Things could not have been planned more perfectly. It was a cool day out, the weather was slowly beginning to change for the fall season and I could not wait. It was one less day to worry about, and one less day left in the year. I was definitely looking forward to a brand new start and a brand new year. I’d seen my share of up’s and down’s for this year…one injury right after another. Luckily, it was nothing more then a sprained ankle and a sprained wrist, but still, it was something that set me back from attaining my goal in life; to become a champion. I recently signed with Eastern Championship Wrestling, a smaller company that was bigger then the <st1:place w:st="on">Indies</st1:place>…if that makes any sense at all. What ROH and WWE were to the <st1:place w:st="on">Indies</st1:place> and major leagues, ECW was to the in-between genre. It was large enough to support a good sized roster, but small enough to keep things calm and easier to follow. There weren’t eight stars being constantly used while all the others lingered in the background. It was the perfect size for a perfect company. And it was a place I fit with, and a group of people I fit with, quite well.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

Of course, there was one that seemed to make it his obligation to ruin things for everyone. He was like the plague of the company. He was completely focused on being the champion, being the founder of the company, being the top dog �?the head honcho and he desperately wanted to change the way the world looked at wrestlers. He wanted the age old wrestling, the old school days back in play…where the only people that were loved and respected were the ones with the talent, the passion, the heart �?the drive for this business. Not the ones with the size Triple X boobs, the platinum blonde hair and low-cut bust line, the handsome, blemish-free faces and the stern, rock hard, pecked-out bods. He wanted the days where a man could be loved and adored for what he could do in the ring, not the model-like features that he had. Where women were viewed as superior athletes because of their strength, their agility and their bravery for stepping into a “man’s world�?and not because they were bouncy, bubbly, breasty and slutty.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

This…this is where I came into play. Last week I was introduced to Dante Macabre the man. He was in the Women’s lockerroom, waiting…watching…looking for one person. He was lurking about, in an eerie, creepy fashion but, he had a hidden agenda. To find me. I’d never met the man before that day and, quite honestly, I was a little freaked out at first. He’s not some ugly monster that I should run from �?not that I would anyway. But it was extremely creepy to come into the lockerroom, expecting to shower and finding some unknown man sitting there watching, and waiting.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

He told me of this plan, this Great Manifesto, as he referred it and it was all fun and good…but I had no idea what, exactly, it had to do with me. And then, he told me. He sees the great talent in me, the fight, the drive and the passion. All the same qualities he has in himself and his ‘partner�?�?that was revealed last week on ECW’s Trash TV. He told me that it was a shame I’d had to play second fiddle to the other women that brought in to be the T&A of the company. Granted, I’ve definitely got the body to bring in millions of viewers…or, for ECW’s sake, hundreds…and I’m not too shabby of a looker, if I do say so myself. But it was the same as it was in the old “glory�?days. Blonde is beautiful and I’d never be a blonde, not even if you paid me. Some washed up, tramp ass, even more untalented version of Sable and Sunny? I don’t think so. I’d much rather be compared to Joanie “Chyna�?Laurer before the drugs and the booze and the mediocre, Indy porn then either of those two blonde has-beens. Hell, give me Victoria, Natalya and any other brunette female that had talent, then to ever compare me to the millions and millions of Trish Stratus�?that are floating around the world. Maybe it’s a stereotype, maybe it’s not…either way, I would never want to be viewed as nothing more then a hot piece of ass. I’ve trained and busted my ass since I was 12 to be in this business. It’s in my blood, it flows through my veins. It’s in my fucking DNA. I lost my mother a long time ago, wrestling comforted me in heartache and pain, and damn sure saw me through many a PMS-moment, that’s for sure. It was, to me, what a mother is to any other girl at that age, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Did I miss my mother? You bet your ass I did. But, the fact that she wasn’t around, I had the opportunity to fall back on something that has been flowing through my blood since the day I was conceived.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

