The Horror King!

Unaired Footage
Some Orphanage
Somewhere In The U.S.


I’ve been here a year… A WHOLE DAMN YEAR!!!

This orphanage is just as bad as the previous ones I’ve been in. All of which I’ve been an outsider. I’m different from everyone else, the torment from the other kids cut deep, deeper than any cut I’d done myself. I’d often just sit there and ask myself why no one wanted me, but it was obvious why no one wanted me. No one wanted the emotionally detached from the world child. I scared people, but not as much as I scared myself. I wasn’t sure what I was capable of anymore.

As I sat in my room, I looked out of the window, the winter sky is a widow’s sky, bedarkened, and weeping. The clouds are churlish and Kraken-cruel. They cough out great gouts of water and thunking balloons of sopping moisture. It teems down in a biblical deluge, the sort to flood rivers, drown the fields, and overflow dams. I was taken in by the darkness from outside, almost as if the widow’s sky, bedarkened and weeping was drawing me in. Like it was trying to flood my memory, drown them out and lead my anger to overflow.

Turning to the desk beside me, I look at the ax I feel I was drawn into finding. A dark and twisted smile appearing on my face as I remember the day I found it. I was just walking around, walking around aimlessly in the woods, when I was just drawn to the abandoned hut. The hut was in the dark, damp and dreary woods, the sort of scenery that would scare a ten-year-old, but I wasn’t just some ordinary ten year old. I was a messed up ten-year-old, even at eleven years old now, I’m messed up.

Next to the ax, was a sharp-looking knife, dried blood on it, as once again the dark and twisted smile appeared on my face. Picking up the knife, the light from the candle in my room, the only source of light glistening against the blade. Looking down at my arms, you can see previous scars, clearly, from the knife, I held in my hand. The first cut I did hurt the most, but now it was just satisfying to cut my arm. It helped soothe that unwanted voice in my head, the voice that’d tell me I wasn’t wanted, that I was abandoned for that reason, and the names from the other kids playing over and over.


Gripping the knife tighter, the anger within me hard to contain as I put the blade to my skin, slowly cutting it. I watch as the cut starts to bleed, the blood running down my arm, a welcoming sight to me as I slump down to the floor, my back leaning against the wall as I do. The voices just jabbing at me, like a boxer in the ring, I felt like with every blow I was fading out. Taking the knife from my skin, I just let out a burst of manic laughter that echoes throughout the room as I cut my arm once again.

“Go away!” That’s all I can muster up to say as I fade in and out of consciousness, the words finally doing what I say and going away.

I must have lost consciousness, for how long, I’m not sure. Coming too, I looked down at my arm, finally, it had stopped bleeding. It was covered in blood, dry blood at that. Beside me on the floor was a pool of my blood. I clearly wasn’t out for long as the candle which was the source of light was still alight. Picking the knife up, I placed it down with such care, making sure it went in its rightful place next to my ax.

Getting to my feet, I walked into the bathroom, running the cold tap, there was no point even thinking about using the hot tap, there was never any hot water in this orphanage. Placing my arm under the cold water, I smile as I see the water turned red by the blood, I stand there watching it run freely through the plughole. Eventually, when the water was running clear, I turned the tap off, and then grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my arm.

Walking over to my bed, the only thing in the room along with a wardrobe for my clothes, clothes which had no color or style to them at all. There was nothing but black and dull clothing in it, I always wandered around dressed like death. Most avoided me, but there were two boys, they would always try to provoke me. I’ve been a good boy though, I haven’t harmed or even gone as far as to set them on fire… YET!

Laying down on my bed, the towel still wrapped around my arm, I stare up at the ceiling. Having managed to fend off the voices, for now, I was hoping I’d get some rest. Yet being an insomniac, sleep was a rarity to me. I often just laid there, insane thoughts running through my mind, the kind of thoughts that’d give people nightmares, yet thoughts I’d lay there and enjoy.

Often, I’d think about the time when I was eight years old, standing outside my home in Maidstone, Kent watching it burn. I knew my parents were in the house when I caused the fire, but I still stood there and watched it burn to the ground. The fire brigade, police, and ambulance service all turned up. Even at eight years old I was strong for my age and it took several police officers to subdue me and drag me away from my enjoyment of watching everything burn.

Tossing and turning in bed, I couldn’t get comfy as I got up and sat at the bottom of my bed, I started watching the candle burn. The candle only had several minutes left to burn, but just looking at something burn put me at ease. Even at eleven years old I was classified as a psychopath, I’d often have to talk to therapists and other people, who often found me too much to handle. I got thrown from pillar to post, every couple of weeks having to talk to a different therapist.

