>>19061955>>19064292Holly approached the ring. Her eyes dead, her mind swamped by a cloud. Yet, once the match began, a fire burned through the darkness. As Amy Flame faced off against her and kicked out of Hope's End after Hope's End, passion burned through in the pit of Holly's stomach. Passion fueled by a singular emotion.
Hatred.
Hatred for the WWA. Hatred for the woman across from her who was trying so hard to reach out. Hatred for the fans chanting for her opponent.
And that hatred fueled her fists and her kicks. Blood and sweat sprayed the mat but neither fighter would relent. As Holly pushed through a Burning Hammer, she dug deep into that well of negativity, the negativity that had been transformed from depression into rage, and she lashed out.
A third Hope's End, and Amy was finally finished.
Holly's ears rang as her music played, as the wounded Amy Flame smiled and offered a handshake. The words did not reach Holly, not through her bloodlust.
Amy left the ring, leaving Holly standing simply in its centre, blood dripped from her knuckles and covered her legs and filled her mouth.
She had won, she had avenged the loss that had seen everything start to go wrong, but she wasn't done. Not yet. Not by a long shot.