My father was a wrestler �?my uncle was a wrestler. My mother was a valet in wrestling, they were famous in Mexico and Japan…and after four kids, and it was only natural that at least one of the Felix children ended up in this profession. So here I am, and I cannot wait to kick some ass and be a true representative for the entire Felix family. I’ve had my struggles and my defining moments in my career, but now was a true testament to my faith in what I do and how well I do it.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

Dante knew that, which is why he first approached me. He wanted to make sure I realized my full potential, and not have to sit side-saddled to some bleached blonde, no-talent bimbo. He didn’t want me to fall into the cracks of the walls like any other person that has come into this game with talent and ambition, all so that some Maryse Ouellette can come up and still the thunder, wear a belt that she didn’t deserve and force every other girl with actual talent to fall at her feet and praise her.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

So, he asked me to join him. To ensure I was a part of this new “movement�?this Manifesto that he wanted so badly to push. And, truth be told, I was seriously considering it. What’d I have to lose, really? Other then, perhaps, what’s left of my sanity…but other then that, nothing at all. So here I was, left to think. Would I join his little group of pioneers or would I fly solo, try and figure out my own place in this company, and risk the potential of being “lost in the crowd�? I think my fate was decided the moment that Dante walked into that lockerroom, opened his mouth and introduced me to the idea of this Manifesto. The question is…in which direction was the answer going to slide?<o:p></o:p>

Things could not have been planned more perfectly. It was a cool day out, the weather was slowly beginning to change for the fall season and I could not wait. It was one less day to worry about, and one less day left in the year. I was definitely looking forward to a brand new start and a brand new year. I’d seen my share of up’s and down’s for this year…one injury right after another. Luckily, it was nothing more then a sprained ankle and a sprained wrist, but still, it was something that set me back from attaining my goal in life; to become a champion. I recently signed with Eastern Championship Wrestling, a smaller company that was bigger then the <st1:place w:st="on">Indies</st1:place>…if that makes any sense at all. What ROH and WWE were to the <st1:place w:st="on">Indies</st1:place> and major leagues, ECW was to the in-between genre. It was large enough to support a good sized roster, but small enough to keep things calm and easier to follow. There weren’t eight stars being constantly used while all the others lingered in the background. It was the perfect size for a perfect company. And it was a place I fit with, and a group of people I fit with, quite well.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

Of course, there was one that seemed to make it his obligation to ruin things for everyone. He was like the plague of the company. He was completely focused on being the champion, being the founder of the company, being the top dog �?the head honcho and he desperately wanted to change the way the world looked at wrestlers. He wanted the age old wrestling, the old school days back in play…where the only people that were loved and respected were the ones with the talent, the passion, the heart �?the drive for this business. Not the ones with the size Triple X boobs, the platinum blonde hair and low-cut bust line, the handsome, blemish-free faces and the stern, rock hard, pecked-out bods. He wanted the days where a man could be loved and adored for what he could do in the ring, not the model-like features that he had. Where women were viewed as superior athletes because of their strength, their agility and their bravery for stepping into a “man’s world�?and not because they were bouncy, bubbly, breasty and slutty.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

This…this is where I came into play. Last week I was introduced to Dante Macabre the man. He was in the Women’s lockerroom, waiting…watching…looking for one person. He was lurking about, in an eerie, creepy fashion but, he had a hidden agenda. To find me. I’d never met the man before that day and, quite honestly, I was a little freaked out at first. He’s not some ugly monster that I should run from �?not that I would anyway. But it was extremely creepy to come into the lockerroom, expecting to shower and finding some unknown man sitting there watching, and waiting.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

