It wants me to respond. It wants to make sure I’m okay. It wants to nurture me. It wants to guide me and yet it wants to push me. It wants to see how far I can go before I crack. They are necessary to see what I’m made of, but it is sending me mixed signals. I feel like I’ve lost the ability to tell my story along the way, but what are stories if no one is there to listen? I’m still trying to figure out this place through trial and error, but sometimes you need to simplify the process. I went out and made things overly complicated when I should have stuck to my guns, but I felt like it was required to prepare for Mercadier De Leon. I was out for blood for the wrong reasons; I was seeing red for the wrong reasons. I let Mercadier De Leon’s influence rub off on me. I wanted to beat him at his own game. You can boil that down to strength of character or whatever you want, but I was willing to cut the throat of God when I didn’t have to. I am no heretic like Mercadier De Leon is; I don’t have to reject my roots to find a silver lining. PCW is a land of opportunity. I won’t get lost in clichés, but I have to remind myself it’s okay to breathe. I will always go full throttle in every match I’m in and take down those who deserve it, but it shouldn’t come down to mindless chaos. PCW’s learning curve is steep and vicious. It takes time, and if you think you can just cut through every single opponent like they’re nothing, then you will end up seeing stars. I’m not a vigilante or a dark knight. I don’t guard cities. I don’t soar over the tops of skyscrapers with a cape. There is nothing supernatural in play. At the same time, I should not forget my journey here and the progress I’ve already made. I should not forget the very reason for my existence in PCW.
My sister.
For she is the light.
Her radiance has not diminished. I see her everywhere, but I don’t think she’d want me to shed The Bloodhawk. It is justified for the malefactors in PCW and in life itself. I hope she finds it in her heart to forgive me, wherever she is. I lost sight of her; I was blinded by rage. Mercadier reminded me that it was James Christ who started this avalanche, this deep-seated animosity, but I feel like he was merely the tip of the iceberg. Blind Faith was both a blessing and a curse. What is success if there is no joy in it? What is an illustrious tag team tournament when we were the very antithesis of a tag team and still beat the brakes off our opponents? When you put things in perspective, the Blind Faith tournament will prove to be a colossal waste of time if Mercadier can’t dethrone Kasey. I could make excuses. I could say I was in a one-on-three and that Salvation used the numbers game again to put Mercadier on a pedestal, but that is not me. My lapse in judgment was thinking Mercadier would have enough self-respect to call off the hounds, but a part of me knew they would get involved. Some might believe I’m letting Mercadier off the hook, but I put too much blind faith in Mercadier, and I ended up burying myself in the rubble.
Now I sit in the dark with my palms up in the air at the bottom.
Again.
Face-to-face with Kevin Hunter.
Again.
What do you do with your time down here, Kevin, besides wasting away? It is so desolate and so murky down here, but I guess you’ve grown accustomed to it by now. I’m one of the main reasons you’re down in this hole. I’ve made examples out of you. I’ve taken your best shot and scoffed at it, and what, are you going to pretend like it wasn’t a blow to your pride? The issue I have with you, Kevin, is that you, by default, automatically think PCW can be handed to you on a silver platter. You don’t want to earn it or put in the work. From day one you’ve been barking orders to the rest of EVOLVE and making absurd claims to bolster your status. Leading a bunch of cronies, including you, into battle week in and week out without the actual credentials and acumen for war, and you wonder why you’re mule-kicked in the teeth and forced to eat crow. I can see why you like it down here.
Away from humanity, devoid of goals and incentives. Still waiting to hit paydirt instead of grabbing PCW by the balls and forcing your way into the fray. That’s the difference between Sawyer and Kevin Hunter. We may be on the same playing field now, but at least I’ve proven I can get up every single time and power my way through the tangled web PCW weaves. What does Kevin Hunter do? Besides rot in this place? When opportunity knocks, you answer the door; you don’t wait for it to come in because it never will. This is your opportunity to show me something, show me a pulse, show me that Kevin Hunter belongs, show me that he isn’t some devil’s reject not even worth hell’s time.
Or don’t.
It ultimately comes down to you, but I will not relent just because Kevin Hunter is Kevin Hunter. If I have to cave your skull in one more time to claw my way back up, then so be it. If you continue to shell out porous efforts, then this will be quick.
Today at 8:26 am by 
Subject: The Devil's Reject 
