’s voice against the shell of his ear: you’re going to TURN. It should have been Jon, was built up to be Jon turning.
It wasn’t going to be Jon.
Heavy, so, so HEAVY.
His brothers took a step forward and Colby let the mask of Seth Rollins fall over him, took a step back and someone in the crowd cried out just as he swung the chair, heard the crack it made against Joe’s back, felt the shock of the blow tingle his fingers.
Stone face, he turned to Jon and he wished he didn’t; the look of b e t r a y a l would always haunt Colby.
A shot to the stomach and then, the chair was cracking across Jon’s back. The rest of the spot was a blur, the only solid thing was Paul’s hand gripping his neck, the arm coiled heavy and thick around his shoulder.
Heavy.
As Colby slipped from the ring and made his way to the back, the mask slipping and silence greeting him backstage, Colby felt so, so heavy.
@chaosbleeding & @leatijosephanoai