He told me of this plan, this Great Manifesto, as he referred it and it was all fun and good…but I had no idea what, exactly, it had to do with me. And then, he told me. He sees the great talent in me, the fight, the drive and the passion. All the same qualities he has in himself and his ‘partner�?�?that was revealed last week on ECW’s Trash TV. He told me that it was a shame I’d had to play second fiddle to the other women that brought in to be the T&A of the company. Granted, I’ve definitely got the body to bring in millions of viewers…or, for ECW’s sake, hundreds…and I’m not too shabby of a looker, if I do say so myself. But it was the same as it was in the old “glory�?days. Blonde is beautiful and I’d never be a blonde, not even if you paid me. Some washed up, tramp ass, even more untalented version of Sable and Sunny? I don’t think so. I’d much rather be compared to Joanie “Chyna�?Laurer before the drugs and the booze and the mediocre, Indy porn then either of those two blonde has-beens. Hell, give me Victoria, Natalya and any other brunette female that had talent, then to ever compare me to the millions and millions of Trish Stratus�?that are floating around the world. Maybe it’s a stereotype, maybe it’s not…either way, I would never want to be viewed as nothing more then a hot piece of ass. I’ve trained and busted my ass since I was 12 to be in this business. It’s in my blood, it flows through my veins. It’s in my fucking DNA. I lost my mother a long time ago, wrestling comforted me in heartache and pain, and damn sure saw me through many a PMS-moment, that’s for sure. It was, to me, what a mother is to any other girl at that age, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Did I miss my mother? You bet your ass I did. But, the fact that she wasn’t around, I had the opportunity to fall back on something that has been flowing through my blood since the day I was conceived.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

My father was a wrestler �?my uncle was a wrestler. My mother was a valet in wrestling, they were famous in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Mexico</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region>…and after four kids, and it was only natural that at least one of the Felix children ended up in this profession. So here I am, and I cannot wait to kick some ass and be a true representative for the entire Felix family. I’ve had my struggles and my defining moments in my career, but now was a true testament to my faith in what I do and how well I do it.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

Dante knew that, which is why he first approached me. He wanted to make sure I realized my full potential, and not have to sit side-saddled to some bleached blonde, no-talent bimbo. He didn’t want me to fall into the cracks of the walls like any other person that has come into this game with talent and ambition, all so that some Maryse Ouellette can come up and still the thunder, wear a belt that she didn’t deserve and force every other girl with actual talent to fall at her feet and praise her.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

So, he asked me to join him. To ensure I was a part of this new “movement�?this Manifesto that he wanted so badly to push. And, truth be told, I was seriously considering it. What’d I have to lose, really? Other then, perhaps, what’s left of my sanity…but other then that, nothing at all. So here I was, left to think. Would I join his little group of pioneers or would I fly solo, try and figure out my own place in this company, and risk the potential of being “lost in the crowd�? I think my fate was decided the moment that Dante walked into that lockerroom, opened his mouth and introduced me to the idea of this Manifesto. The question is…in which direction was the answer going to slide?<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

The air was cool, the beginning of fall was closely upon us and the weather change was already quite apparent. There was a somber feeling about this place. A tall structure of white stone that seemed almost historic, almost gothic. The grass hadn’t been mowed in, what seemed like, months �?the trees were down to shriveled up branches and the leaves were beginning to gather at the foot of the ground all around the building. There was a set of steep, concrete steps that lead from the sidewalk to the doors of the building. The doors were, once upon a time, chained shut �?but hadn’t been for quite some time. At the top of the building was a set of statues that seemed almost like angels, and along the entire building was nothing but stained glass windows. Or well, they used to be there. Most had been broken by now, no telling how long this building has been standing, let alone how long it’s been abandoned. And, according to the inscription at the top of the building, over the steps �?this used to be a church. And, not just any church…a Catholic church. And I bet this church had been swiftly introduced to a nice alter boy or two in it’s time…and, of course, the oh so proud deices kept it on the hush-hush to protect the self-righteous name of their damned church. But they, of all people, should know that God never forgives sinners and child molesters!<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

