Post by Kane on Aug 8, 2011 23:38:39 GMT -5
"As I Look Back On My Past
Nothing Comes To Mind But Pain
Their Love And Hate Hurt
But Their Hate and Love Pleasure Me
Am I Sick, Or Are You Sick?"
“As I welcome you inside my mind, I warn you that everyone who enters doesn’t come out the same. My mind is nothing but a hellish nightmare. I can barely withstand it each and every day. I look forward to the night, when I can close my eyes and lay my head down on my pillow. Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight I welcome you… To My Nightmare!”
[/right][/color]As the scene slowly fades in, we enter in to a dark room. The only image visible is the profile of a man; A man that is sitting in a chair, his right arm propped up on a table. As we zoom in on his arm, the view slowly crawls up his arm, capturing every tiny detail. The small hairs, the scars, and even the chill bumps are revealed, as the view eventually focuses in on the hand. Inside the tightly gripped hand, a large shard of glass rests in the man’s grip. As the arm and hand begins to shake and blood slowly drizzles down his arm. The chill bumps that were once on his arms, quickly disappear and the grip on the glass is loosened. A deep sigh of relief is heard, as the blood flows even quicker, and the view slowly pans up to the man’s face, which is still resting sideways. A halfway smirk slowly crawls up the side of his cheek, as he begins to speak.
“That feeling is the best feeling in the world. The feeling off the warm red liquid flowing through your fingers and down your arm is enough to mesmerize me in to a deep high. I feel like an idiot comparing it to the nasty substances these people put in their body, but it’s true. I feel like a heroin addict getting his first hit in weeks, when I grasp that glass. I don’t expect you people to understand it, and I’m not even sure that I understand why I get this feeling. Ever since I beat Cancer, I’ve had the urge to push myself. Now, I’ve pushed myself to the point where I need the pain to just get through my day. Like I said people, my mind is nothing but a hellish nightmare.”
[/i][/right]The camera view slowly begins to fade out, leaving the image completely blurry. After a few short seconds, the image begins to come back in to focus. However, now we aren’t in a dark room. Now, we are in a filled bar, with Dante sitting at the bar, a beer in his right hand. The blood has stained over his arm, as the beer begins to sweat in his hand. The sweat slowly falls down his hand, following almost the same path as the blood. White quickly takes a drink of the beer, taking a large gulp of the golden brew, as he sits it down on the table, still grasping it in his hand.
“Want to know something else that really gets my blood flowing? I love to just sit down and have a few drinks. Just feeling that cool beverage slide down my throat sends chills up my spine, and makes me want to just sit here and drink even more. Now, I’m not a big drinker, but when you’ve had the life I have, you tend to drink a little. My mother gave me my first beer when I was 17, to get me through one of my last radiation treatments. Yes, I know it’s illegal, but I enjoyed it. It made me happy, and that was one thing I needed at that point in time. I need happiness, something I haven’t had since then. I haven’t had true happiness since the day of my last radiation treatment, and it really hurts on the inside to know that. I tend to give myself pain on the outside, to relieve the pain on the inside.”
Once again the scene slowly fades away, to nothing but a blurred mess. This time, it quickly pops back up to the dark room, where his hand is grasped around the shard of glass. The sweat coming from the beer bottle has turned in to blood, flowing from his hand. As the camera focuses in on his face, the look of pleasure is slowly forming. An almost orgasmic smile appears on his mouth, as he slowly releases the glass. It falls to the table, and he looks down at his hand. The blood begins to pool up in his palm, as he begins to chuckle and wipe the blood across the other side of his face. As he slowly turns his face towards the camera, he reveals a half view white mask, which is now stained with blood from his hand. He gets up from his seat, placing his arms behind his back, and begins to walk back and forth in front of the camera.
“Bearded Dragon, you’ve been granted the opportunity to attempt to make an impression on the people backstage, against me this week. To be honest, we both have been given the opportunity, and I promise you I won’t that opportunity pass me by. I had a little talk with Shawn Michaels when I signed my contract, and he told me that he wanted to see exactly what I could do in the ring, in my own environment. He gave me the opportunity to face you in a hardcore match, and of course, I accepted. I’m not sure if you noticed or not, but I told you pain made me happy. Going in to this match, I want you to slam me in the head with a chair. I want you to cut me open with scissors. Damnit Dragon, I want you push me closer to death then Cancer ever did! If you don’t put me close to death, then I’m going to make your night, the worst of your life! I want to bleed! I want to be carried backstage, and damnit, if you can’t do that then don’t bother showing up! You better pray to your God that you have the ability to do that, because I will not back down. When you step in to that ring on Saturday, you’ll be in my mind. You’ll be somewhere that no one has ever come back from, the same way they entered. Welcome to my Nightmare Bearded Dragon, Enter at your own Risk!”
[/right][/i]A sickening laugh belts out from his mouth, as he slowly looks up to the ceiling. He raises his hands to the sky, and then slowly brings them back down over his face, smearing the blood from his mask on to his face. His hands are still flowing with blood, as he brings them down to his side. White eventually makes his way out of view, as the scene slowly fades to black.[/size]