Post by Shelly Diamond on Oct 24, 2015 13:54:28 GMT
My taped up fists strike the battered heavy bag one at a time with strength, speed and anger. I see the face of my enemy, the man who decided one month ago I was not worth his time but then spent his every waking moment putting me through hell.
Mohammed Al-Thani.
I envision his smug smirk as my fists connect with the bag, feeling the sand inside move from the force the way I picture his skull fracturing Sunday Night.
It’s been too long since I’ve felt such blood lust, such raw aggression and hatred, I don’t like losing my cool but Mohammed Al-Thani has no interest in a wrestling match. He isn’t concerned with the two of us figuring out who is the better wrestler like honorable men.
No. He wishes to hurt me, he wishes to teach me a lesson and in doing so he will learn that he’s made the biggest mistake of his career.
My palms come to rest against the side of the bag, I hold myself up for a moment to catch my breath, my chest heaving with both hatred and exhaustion. I’ve been training hard for this match, perhaps too hard but I don’t want there to be a single question in anyone’s mind when the show comes to an end.
They will know what I’m capable of.
To my left there is full length mirror, a man I don’t quite recognize stares back at me, his eyes are cold yet burning with hatred, his body ripples with coiled aggression, he looks like a venomous snake poised to strike.
”Anger will get you nowhere.”
The words of my trainer, Alberto de la Sol, from a time long ago suddenly echo in my head as I take a step toward the dark visage in the mirror.
”It will only lead to more pain and suffering.”
He wasn’t lecturing me on wrestling but instead on something more person, more private, a loss that I almost couldn’t bare, a loss that so very nearly cost me my soul.
”If you walk that road it will only lead to darkness.”
I remember looking at him as the reflection looks at me now with a cold disregard for his words. He didn’t know or understand what I was feeling then, the depth of the rage that was boiling inside and now as I stand face to face with myself, with the darkness that lies within I know there is only one way forward.
I must unleash it.
”Akhiro…”
Her voice…
Alejandra…
My eyes close, I imagine the touch of her soft skin against mine, her elegant hands stroking my face, the feel of her soft but supple lips…
”I love you, Akhiro…”
My forbidden love… Daughter of a drug smuggler… Taken from me for something as simple and innocent as a kiss… Alberto begged me to stay away from her, warned me of what was to come…
My eyes opened. The mirror shattered. My fist covered in blood.
”I will not be a victim.”
I take a slow and measured breath.
”You’ve made a foolish mistake, Mohammed, challenging me to a falls count anywhere match, opening up the entire arena, the streets and the city itself to the brutality which is about to befall you. So very foolish.”
I push the past from my mind and focus on the present, on Mohammed Al-Thani, the man who is begging for my wrath.
”Your arrogance and your ignorance have lead you into a situation you cannot fully comprehend. If you had even the vaguest concept of what was about to happen to you you would tuck your tail between your legs and run for the hills.”
Begging to be bloodied.
”You ran from me in our first encounter like a coward, choosing personal pride over defending your dignity. You saw the writing on the wall as I was systematically pulling you apart and decided it best to fight another day. That is why you are fool, by choosing to run, by postponing the inevitable, by attacking me from behind with a pipe you have all but signed your own death certificate.”
My face is flush with anger, the sting of the pipe is still fresh in my mind.
”What did you think, Mohammed, that I was another local independent wrestler brought in to be fed to your ego, that it would be one and done? I’m curious what you felt inside when I put up a fight, when I actually started to beat you at what is supposedly your own game, was it fear? Did you fear that Imperial Wrestling’s newest acquisition was about to expose you for the inept imbecile you so clearly are? Or perhaps you felt anger as I do? Anger at your own inability to shine brighter than the rest? Anger at your abilities and lack there of?”
“Anger at the yellow streak that runs up your spine?”
“You speak of national pride and representation as if you have any real understanding of what either of those things are. Mohammed Al-Thani, if you are the best representation of your people then I believe I speak for all of Imperial Wrestling when I say I hope America turns your country into a parking lot.”
My blood is boiling.
”YOU SNIVELING COWARD!”
My fists are clenched.
”You should be afraid! You should fear me! Because all you have done by running is tempted the beast that lies within me, that lies within every man. You have tempted it to the point of foaming at the mouth and when it finally sinks it’s teeth into your flesh it will NEVER let you go!”
Blood from my wound drips on the cold granite floor.
”You ran from me, then you attacked me, then you goaded me and then you challenge me!? Mohammed Al-Thani please don’t go fooling yourself into thinking you’re a man now, the evidence to the contrary is very clear and Sunday Night when I have an entire arena at my disposal to beat you with you will know beyond all doubt that you are a tiny insignificant insect begging to be squashed!”
“Begging to die.”
“You don’t know it yet but by tempting fate as often as you have it was only a matter of time before death would come for you. You have yet in your miserable career to face someone like me, you have managed to skate by with meager wins and excusable losses but Sunday Night you are coming face to face with a man who will not be satisfied with simply beating you.”
I bring my fist up to eye level, noting the blood as it works its way down my hand to my wrist.
”I want to bleed you dry.”
Opening and closing my hand to force more blood through the wounds.
”You were right to run from me one month ago but Sunday Night there will be no where for you to hide, no way for you to escape and nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I will end you.”
I turn on my heels with all the speed of an oncoming train and connect my bloody fist with the heavy bag leaving a crimson imprint of my fist on it.
I close my eyes now, hearing once again the last words my beloved spoke to me…
”I love you, Akhiro…”
Before the screaming began. Before she was taken from me. Before the rage took over and I nearly lost myself. I risk losing myself again Sunday Night inside that arena, I risk losing my soul…
But to hear Mohammed scream will be worth it.