I slowly scared the steps, taking them one by one, keeping a watchful eye at my surroundings. There was no one in sight…not even a bird…and definitely no noises were heard the entire time. Slowly, I approached the door, very timid. Sure, I was a bit of a risk taker in the ring but, in life, I’d love nothing more then to keep from having to be behind bars…even for the slightest of moments. I grabbed the side of the door, the locks had been broken and, at one point in time or another, the door had been knocked off its hinges just a bit, so it didn’t close completely. Taking one last look around, before walking inside, I pulled the doors open completely and walked in. Letting them go, they slammed shut, and kept bouncing against the frame of the door. This startled me a bit, and I jumped and quickly looked back. There was no one there, though. The coast was still clear. As I looked around, inside this once prominent Catholic Cathedral, I took in every nook and cranny of it. Birds cooed from the inside of the building, hiding under what pews had still been left standing, and in the pillars that aligned the entrance of the church. The isle way that went from the entrance of the church up to the staging area, where the Priest would normally be, was somewhat narrow �?meant for only two people to be able to walk through at any given time but, right now, it was just me. I had no one with me, and wanted no one with me. The light inside the church was quite dim, despite all the broken windows. There was obviously no electricity, running water or any other utilities or amenities on, and what little sunlight that managed to shine through was all that I had to guide me. Slowly, I took one step at a time, walking down the isle way. My flaming red hair flowing through the air as the wind blew.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

As I approached the staging area of the church, I acknowledged the fact that I was now standing in front of a religious monarch; a statue figure �?built into the wall �?of the Virgin Mary. I knelt, as I had been taught as a child, attending church every Sunday and Wednesday with my father and brothers. I ran my fingers over my body from my forehead to the center of my chest, then across my chest from right to left, muttering something under my breath. “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghosts�?I said, as I bowed my head �?but only for a second or two. Slowly, I rose to my feet, the chain that I had in my hand hung low. It was black and at the end was a crucifix…the beads that went around the entire necklace matched and were, too, black. And, for those of us that aren’t Catholic and wouldn’t normally know what this symbolizes �?this would be a Rosary. Used a lot at funerals and by devote Catholics, hung in homes, in cars, in lockers and anywhere that there may be a need for one.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

My eyes gazed over my surroundings, the bright hazel color peered through my caramel colored skin, as I maintained focus. My make-up was done absolutely perfectly for my complexion, but my eyes were a bit darker and fuller. The mascara really plumped up my eye lashes and made them seem dark, the black eye liner that I used to outline the shape of my eyes really added to that effect, giving them this very deep, dark look. But, it was a look that seemed to fit. My finger nails were painted black, and were long and square shaped. Yes, they were professionally manicured…hey, I was still a girl, ya know. I’m not completely oblivious to “girl�?things. I proudly wore a black band tee and, the band I happened to be supporting today was one of my absolute favorites �?and a very classic band �?Black Sabbath and covering the lower part of my body was a pair of somewhat tight, figure fitting dark blue jean pants. Over my feet was a pair of black tennis shoes, in a color that matched the shirt.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

�?SPAN>Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee�?I began to say, as I ran my fingers gently, over the beads on the Rosary. �?SPAN>Blessed are thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus�?I continued, bowing my head. �?SPAN>Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death�?I said, in a very low and somber tone. �?SPAN>Amen�?I finished, as I brought my head up, to stare at the statue of the Virgin Mary, the Rosary still being held tightly in my grasp.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

�?SPAN>I come to you now, Mary, in hopes of forgiveness. It’s been a while since my last confession. Actually, it’s been years �?I was ten, the very last time I stepped foot inside of a church. But, Mary, I do not pray for myself alone�?I began, as I paced back and forth at the front of the church. �?SPAN>You see, since the last Confession I’ve managed to attract a few cardinal sins…some that might land me a permanent residency in the fiery pits of hell. But that, Mary, I have taken peace with. I don’t even want to think that I have a chance, now, of getting through the Golden Gates and into Heaven. That time’s long since come and gone, and many of the things in my past �?and many of my future, have condemned me to hell for all eternity. Be that as it may, though, I am not here to ask for a favor for myself. I don’t need one. And I am certainly not here to beg and plead for one more chance, making ideal promises that I know I will never…ever…keep. That is for amateurs, Mary. And, let’s be frank with one another �?you and I both know that God doesn’t grant wishes or favors. I knew that long before I stopped going to church…the moment that He sentenced my mother to die a slow, painful, agonizing death…and then so swiftly took her from me, my brothers and my father�?I said, in a severely bitter tone.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

