Miami Dade county Memorial Hospital
February 15th 2009
…

I've been sitting here for hours now.

It feels like days.

I'd give anything to have this end but, at the same time, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world right now. Well.... given the situation of course. Obviously I'd much rather be visiting my friends at their home, rather than sitting here…visiting her. Maybe, if things were different, we all would be on a vacation right now. It wasn’t strange for her, Nick, sometimes Johnny and I to take vacations together. We all loved to travel. Nothing made her feel more alive than touching down in a strange city and trying to act like one of the locals. I can still remember the smile on her face as we sat in a café in Paris and she was telling me all about Alex, how great he was. Showing me Christmas pictures of Alex and herself. She looked up at me and smiled wider than I've ever seen her smile before. She laughed and took a sip of her coffee before sighing and saying

"I’m finally happy Frank"

And now I look at her... unresponsive in a bed beside me.... and I can't help but wonder what she's thinking. Is she thinking anything? I have no idea and no way to ever know. What goes through someone's mind when they're in a coma? Do they realize what is going on? Do they understand the situation they're in? Is she screaming inside her head right now, terrified that she'll never come out of this?

Or is it peaceful?

Is she just alone with her thoughts, no longer bothered by the chaos of modern life? No longer stressing over Johnny, or worrying about Alex. That's how I like to picture her: relaxed and calm and at peace with her situation.

It's a good thing she can't see me though. If she could see my nervous shuffling, my occasional emotional breakdowns, my bouts of uncontrollable tears and the look of complete and utter desperation in my eyes she would probably be terrified. Hell I didn’t even let Alex see me like this. Sam was my friend, she looked out for Alex when I couldn’t and now she’s dying. I sent Alex out to get himself some food, promised him I would watch after Sam

Didn’t realize how it was going to fuck me up, go figure watching a friend die is hard on the heart

I've never been so scared in my entire life. Even when I was lying in a hospital bed just like this one, my neck throbbing with unbelievable pain, I wasn't this scared. I knew I would get out of that. I knew that somehow, someway I would be able to walk again. I don't know how or why, but I just knew it. Right now.... right now nothing is a certainty.

She could be in this coma for another few months or longer. She could snap out of it tomorrow. The doctors have said that the swelling on her brain has gone down and it's possible that she could wake up when her body is ready. Of course, she could also die.

And here comes another one of those bouts of uncontrollable crying.

I instinctively turn away from her as the tears begin to stream down my face. Why? I don't know. It's not like she can see me. But she's still there... she's still a person... she still my friend... and I can't just sit beside her and cry.

I can't.

I have to do something to retain my dignity... and to retain hers. I have to be strong for Alex, the kid must be a ball of emotions

it’s a very strange situation right now. I know she's there. I know she's my friend. I can see her. I can feel her. But, at the same time, she's gone. Her eyes don't open. Her breath is shallow and assisted by machinery. Her skin is slightly cold. She's lying right beside me, but she's not really. She's somewhere in between life and death.

Somewhere I cannot go.

And so here I sit, keeping a silent vigil beside her body. Sometimes I talk to her. I have no idea if she can hear me or if she is capable of understanding anymore, but I still talk. I tell her when it's sunny outside. Every morning I open up the window blinds beside her bed and I tell her about the weather.

Frank Hart
"It's a nice day today Samantha."

To be truthful, a day I spend inside a hospital at the bedside of my comatose friend can never be considered a "nice day." But, for her and Alex, I keep up appearances. I tell her about the news; I tell her about my life, I tell her about Alex. My days are filled with one way conversations about what Alex have been up to, and how Johnny is doing and what the government is debating today.

Frank Hart
"There are some kids playing in the field beside the hospital, Sam. I think they're playing soccer. It's hard to see from here, but they're kicking a ball around for sure. Are you feeling okay today? Alex is doing great, kid is stronger than we imagine he was, he hates Johnny you know. Blames him for all of this"

She never answers

Honestly, I never expect her to. But out of common courtesy I feel the need to ask her. I always say "hello" when I walk into the room. I always tell her I'll "be right back" whenever I step out for a moment. And I always say "goodnight" when I leave in the evening. I have to. To walk into the room, see my best friend’s mother, and not say a word would seem too unnatural. It seems too impersonal. She's still there. Behind all of those medical devices is my friend. She may be surrounded by tubes and drips and monitors... but she's still there.

Or is she?

These days are long. I usually spend them by myself, I’m always here at the crack of dawn, relizing Alex and sending him home for rest, although the kid never goes home. He always ends up making a make-shift bed in the waiting room.

Frank Hart
"There's a hockey game on tonight Sam. Alex’s favorite team is playing, It’s gonna be a good one!"