Unwrapping the towel from my arm, I throw it to the floor, looking down at my handy work with the knife. Seeing my scars didn’t make me feel guilt or sorrow, but made me felt comfort in seeing them. Whether it was to get rid of the voices or just for my pleasure, I’d end up with a new cut on my arms at least every week to two weeks.

Being locked in my room at the orphanage was the safest thing, not for me, but for everyone else it was safer. The only time I was allowed out was to eat and attend my therapy sessions. Therapy sessions that started as part of a group, but soon turned to me having to be on my own, one on one. Everyone around me here at the orphanage was just as crazy, well that’s what I thought anyway. But, for the safety of them and their mental health problems, I was kept away from their sessions. I was told that I was more of a hindrance to them than I was a help, but they just misunderstood me, EVERYONE misunderstood me.

As the candle burned out, I let out a loud sigh. I decided that once again it was time to try and sleep. Even if I got an hour I’d be happy, but usually, that’s the most I’d get at a time, my personal best is two hours. Crawling up my bed from the bottom, I once again lay down, now in the darkness, the only place I felt at my safest.

Finally drifting off to sleep...


Aired Footage
DJ’s Dungeon
Sanford, Florida

I’d just arrived outside DJ’s Dungeon, no it’s not some sex place, but a wrestling training gym. One that was run by a guy who took me in at the age of seventeen, a guy who was like a father figure to me. In fact, the only guy I’d ever been able to see as one too. He didn’t throw me out when times started to get tough, he found ways to overcome it.

I pulled up into the space reserved for me there, I was part of the furniture there now. When I wasn’t there training with DJ, I’d be there helping him out by training others. DJ’s Dungeon wasn’t a place for someone with a weak heart or with an ego that couldn’t be checked. If it was DJ putting egos in check at the gym, it’d be me doing so.

Stepping out of my car, I closed the door behind me and pressed the button on the key fob to lock it. DJ had told me to meet him here at the gym, something about making sure I was ready for my match in Project Honor. Usually, the wife and daughter would come with me, Annabelle my daughter saw DJ as her grandpa and loved him as much as I did, if not more to be honest. I’d dropped my daughter and wife off at the mall though and they were going to meet me here at DJ’s Dungeon.

Walking into the training gym, I could hear music playing, well if you can call it music, it was too upbeat and happy for my liking. When I walk in, I see DJ dancing away and singing along to what I could only describe as outdated music.

“I heard somebody say
Burn, baby, burn, disco inferno
Burn, baby, burn, burn that mother down
Burn, baby, burn, disco inferno
Burn, baby, burn, burn that mother down”

Still not having been noticed as I stood there, trying to hide my laughter, I grab my phone from my pocket and start recording him. After several minutes, DJ finally sees me and tries to hide seeing the phone in my hand.

“Don’t worry, I saw enough.” I switched off the music he was listening to, well the sorry excuse for music.

I end up putting on my Leo Moracchioli playlist. The covers he did, made everyday dull songs into music good for the soul. Music I could enjoy, and music that would get me ready for a fight. Training between DJ and I was like any other training you’d see, It would often end up with us both broken in the ring, and blood, lots of blood.

“You better delete that footage.” DJ snarls at him.

“Not going to happen. Don’t want to get caught, listen to actual music and you’d have nothing to worry about.” I laughed, chucking my gym bag onto the floor.

Getting into the ring, DJ was already there. I was met by a kick to the gut followed by the laughter of DJ.

“Expect the unexpected kid.” He says, going for a suplex.

Managing to block the suplex, I pushed him away and hit him with a Yakuza Kick. I back away and lean against the turnbuckle giving him a chance to recover.

“You didn’t expect the unexpected though.” I say trash talking to him a little. “I have my debut against Alex Kincaid in Project Honor. It seems that he is the first sacrifice that they need taken care of, and who better than I, right?”

Shaking his head to get his wits about him, DJ gets to his feet and leans against the opposite turnbuckle to me. “The first of many. I’ve seen this Alex kid, I’ve studied the tapes, and I have a few suggestions for you. The main one being, make an example out of him!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll burn the building down, not physically because that’d be frowned upon, and they haven’t done anything to deserve it… Yet!” My laughter echoes. “I plan on toying with Alex, picking him apart, bit by bit. When he's least expecting it, I’m going to lock in The Silent Scream, and that will be goodnight for him. Now, I’m not underestimating him as I’m sure he’ll put up a fight, but we both know that’s just how I like it, someone putting up a fight before they’re slaughtered in that ring.”