It was a long history �?what happened with my mother…something that, the likes of ECW people would probably never know �?or understand. �?SPAN>Am I bitter? You better believe it, Mary. And with good reason, too. And, as much as I want to make others suffer �?as much as I want to punish them the same way I was punished from the moment that my mother took her last breath…I know that it will never fill that void, that empty spot in the core of my heart. But, you see Mary, I’ve found solace in punishing others �?deserving or not �?because, though that spot may remain empty, it makes me feel a little closer to God. And the closer I get to God, the closer I am to understanding why she was taken from me…why she was punished…why I was punished. I was ten, Mary, and I had done nothing wrong. I said my nightly prayers; I praised Him as the only person that should ever be held above me. And for that, my mother’s soul was taken.�?/SPAN>

Things could not have been planned more perfectly. It was a cool day out, the weather was slowly beginning to change for the fall season and I could not wait. It was one less day to worry about, and one less day left in the year. I was definitely looking forward to a brand new start and a brand new year. I’d seen my share of up’s and down’s for this year…one injury right after another. Luckily, it was nothing more then a sprained ankle and a sprained wrist, but still, it was something that set me back from attaining my goal in life; to become a champion. I recently signed with Eastern Championship Wrestling, a smaller company that was bigger then the <st1:place w:st="on">Indies</st1:place>…if that makes any sense at all. What ROH and WWE were to the <st1:place w:st="on">Indies</st1:place> and major leagues, ECW was to the in-between genre. It was large enough to support a good sized roster, but small enough to keep things calm and easier to follow. There weren’t eight stars being constantly used while all the others lingered in the background. It was the perfect size for a perfect company. And it was a place I fit with, and a group of people I fit with, quite well.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

Of course, there was one that seemed to make it his obligation to ruin things for everyone. He was like the plague of the company. He was completely focused on being the champion, being the founder of the company, being the top dog �?the head honcho and he desperately wanted to change the way the world looked at wrestlers. He wanted the age old wrestling, the old school days back in play…where the only people that were loved and respected were the ones with the talent, the passion, the heart �?the drive for this business. Not the ones with the size Triple X boobs, the platinum blonde hair and low-cut bust line, the handsome, blemish-free faces and the stern, rock hard, pecked-out bods. He wanted the days where a man could be loved and adored for what he could do in the ring, not the model-like features that he had. Where women were viewed as superior athletes because of their strength, their agility and their bravery for stepping into a “man’s world�?and not because they were bouncy, bubbly, breasty and slutty.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

This…this is where I came into play. Last week I was introduced to Dante Macabre the man. He was in the Women’s lockerroom, waiting…watching…looking for one person. He was lurking about, in an eerie, creepy fashion but, he had a hidden agenda. To find me. I’d never met the man before that day and, quite honestly, I was a little freaked out at first. He’s not some ugly monster that I should run from �?not that I would anyway. But it was extremely creepy to come into the lockerroom, expecting to shower and finding some unknown man sitting there watching, and waiting.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

He told me of this plan, this Great Manifesto, as he referred it and it was all fun and good…but I had no idea what, exactly, it had to do with me. And then, he told me. He sees the great talent in me, the fight, the drive and the passion. All the same qualities he has in himself and his ‘partner�?�?that was revealed last week on ECW’s Trash TV. He told me that it was a shame I’d had to play second fiddle to the other women that brought in to be the T&A of the company. Granted, I’ve definitely got the body to bring in millions of viewers…or, for ECW’s sake, hundreds…and I’m not too shabby of a looker, if I do say so myself. But it was the same as it was in the old “glory�?days. Blonde is beautiful and I’d never be a blonde, not even if you paid me. Some washed up, tramp ass, even more untalented version of Sable and Sunny? I don’t think so. I’d much rather be compared to Joanie “Chyna�?Laurer before the drugs and the booze and the mediocre, Indy porn then either of those two blonde has-beens. Hell, give me Victoria, Natalya and any other brunette female that had talent, then to ever compare me to the millions and millions of Trish Stratus�?that are floating around the world. Maybe it’s a stereotype, maybe it’s not…either way, I would never want to be viewed as nothing more then a hot piece of ass. I’ve trained and busted my ass since I was 12 to be in this business. It’s in my blood, it flows through my veins. It’s in my fucking DNA. I lost my mother a long time ago, wrestling comforted me in heartache and pain, and damn sure saw me through many a PMS-moment, that’s for sure. It was, to me, what a mother is to any other girl at that age, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Did I miss my mother? You bet your ass I did. But, the fact that she wasn’t around, I had the opportunity to fall back on something that has been flowing through my blood since the day I was conceived.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