Most of the time I sit at her bedside, lost in my own thoughts. In many ways I am in a coma with her. I speak only to her. Occasionally a doctor or nurse steps into the room, but they're usually too busy to bother with me. They do their work and then rush out again. Otherwise its only me and Alex and of course Sam. Johnny has only been here twice since she’s been in the coma. Not sure if he really is that much of a jackass not to care about his wife, or he just can’t handle it.

I have no idea what she is thinking, but I am fully engrossed in my own thoughts. And my thoughts are as random as they could possibly be.

I think about her.

I think about what she must be thinking.

I think about the night she got into the accident; how I wasn't there. I was working out with Alex, the kid wants the body of a Greek god. It was are thing we did, work out and shoot the shit. I think about the months that have passed since that night and I wonder when Alex will ever get to hear her voice again. And then my thoughts drift. A darkness seeps into my brain every so often and it lingers there for days. It clouds every single thing I do, making it all seem meaningless. Nothing is worth anything. My life is ruined. I sit beside my unresponsive friend and I cry. My body is broken down. Sitting still for hours every day is wreaking havoc on my neck and my knees. I bones crack and ache every time I stand. And yet my mind wanders further. It eventually slides past the dark cloud of depression and it descends deeper into madness.

My head starts to hurt.

My heart starts to hurt.

Soon I can no longer feel the pain in my joints.... my mind is focused on a greater pain and a greater question: how in the world can I aid Alex if the worse is to happen?

I desperately want Sam to wake up.

I don’t think I can really help Alex through this.

We always worked as a team, always trying to protect Alex from Johnny

Without her, I’m alone.

I'm sorry Samantha. I have to go. I have to. I'm in pain. Emotional pain. Physical pain. Spiritual pain. The dark cloud that looms over me isn't leaving this time. It is just getting darker. There is no light. There is no hope. There is nothing but pain. This hospital room has become my jail cell. I can't believe I feel this way, but I need to leave. I'm sorry Sam. I know that what you are going through is a million time worse than how I feel right now, but I cannot do this any longer. My will to live is dying inside this building.

My sanity is slowly drifting away.

I need to go.

Frank Hart
Don’t worry about Alex…I’ll watch over him with my dying breath…

…
Sin City Arena
Las Vegas,NV
January 12th 2010
…

The scene opens up to an empty ring, set in the center of Sin City Arena, yet to most-It was just another arena; Empty ring, barely functional entrance set up and thin air for an audience. It was far from the pomp and circumstance that most NLWF fans were used to, but for the ring crew and the wrestlers, it was a weekly occurrence: The calm before the storm. As the camera slowly panned around the arena, taking in the view, it would be interrupted by the familiar voice of NLWF’s Frank Hart, one of the most talented men to step between the ropes, But now a man with a conflict.

Frank Hart
I used to live for this…When did it become more work and less fun?

He spoke calmly, an almost wistful tone about his words as he slowly stepped out from behind the camera, holding a picture of Samantha Mark. Dressed in his typical attire of black Armani suit and tie, Frank seemed to be in a more somber mood as opposed to his typical cockiness as he began to walk down the aisle way, moving down the steps and toward the ring. The camera followed him, watching as he carefully touched each seat along the way as he walked down toward that barrier. It was only there that he paused, looking up toward the ring as the camera moved beside him, taking in that intensely longing expression as he searched for words

Frank Hart
The arena, filled with fans, screaming their lungs out for the action we provide. The looks upon their faces, happy or sad, ecstatic or enraged, is something that drives me. It doesn’t matter if they love me or hate me at the time. It’s what I used to live for…

Licking over his lips as he looked up to the ring, he’d stand motionless for a few moments longer before gingerly lifting himself up and over the barricade. Once on the other side, he would stare at the ring for a few moments longer before slowly making his way up to the apron. Reaching up to grab the middle rope, he’d carefully hoist himself up before stepping between the ropes. Inside of the ring, he couldn’t help himself-He had to look over the empty arena again. Slowly turning in a circle as he backed toward the center of the ring, he’d have a look of idle wonder upon his features before the camera was once again addressed.

Frank Hart
That and the competition. The thrill of facing off against another man or woman and leaving it all in the ring for the sake of victory. Pride, honor…glory. It’s what we all strive for, but at the end of the day…Some people don’t see it that way. Their sense of pride and honor are skewed, so long as they can have that glory. I think you know who I’m talking about, don’t you?

Looking toward the camera, he’d idly raise an eyebrow as though asking a question. It was rhetorical though. Those who had been paying attention to his opponent and the saga he had knew full well who he meant. Without missing a beat, he’d continue his diatribe.

Frank Hart
Now, I’m hiding…Running away from Corey Casey

I looked at the picture of Samantha Mark, couldn’t help but remember the night I ran away from Sam. It was the same night I made the promise that I would watch over Alex. A task I’ve failed, another task I ran away from

Frank Hart
Corey, you are the absolute worst thing in this company right now. Don’t get me wrong; you’re talented as all Hell. You can do things that few could even imagine doing, but I don’t know how it happened along the way, but you began to believe every last bit of the hype people have placed upon you. You didn’t just believe it, you lived it. You lived it until the very thought of losing out became unbearable, and thus…your need for glory overpowered your sense of honor. Your pride overcame every single thing you might have possibly stood for and you became a whore, trading in your talents for any cheap way you could cling onto what you wanted.

