Other times you will have people who thrive on the encouragement of others, they are pushed on by seeing exactly how well those around him are doing. They see that they aren't being held down in their lives and career and maybe there are personal problems which need to be addressed first of all, before they are able to drive forwards and then achieve what they wanted.
Sometimes it will just be a throwaway comment which is enough to motivate and encourage a man, it could be something as simple as a little league coach trying to find the encouragement to spur his team on to victory, or sometimes it will be something so little and inconsequential, that when it was first said there was no danger in what was said.
However words carry an awful lot more weight than they normally should especially when the person involved is over analysing everything, every word that he hears he runs through his mind tracing for hints of sarcasm or sincerity.
'The Ethan Frost...' The words lingered in the air, as they were spat out with spite and venom. The words themselves did belong to Ethan Frost, who was sat quite alone. The room he was sat in was Spartan to say the least, it was stripped of everything that made a room, there was nothing to draw attention to, nothing that could be linked to another person, it was a room meant for just two things, living and survival.
'The Ethan Frost, who the hell is he trying to kid.' This had been going on for sometime, the same sentence being repeated over and over again. Ethan Frost had been informed of exactly what his latest opponent Matthew Randall, a simple comment, which had probably been intended as something of a compliment, hell Matthew Randall was a nice guy, everyone had mentioned how down to earth he was, how he was just another young kid who was looking to make his break in the industry.
The point being that Matthew Randall did not mean any harm to Ethan Frost, the two were scheduled to face at FUSE on ESPN, but that was it, it was a match that should have contained no malice, no degree of anger or aggression, just a good old fashioned wrestling match where the better man won.
Frost did not see it like that though, simply because Frost did not know who he was anymore, his mind was elsewhere.
'THE ETHAN FROST!' Frost shouted out loud to the world in general, but no-one replied, no one ever replied, he never got the answers he was looking for. He was always searching for something and at this moment in time he was looking for himself and his best friend, who had such a connection together. When Frost looked back on his time in FUSE the only times he was truly happy was when he had his companion Fred Fusion.
Someone had been playing him, someone had been trying to convince him that Fred Fusion was coming back and what irritated Frost most was that it was working. Every time that Frost was coming to terms with the fact that Fred was never coming back, that his friend was long gone, someone would throw him a bone, a link to the past and to Fred. It was someone that knew Fred and knew Ethan, someone that was able to get into his head and touch the memories of the past. A past that was gone, a past that should be exactly that, the past.
As much as it hurt Ethan, as much as he didn’t want to accept the fact, as much as he didn’t want to admit to it, he was willing to accept it, he knew that Fred Fusion was gone and that he was not coming back. Frost had not heard from Fred in months, part of him wondered if he was even alive, this simply wasn’t like Fred in the slightest, sure Fred had trouble working an answering machine and e-mail was something scary and magical. There was ways of contacting though and Fred had not made any efforts at all.
Even if he wasn’t physically…
Fred was dead to Ethan.
With regards to himself it simply was not going well and Matthew Randall had not helped the situation. Ethan Frost was a name that did not warrant the prefix of THE, there was nothing THE about him in the slightest. If you looked around the FUSE roster, it was filled with talent, with greats. Names that deserved the Prefix THE.
THE Seymour Almasy
THE Clinton Sage
THE Amy Campbell
They were names that were synominous with success and draped in history, they were names that were truly great. Not once did Ethan Frost ever think that he deserved a title, hell he didn’t even have the self-esteem to give himself a nickname, he was just plain old Ethan Frost, the man who’s only claim to fame in FUSE was a 7 day Livewire Title run, not exactly the thing that greatness was made of.
“Who was he trying to kid? The poor lad knew nothing about the business, he’s coming in here with a pocket full of dreams and a go get em attitude, it just doesn’t work though. Hell I was the most enthusiastic person there was in UWF, I was younger, full of spirit I was happy. Then the losses came a long, week upon week of defeat at the hands of Foster Nackedy. The work load, the schedule gets too much and suddenly your dream job doesn’t seem like a dream job anymore.