My father was a wrestler �?my uncle was a wrestler. My mother was a valet in wrestling, they were famous in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Mexico</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Japan</st1:place></st1:country-region>…and after four kids, and it was only natural that at least one of the Felix children ended up in this profession. So here I am, and I cannot wait to kick some ass and be a true representative for the entire Felix family. I’ve had my struggles and my defining moments in my career, but now was a true testament to my faith in what I do and how well I do it.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

Dante knew that, which is why he first approached me. He wanted to make sure I realized my full potential, and not have to sit side-saddled to some bleached blonde, no-talent bimbo. He didn’t want me to fall into the cracks of the walls like any other person that has come into this game with talent and ambition, all so that some Maryse Ouellette can come up and still the thunder, wear a belt that she didn’t deserve and force every other girl with actual talent to fall at her feet and praise her.<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

So, he asked me to join him. To ensure I was a part of this new “movement�?this Manifesto that he wanted so badly to push. And, truth be told, I was seriously considering it. What’d I have to lose, really? Other then, perhaps, what’s left of my sanity…but other then that, nothing at all. So here I was, left to think. Would I join his little group of pioneers or would I fly solo, try and figure out my own place in this company, and risk the potential of being “lost in the crowd�? I think my fate was decided the moment that Dante walked into that lockerroom, opened his mouth and introduced me to the idea of this Manifesto. The question is…in which direction was the answer going to slide?<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

The air was cool, the beginning of fall was closely upon us and the weather change was already quite apparent. There was a somber feeling about this place. A tall structure of white stone that seemed almost historic, almost gothic. The grass hadn’t been mowed in, what seemed like, months �?the trees were down to shriveled up branches and the leaves were beginning to gather at the foot of the ground all around the building. There was a set of steep, concrete steps that lead from the sidewalk to the doors of the building. The doors were, once upon a time, chained shut �?but hadn’t been for quite some time. At the top of the building was a set of statues that seemed almost like angels, and along the entire building was nothing but stained glass windows. Or well, they used to be there. Most had been broken by now, no telling how long this building has been standing, let alone how long it’s been abandoned. And, according to the inscription at the top of the building, over the steps �?this used to be a church. And, not just any church…a Catholic church. And I bet this church had been swiftly introduced to a nice alter boy or two in it’s time…and, of course, the oh so proud deices kept it on the hush-hush to protect the self-righteous name of their damned church. But they, of all people, should know that God never forgives sinners and child molesters!<o:p></o:p>

<o:p> </o:p>

I slowly scared the steps, taking them one by one, keeping a watchful eye at my surroundings. There was no one in sight…not even a bird…and definitely no noises were heard the entire time. Slowly, I approached the door, very timid. Sure, I was a bit of a risk taker in the ring but, in life, I’d love nothing more then to keep from having to be behind bars…even for the slightest of moments. I grabbed the side of the door, the locks had been broken and, at one point in time or another, the door had been knocked off its hinges just a bit, so it didn’t close completely. Taking one last look around, before walking inside, I pulled the doors open completely and walked in. Letting them go, they slammed shut, and kept bouncing against the frame of the door. This startled me a bit, and I jumped and quickly looked back. There was no one there, though. The coast was still clear. As I looked around, inside this once prominent Catholic Cathedral, I took in every nook and cranny of it. Birds cooed from the inside of the building, hiding under what pews had still been left standing, and in the pillars that aligned the entrance of the church. The isle way that went from the entrance of the church up to the staging area, where the Priest would normally be, was somewhat narrow �?meant for only two people to be able to walk through at any given time but, right now, it was just me. I had no one with me, and wanted no one with me. The light inside the church was quite dim, despite all the broken windows. There was obviously no electricity, running water or any other utilities or amenities on, and what little sunlight that managed to shine through was all that I had to guide me. Slowly, I took one step at a time, walking down the isle way. My flaming red hair flowing through the air as the wind blew.<o:p></o:p>

