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Ricky Desmond · **07-31-2013, 08:56 AM**

Ricky awakes from a hazy sleep, sweat pouring down his face and chest. He is gasping for air in the middle of his bed. Sitting up and leaning against the wall behind he stares at the chair opposite where an image of Isabella appeared. She did not look beautiful or stunning as she normally did. She was weary, drained, zombie like and wearing a hospital patient gown. She had a breathing mask on and she stared directly at Ricky. Her breaths were desperate and she had to hold her throat in order to mummer cruel words.

“How could you do this to me Ricky? I loved you more than anything else on this earth and you killed me. You pulled the plug, gave up on me. Your prison sentence was never enough punishment for what you have done. Unforgiving, torturous and cruel. Behind all that money and all of that tough guy attitude is nothing other than a coward and a murderer.

It's cute that you have found another hobby though, wrestling. A new love for you to fantasise over. However, ultimately Ricky you will fail at wrestling just like you failed me. The suffering has only just begun though and I am glad that you understand that. This pain will become more than pain but rather torture. So a new passion for you to fail at. Just don't let the rest of your friends down like you did me.”

“I did it because I loved you.”

“Yes Dr. Quinn was right wasn't he? He's a doctor so he must have been right. You killed me with your love Ricky, it doesn't matter if it was due to love that you did what you did. You still did it. You still pulled the plug. If even you did not believe I could survive then what was the point? The one man who was supposed to love me gave up on me just like that.”

This time Ricky really woke up. Sweat pouring down his face and chest. He is gasping for air in the middle of his bed. Sitting up and leaning against the wall behind he stares at the chair opposite where the image of Isabella previously sat with that torturous face that made his stomach churn. She did not sit their now though, Ricky desperately drunk from the glass on his bedside table, the whisky burned the back of his throat but he enjoyed that. The morning had come and he knew that later on he wanted to send a final message to his opponents in the gauntlet match. He brushed his hands over his face to clear the sweat. His morning voice was croaky as he spoke to nothing but the gloom, the emptiness and the eeriness. Still staring at the empty chair he mumbled words he truly believed.

“I did it because I loved you.”

These words seemed to become tantalizing and haunting at the same time as their use was becoming more frequent, more repetitive and more draining.

Ricky eventually got out of bed, showering, brushing his teeth, clicking his left knuckles and taking the time to pick out what to wear. He picked out blue smooth trousers, a white tee shirt and a grey blazer. As he prepared to send a final message he spent a long time making perfect. He set the fire up, and began to sip whisky. He places a pin on his sleeve. Frederick strolls in and begins to roll the camera. Ricky stares into the fire that beams on his face. The fire crackles and spits small flames into the air. The shot is truly atmospheric and he begins to talk intensely. His soft voice forces blood to tingle.

“Tonight is the night that I finally make the statement that has so far been failing. Griffin defeated me last week, humiliating me and putting a rapid end to my plan. My plan of destruction, my plan of victory. However, tonight is the night the plan reboots.

I am going through a very tough time in my life but it will ultimately lead to a fiercer, stronger leader of the Connection in Ricky Desmond.

Christine Nash I would like to send another message to you. You have this constant dribble and I am talking about the words you speak not the gunk coming from your lady parts.

Rise, rise, rise and revolution? The only thing rising is my career and Crimson Dong's cock. The Connection are on their way to glory and you should be on the way to either the super market or the kitchen. Or have we got another case of Ursula Areano? A woman who doesn't realise her place, cooking food for her superiors.

You see since my trauma with women I find it difficult to respect those who believe they can really fight with men when it is blatantly obvious that this is just not true. You will be doing your make up whilst we lift weights. You go on trips to the zoo whilst we train and train. A revolution is in the midst but it has nothing to do with Christine Nash.

Salvator was right in what he said though. There will be scars and there will be blood and there will be bruises. Xtreme rules is something I am really looking forward to. I would put my body through absolute agony to succeed tonight and obviously that is something that I am going to do. The people who step in the ring with me will be put through complete and utter torture.

My office in the janitor's closet Peter Lake? You are proving my point more and more. You do not know me. I own a billion pound business and my office is probably larger than whatever you have for a house.

Lake you need to lower your tone and strengthen your argument because right now you're making a fool of yourself. I pray to god I beat the other 7 people before you so that I can beat you to a pulp.

It's good to see that Kronus has finally come out from under his rock to confront me. I do not need my connection friends to throw you around like a rag doll Jack. It is good that I get to fight you first because it means I can preserve my energy for the rest of the gauntlet because we both know that you're a push over in that ring. It is even surprising that you are in the match, I mean do you really deserve any opportunity at all?

After all you are less than useless in the ring and you're less than interesting on the microphone. So this will be both painful and humiliating...

Everyone in this match knows that one on one they stand no chance. You are all just lucky that you may have a worn out and weakened Ricky Desmond to fight...

The inevitable will happen though and I will walk away with an opportunity at Stevie Tyler's belt. An opportunity that is needed so that The Connection can finally show just how damn good we are.

I need this and I will get this.”

Ricky strokes his chin with a smirk on his face as the camera shot comes to an end.

Epilogue. Credit to: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/agony-11/

I lost my arm, a leg; the head
Of once my brother fell to me.
I caught it with a scream caressed with
Bowels, anointed with our blood –
Arterial – of crimson zest –
Ethereal in oxygenation.

My mother whined a haunting dirge
Of ‘Why? ’ and ‘Will this never end? ’
I answered with my bluing lips
And gurgles of antiphony.

Dying in our agony,
We make a sorry nation.

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