Mohammed Al-Thani.
I envision his smug smirk as my fists connect with the bag, feeling the sand inside move from the force the way I picture his skull fracturing Sunday Night.
It’s been too long since I’ve felt such blood lust, such raw aggression and hatred, I don’t like losing my cool but Mohammed Al-Thani has no interest in a wrestling match. He isn’t concerned with the two of us figuring out who is the better wrestler like honorable men.
No. He wishes to hurt me, he wishes to teach me a lesson and in doing so he will learn that he’s made the biggest mistake of his career.
My palms come to rest against the side of the bag, I hold myself up for a moment to catch my breath, my chest heaving with both hatred and exhaustion. I’ve been training hard for this match, perhaps too hard but I don’t want there to be a single question in anyone’s mind when the show comes to an end.
They will know what I’m capable of.
To my left there is full length mirror, a man I don’t quite recognize stares back at me, his eyes are cold yet burning with hatred, his body ripples with coiled aggression, he looks like a venomous snake poised to strike.
”Anger will get you nowhere.”
The words of my trainer, Alberto de la Sol, from a time long ago suddenly echo in my head as I take a step toward the dark visage in the mirror.
”It will only lead to more pain and suffering.”
He wasn’t lecturing me on wrestling but instead on something more person, more private, a loss that I almost couldn’t bare, a loss that so very nearly cost me my soul.
”If you walk that road it will only lead to darkness.”
I remember looking at him as the reflection looks at me now with a cold disregard for his words. He didn’t know or understand what I was feeling then, the depth of the rage that was boiling inside and now as I stand face to face with myself, with the darkness that lies within I know there is only one way forward.
I must unleash it.
”Akhiro…”
Her voice…
Alejandra…
My eyes close, I imagine the touch of her soft skin against mine, her elegant hands stroking my face, the feel of her soft but supple lips…
”I love you, Akhiro…”
My forbidden love… Daughter of a drug smuggler… Taken from me for something as simple and innocent as a kiss… Alberto begged me to stay away from her, warned me of what was to come…
My eyes opened. The mirror shattered. My fist covered in blood.
”I will not be a victim.”
I take a slow and measured breath.
”You’ve made a foolish mistake, Mohammed, challenging me to a falls count anywhere match, opening up the entire arena, the streets and the city itself to the brutality which is about to befall you. So very foolish.”
I push the past from my mind and focus on the present, on Mohammed Al-Thani, the man who is begging for my wrath.
”Your arrogance and your ignorance have lead you into a situation you cannot fully comprehend. If you had even the vaguest concept of what was about to happen to you you would tuck your tail between your legs and run for the hills.”
Begging to be bloodied.
”You ran from me in our first encounter like a coward, choosing personal pride over defending your dignity. You saw the writing on the wall as I was systematically pulling you apart and decided it best to fight another day. That is why you are fool, by choosing to run, by postponing the inevitable, by attacking me from behind with a pipe you have all but signed your own death certificate.”
My face is flush with anger, the sting of the pipe is still fresh in my mind.
”What did you think, Mohammed, that I was another local independent wrestler brought in to be fed to your ego, that it would be one and done? I’m curious what you felt inside when I put up a fight, when I actually started to beat you at what is supposedly your own game, was it fear? Did you fear that Imperial Wrestling’s newest acquisition was about to expose you for the inept imbecile you so clearly are? Or perhaps you felt anger as I do? Anger at your own inability to shine brighter than the rest? Anger at your abilities and lack there of?”
“Anger at the yellow streak that runs up your spine?”
“You speak of national pride and representation as if you have any real understanding of what either of those things are. Mohammed Al-Thani, if you are the best representation of your people then I believe I speak for all of Imperial Wrestling when I say I hope America turns your country into a parking lot.”
My blood is boiling.
”YOU SNIVELING COWARD!”
My fists are clenched.
”You should be afraid! You should fear me! Because all you have done by running is tempted the beast that lies within me, that lies within every man. You have tempted it to the point of foaming at the mouth and when it finally sinks it’s teeth into your flesh it will NEVER let you go!”
Blood from my wound drips on the cold granite floor.
”You ran from me, then you attacked me, then you goaded me and then you challenge me!? Mohammed Al-Thani please don’t go fooling yourself into thinking you’re a man now, the evidence to the contrary is very clear and Sunday Night when I have an entire arena at my disposal to beat you with you will know beyond all doubt that you are a tiny insignificant insect begging to be squashed!”
“Begging to die.”
“You don’t know it yet but by tempting fate as often as you have it was only a matter of time before death would come for you. You have yet in your miserable career to face someone like me, you have managed to skate by with meager wins and excusable losses but Sunday Night you are coming face to face with a man who will not be satisfied with simply beating you.”
I bring my fist up to eye level, noting the blood as it works its way down my hand to my wrist.
”I want to bleed you dry.”
Opening and closing my hand to force more blood through the wounds.
”You were right to run from me one month ago but Sunday Night there will be no where for you to hide, no way for you to escape and nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I will end you.”
I turn on my heels with all the speed of an oncoming train and connect my bloody fist with the heavy bag leaving a crimson imprint of my fist on it.
I close my eyes now, hearing once again the last words my beloved spoke to me…
”I love you, Akhiro…”
Before the screaming began. Before she was taken from me. Before the rage took over and I nearly lost myself. I risk losing myself again Sunday Night inside that arena, I risk losing my soul…
But to hear Mohammed scream will be worth it.
Well howdy there pardner.