The point was that Ethan Frost was now just another name, another guy who just worked to get along, to pay the bills. It wasn’t a passion that drove him on anymore, it was a mortgage. Hell look exactly where he was on the card for one of FUSE’s biggest cards lately, being sent to warm up a new guy, someone who would no doubt be pushed ahead of him in a number of weeks. Whilst Frost was silent ticking through matches and clocking up the wins.
It wasn’t just paranoia kicking through either, it was something that was very very real. A prime example of this was Carson Riley, a new guy who had not had the best of starts in FUSE, losing to Ethan Frost along the way and yet had some how managed to get himself into a tag match with two legends. Cruz and Almasy.
It just made no sense at all. Carson Riley had lost and lost and lost but for some reason the management loved him and was praising him to high heaven, rewarding him with high calibre matches. Whereas Frost was given newbie fodder, he was better than that . He really was. The passion had been lost though and until he found that drive and that determination. Frost would be languishing around the lower card for a long long time.
As the thoughts flowed freely through his mind Frost let out and audible sigh and fell the floor sitting down against one of the walls brining his knees up tightly to his chest, interlocking his fingers around his legs, just curling him up as small as possible.
“THE Ethan Frost, yeah right Randall, I’m just a joke that’s all I am. A joke.”.
~~~
'So what do you think Dr Jenkins?' a small spectacled man peering over a clipboard with numerous papers on it stared at Dr Jenkins who had become lost in her own world, throughout the entire evaluation she had not said a word, she had just watched him, watched every move he had made. The shapes his body had made, the pain on his face. All she could think of was exactly how much she wanted him, how she wanted to protect him, help him and love him.
Dr Jenkins had been assigned as his psychiatrist whilst he was in prison and she saw a good man in him. A good man with a lot of money, but that was a bonus of course. She knew from day one that Ethan had potential to be something greater than he was, to overcome the problems that he felt he faced and were beginning to consume him. However her decisions soon made her realise something which scared her. As much as he felt that his life was maintained by the drugs and the self harm. Claire Jenkins was beginning to realise that her life was maintained by seeing Ethan, it broke every ethical code and moral fibre in her body, but she had been intentionally diagnosis Frost wrong, ensuring that she would be able to see him more and more.
'Dr Jenkins?' the man in the labcoat repeated as he tried to get some form of reply from his colleague. There was another moments silence as Dr. Jenkins spent another few seconds looking at Frost before turning to her colleague clutching her own clipboard tightly against her chest.
'Sorry, I was miles away there. Mr Frost is still clearly showing signs of irrational behaviour and unable to distinguish reality from his own mind. He is showing an extremely volatile edge to his nature that hasn't been shown before, as a result I am torn, and part of me believes that what would be effective for him is being admitted briefly so we can observe him more closely.
'Ok Claire, I’ll get the paper work sorted to admit him over night where we can monitor him.'
'Wait...that was only one option. I think we should let him go, this volatile edge would simply fester and grow within him, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time with Mr Frost and firmly believe that he would be able to convince us of what he wanted us to think. However if we were to let him release his anger in a more controlled environment it might be more beneficial in the long run.'
'Claire, we both know his profession, he works in such a manner that if your theory is wrong, he could kill someone, he wouldn't necessarily mean to, he might not even know what he is doing, but the true and scary fact of the matter is that someone could die as a result of this decision.
'I have made my decision Scott, we release him and monitor him that way, he's always come in for sessions with us, he's never tried to fight us at all, how would it look if we take him in now, tie him up and watch him like a hawk? The trust and rapport that we have built up would all be for nothing, we just have to trust ourselves, but more importantly we have to trust Ethan, I mean Mr Frost.”
Scott shook his head as Claire spoke her words and threw his arms in the air as if to disagree but knowing in his heart that there was nothing further that he would be able to do.
Scott turned away and left Dr Jenkins at the observation window, who had turned back to look at Frost again who was still sat down his head buried into his chest, she couldn’t tell whether or not if he was crying, but in her head he was. In her head she would be able to stride in there, take him in her arms and hold him tightly. She would rest his head against her shoulder and stroke his head, whilst whispering in his ear that everything was going to be ok.
But she didn’t know if it would, not really.
Ethan Frost was on the edge of the precipice and she was holding on to him. His life was literally in her hands, but she didn’t know if she was going to pull, or push.