“Just promise me that you won’t hurt him too badly.” DJ smiles.

“You know that’s a promise I can’t make. Especially when I’m going to step into that ring with the full intentions of ripping his intestines out and choking him with them. Now I can promise you I won’t set him on fire, because I’m pretty certain as much as I’d enjoy doing so, no one else would enjoy seeing it.” That trademark sick and twisted smirk appears on my face. “The smell of burning flesh is so satisfying though.”

“You’re a monster.” DJ laughed.

It was from there that DJ and I went back and forth sparring. Well, our kind of sparring was different from anyone else, we’d fight until we couldn’t fight anymore. For a while, we kept going, even with the blood flowing down both our faces. It wasn’t until the music went off that we stopped, looking over to see my beautiful wife Magdalena Eville and our beautiful daughter Annabelle Eville.

Looking at both DJ and me, my wife just shakes her head at the state of us, but she knew deep down this was how we did things. Whereas Annabelle, she’d taken her opportunity to run in the ring, look at me with a creepy looking smile before kicking DJ square in the balls. Both my wife and I start laughing as DJ falls to the mat in agony.

“Damn! She kicks harder than you Pyro.” Even after a kick in the balls, DJ was still able to be an ass.

I got out of the ring leaving Annabelle and DJ in the ring. Annabelle was showing DJ some of the new things I’d taught her. Walking over to my wife, I go to kiss her, only for her to step back and shake her head. “You better go clean yourself off first then sweetheart.”

I just laughed before planting a kiss on her forehead, managing to get some of my blood on her. I notice this and run towards the locker room, trying to get away from the wrath of my wife, the scariest person ever, well along with Annabelle being one of the scariest too.

DJ and Annabelle were still fighting in the ring, DJ showing her how to perfect the skills and no doubt showing her ways to attack me when he wasn’t around. I make it into the locker room and think I’m safe, only to see my wife standing at the locker room door.

“Sweetheart, get cleaned up, you owe me dinner!” She chuckled before heading back out to where DJ and Annabelle were.

“Alex Kincaid… Be afraid, be very afraid. I’m coming for you, and it’s going to be more pain than you’ve ever experienced before.” With that said, I head off to clean up.


Unaired Footage
Sanford, Florida
The Eville Household

Once again, I’d fallen asleep on the couch, tossing and turning all night. I wake up disoriented and frantic. Having had a nightmare, my body felt like it had been triggered into fight-or-flight, my heart was beating fast, almost like it was trying to rip its way out of my body. Sitting up on the couch, I was alert and ready to act to defend myself. Yet, there wasn’t anything I had to defend myself from.

I needed to calm down, so I managed to get to my feet and make my way into the kitchen. Once I was in the kitchen, I opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice from it, freshly squeezed the day before. Unscrewing the cap, I took a couple of swigs from it, something my wife hated me doing, but what she didn’t see, wouldn’t hurt right?

After I was done, I screwed the cap back up on the orange juice and placed it back into the fridge. Walking over to the sink, I turn the cold tap on, placing my hands under it before splashing the water onto my face. Still trying to get my bearings about me, especially after dreaming about cutting myself and being back in the orphanage. It felt like it was real and I was back there, but the whole time I’d just been asleep.

Finally, I make my way back into the lounge, sorting out the couch before heading upstairs. When I got to one of the rooms upstairs, I looked into it, seeing my six-year-old daughter Annabelle Carrie Eville. She looked so adorable and peaceful as she slept, yet don’t let that innocence fool you, she was a little monster and with the sass of her mother. Walking into the bedroom, I leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead and tucked her in as the cutest smile appeared on her face.

Carefully and quietly, I exit her bedroom and head towards mine and my wife’s bedroom. She too looked comfortable and peaceful. I made sure not to make any noise as I walked into the bedroom, waking my wife up would be murder. My wife and daughter are the only two people I’m scared of and will ever be scared of. They’re the only two people that matter to me, without them, I’d be out of control.

I managed to get into bed beside my wife Magdalena Eville without waking her, but as I laid down, it was clear she knew I was there. She laid her head on my chest as I put my arm around her, the same smile on her face as my daughters when I planted a kiss on her forehead. I was so thankful for my wife and daughter, both have made me a better person, outside of the ring anyway. Inside of the ring, I was still the same fearless, scary monster I’d always been and the best thing was, my daughter and wife enjoyed watching me be just that. It wasn’t long before I started to drift off back to sleep, especially since I was right where I needed to be, by my wife, my savior, and my life along with my daughter.