They were scathing words, meant to inflict damage on Corey’s ego and sense of self, but it was questionable as to whether it would have its effect or not. Some might say that she was too far gone for such words to have any meaning to him. His armor of ego was too thick. Either way, I didn’t care. I had thoughts on my mind and from the look on my face; I was intent on voicing them. Standing in the middle of the ring, I did exactly that

Frank Hart
It worked well for you, admittedly. You got the world by its balls, you have a following. Congratulations Corey you’re the lord of a new religious cult! You’re a modern day Charles Manson, and you’re just as nuts. The city of Salvation? Shits more like a cult compound just waiting to get raided. Lucky for you I don’t aim to raid the city, to watch it burn to the ground. I owe you my life Corey, but you’re quickly mistaking my life as some sort of property. And that’s the major issues here Corey. Your treating me as if my name was Jake Stunner and you are Brenton Cyrus. Wait, you might mistake that as a complement seeing as your whole gimmick mimics Brenton Cyrus. You went from his sloppy bitch, to a cheap knock off. When will you realize that you’ll never be Brenton Cyrus. The New Dawn will never measure up to Salvation. When Brenton Cyrus created Salvation he took the world by storm. Brenton and Chuck put NLWF on the map; The New Dawn has put NLWF into a depression and has turned NLWF into a modern day wCw. NLWF is struggling to stay at the top, and you’re doing everything to kill it

Licking over my lips, I close my eyes and focus on those words I just spoken, as if they were the very things that gave me my drive. No one told me to go for broke and take what I wanted, that was all my own doing. I wanted to be a part of Salvation that I allowed Corey’s south park mentality to ruin everything I worked hard to have. I loosen my tie before continuing on, my eyes set on the picture of Sam as though she was standing right in front of me, and I was making excuses for my broken promise

Frank Hart
You’re facing a man who knows exactly who he is and where he should be Corey. I know exactly what I have to do in order to get there too. You’re talented, you’re dangerous…but you’ve grown weak due to your dependence upon the New Dawn. You’re growing complacent. You think no one can touch you and you think that this week, you can just walk in and take the win. I know you do Corey. I also believe that you expect me to lay down for my Lord

Suddenly, Frank ripped that tie away from his neck-the fine silk ripping from the sheer force behind my motions. Clutching that tie in my hand, I’d hold it up for a moment before tossing it down onto the mat. Glaring at the picture, my demeanor changed. If I was serious before, I was outright murderous in intent now.

Frank Hart
Not going to fucking happen Corey! That’s not how it works! At Revolution, I face the most important match of my career! Think what you may, but I know what’s at stake! I know that if I win this match, I come one step closer to being the first ever Dream Champion. I know that, if I win, you’ll begin to question your authority. I know that, if I win I become a marked man on the hit list of a mad cult. And I welcome it. I have to if I stand a chance in showing the mistakes your making with the New Dawn. It has everything to be something great, but its leader is horse shit mad and leading us into a dark place called unemployment, and I don’t know about you Steven or Carmine, but I didn’t return to NLWF to become a statistic on Obama’s jobless rate. I know you’re watching this, Corey. I know you’re watching this and you’ve already got a hand on the phone, calling every last member of the New Dawn, begging for them to come save you like you’ve always had someone do. It’s all you can do, it’s all you will do, in effort to stop me. That’s not going to happen though, not by a long shot!

Outright yelling now, I spit off to the side for a moment before my rage continued to seep forth. This match meant everything to me, no one could deny that

Frank Hart
At Revolution, you and I will step in the ring and we’ll put on the show of a God damned lifetime. But it doesn’t matter what you do at this point. You can try and face me one on one, you can call every last member of New Dawn, you can call each of the seventeen square miles of dick that’s ran through you up until this point, but it doesn’t matter! Not one fucking bit! This Monday, you’re going to find out the fruits of your labor aren’t nearly as glorious as you thought and make no mistake, I might not be your death penalty, but I’m most certainly going to be your punishment for everyone you’ve fucked over on your way to the top. And trust me, there are worse things than death. Believe that.

With another seething glare, I turn away from the camera, hands holding Samantha’s picture as I turn toward the ramp way.

Frank Hart
I’m Sorry Sam...

There was nothing left to be said, nor was there anything more to do. All that was left was to arrive at Revolution and exact my word upon Corey Casey. And so the camera followed up, watching my steady ascent up the rampway. To say that I was determined to make my mark on the New Dawn was an understatement; I was ready to leave a God damned crater and nothing could stop me.

Nothing