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As I approached the staging area of the church, I acknowledged the fact that I was now standing in front of a religious monarch; a statue figure �?built into the wall �?of the Virgin Mary. I knelt, as I had been taught as a child, attending church every Sunday and Wednesday with my father and brothers. I ran my fingers over my body from my forehead to the center of my chest, then across my chest from right to left, muttering something under my breath. “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghosts�?I said, as I bowed my head �?but only for a second or two. Slowly, I rose to my feet, the chain that I had in my hand hung low. It was black and at the end was a crucifix…the beads that went around the entire necklace matched and were, too, black. And, for those of us that aren’t Catholic and wouldn’t normally know what this symbolizes �?this would be a Rosary. Used a lot at funerals and by devote Catholics, hung in homes, in cars, in lockers and anywhere that there may be a need for one.<o:p></o:p>

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My eyes gazed over my surroundings, the bright hazel color peered through my caramel colored skin, as I maintained focus. My make-up was done absolutely perfectly for my complexion, but my eyes were a bit darker and fuller. The mascara really plumped up my eye lashes and made them seem dark, the black eye liner that I used to outline the shape of my eyes really added to that effect, giving them this very deep, dark look. But, it was a look that seemed to fit. My finger nails were painted black, and were long and square shaped. Yes, they were professionally manicured…hey, I was still a girl, ya know. I’m not completely oblivious to “girl�?things. I proudly wore a black band tee and, the band I happened to be supporting today was one of my absolute favorites �?and a very classic band �?Black Sabbath and covering the lower part of my body was a pair of somewhat tight, figure fitting dark blue jean pants. Over my feet was a pair of black tennis shoes, in a color that matched the shirt.<o:p></o:p>

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�?SPAN>Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee�?I began to say, as I ran my fingers gently, over the beads on the Rosary. �?SPAN>Blessed are thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus�?I continued, bowing my head. �?SPAN>Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death�?I said, in a very low and somber tone. �?SPAN>Amen�?I finished, as I brought my head up, to stare at the statue of the Virgin Mary, the Rosary still being held tightly in my grasp.<o:p></o:p>

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�?SPAN>I come to you now, Mary, in hopes of forgiveness. It’s been a while since my last confession. Actually, it’s been years �?I was ten, the very last time I stepped foot inside of a church. But, Mary, I do not pray for myself alone�?I began, as I paced back and forth at the front of the church. �?SPAN>You see, since the last Confession I’ve managed to attract a few cardinal sins…some that might land me a permanent residency in the fiery pits of hell. But that, Mary, I have taken peace with. I don’t even want to think that I have a chance, now, of getting through the Golden Gates and into Heaven. That time’s long since come and gone, and many of the things in my past �?and many of my future, have condemned me to hell for all eternity. Be that as it may, though, I am not here to ask for a favor for myself. I don’t need one. And I am certainly not here to beg and plead for one more chance, making ideal promises that I know I will never…ever…keep. That is for amateurs, Mary. And, let’s be frank with one another �?you and I both know that God doesn’t grant wishes or favors. I knew that long before I stopped going to church…the moment that He sentenced my mother to die a slow, painful, agonizing death…and then so swiftly took her from me, my brothers and my father�?I said, in a severely bitter tone.<o:p></o:p>

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It was a long history �?what happened with my mother…something that, the likes of ECW people would probably never know �?or understand. �?SPAN>Am I bitter? You better believe it, Mary. And with good reason, too. And, as much as I want to make others suffer �?as much as I want to punish them the same way I was punished from the moment that my mother took her last breath…I know that it will never fill that void, that empty spot in the core of my heart. But, you see Mary, I’ve found solace in punishing others �?deserving or not �?because, though that spot may remain empty, it makes me feel a little closer to God. And the closer I get to God, the closer I am to understanding why she was taken from me…why she was punished…why I was punished. I was ten, Mary, and I had done nothing wrong. I said my nightly prayers; I praised Him as the only person that should ever be held above me. And for that, my mother’s soul was taken.�?My voice echoed through the abandoned church with a resounding boom. I turned my face down to the ground, as if to stare at Mary in shame for what had happened to me in my life.<o:p></o:p>

