Red. The mat should be grey shouldn't it? One betrayal shouldn't turn the mat the color of the ropes. There in the center, the source of it all. The, my, once vibrant, lively, little anti-diva drowning in a pool of her own sweet blood. The smell floods his nose, look at him drool, but Adam holds off. I look around, eyes wide, millions of them, why? Shock? Fear? Maybe both. Silence, maybe that's what I notice most, no chants, no commentary, no announcers, just silence. Silence and a strained gargling of her drowning on her own blood. I reach out, only third to her side, Shane and Stephanie are faster, but not by much. He lifts her head and asks, begs her to speak. "I love you," he cries. But only the drowning sound in return. "Good-bye little ledged." Shawn mummers. Yes good-bye my Hellion. The sound stops and I lower her eyes. Amy and Stacy try to mop her up, make her look normal. Chris lifts her from Shane's arms and starts backstage, dripping her lifeblood.
Across the screen on the WWE site read, "Horror Strikes Madison Square Garden" the article, "An unprovoked attack leaves our women's champion, DeathStrike, dead in the ring." But it wasn't, my eyes glow as another dies for my sin. But into my locker room comes, her, my rookie, just the same? Thirty times this month as the screen goes black. And I hear her voice pure and dark. "Lets go kill um Vic." Goddess if you knew how we'd regret that. But maybe this time I'll be fast enough. Fast enough to stop her, my, your, OUR death.