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�?SPAN>But that anger, that revenge I am so desperately wanting is not why I am here today. I came here, before you, humble and with marching orders of my own. You see, Mary, the path I’ve chosen to take is the same path that both of my parents took, years and years ago. The path my uncles took, the path my cousins are trying to take, the path that my grandfather took. I’ve become everything that every person �?except for one �?told me not to be and that is a wrestler. And this week, Mary, in the second edition of ECW Trash TV I make my grand debut in the company. And in a battle royal, no less, featuring every other female wrestler that ECW manages to hold and, trust me Mary, there aren’t many. The winner will advance in a title tournament and, you can beat your holy ass that I am going to walk out of ECW Trash TV a winner. There’s no doubt in my mind that I won’t walk out a winner. I could careless who all actually competes in the match, who shows up for the match, who declares themselves the winner of the match. Hell, I don’t even care what females are employed with the company �?what it all comes down to, is who wants it more. A year, Mary, since my original debut back in December of 2007, and I’ve yet to find the comfort in a successful championship reign, constantly being overlooked for those that they find to be more “appealing to the eye�?�?the trashy, busty blondes that couldn’t wrestle their way out of a brown paper bag. But, no longer. You see, Mary, I’ve found myself a place that relies on true talent and athletic ability �?on skill and who can truly master the art of wrestling, as opposed to who could be featured in the next edition of Playboy�?I said, my head was still in a bowed position, as I looked at the statue of Mary through the tops of my eyes. �?SPAN>They would much rather feature people that are credible in the ring, that show some sort of perfection in there…a bit of class, if you will. Any average Joe Schmo nobody can pull off a good DDT, but it takes a real athlete, a real player of the game �?of this game �?to master a move set like I have. And I will be damned if I let some skank, blondzilla, Pamela Anderson-wanna be reject fulfill the destiny, the dreams, the goals that I was born to fill. I was born to be in this spot, in this position…I was born to be a wrestler and there is no way in hell that anyone is going to take my spot. Least of all some average spot filler�?I said, with a stern tone behind it. My attention was brought back up from the floor to the statue of Mary; my head was now at a level with my shoulders. “I wasn’t trained in two seconds to become a champion for three days, only to lose it to the next, newest little blonde skank that came trotting along. I was trained my entire life, to become the fucking best. I am no one’s hero, no one’s icon. A fucking legend in the making and no one is going to stop me from fulfilling my destiny! As a famous man once said; Hero’s get remembered…but legends never die�?I said, looking at the statue, before cracking a smile.<o:p></o:p>

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“On ECW Trash TV, a legend will �?once again �?be born. Dante will get his answer; I will get a victory and get one step closer to realizing my dream. So Mary, hear my prayer…watch over the souls, the bodies, the spirits and the hearts of any bitch that tries to stand in my way…that just tries to stop me. May God have mercy on their soul�?because I sure as shit won’t!�?I said, letting out a very low, snicker-like laugh. My bright hazel eyes peered over the statue, as I turned on my heels. With a smirk on my face, I headed back down the isle way, towards the doors. Before leaving, I stopped at the last pew, turned back to the statue of Mary and bowed my head again. Clutching my Rosary in my hand, I made a cross over my body, and in a low, very humble voice, muttered the same prayer I had when I first entered the church; �?/SPAN>Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death�?I said, cracking an evil, sinister smirk as I brought my head back up to a leveled position. �?SPAN>Amen�?I said, as my closing statements, before heading through the doors of the church. Disappearing into the sunlight, there really wasn’t much else to say except to wish my opponents �?whomever they might be �?good luck…but would I? No…not a chance in hell!<o:p></o:p>