Ross and Rachel stood facing each other, winded, with tears run across their faces. The screaming was over. Any sound that could be made was a shrill squeak or a sad moan. The pain lingered like a cloud of purple mist, embracing them, slowly strangling them to the edge of the highest cliff. Breaking up was hard to do, but harder to cope with. They were tired, they were weak. It was a battle, worse than a thousand men dying for their kings. No, they had to live with this.
Yes, it was wrong for Ross to sleep with Chloe. They were on a break, but it was only several hours later. Alcohol has a strong psychological effect on the human mind, and is worse than an oil spill and a lit match and when mixed with emotion. When Rachel told Ross it was Mark that was with her, the fuse was lit. Ross didn't care when Rachel attempted to explain. The man he believed to be stealing his everything from him was alone with her in her apartment. He filled with hatred for this one man, but could do nothing but sulk and vent about it. Chloe was there for him. Ross kissed her. Made love to her. A drunken night of sin. Now he was paying for it.
Ross attempted to speak, but there were no words for tonight, the single worst night of his life. Instead, he simply picked up his coat and walked out the door, defeated. Rachel turned and went into her room, tears staining the floor along the way. Chandler, Monica, Phoebe, and Joey attempted to console each other, they too crying about the events that had just transpired, even though they were hidden in Monica's room, unable to see the pain in Ross and Rachel's eyes. Each left soon after hearing Rachel's door shut, thinking about what the future held for the group.
The night air was crisp and cool, typical for Manhattan. Ross decided to walk home, reminiscing of his relationship with Rachel. He was sad, nothing else. Who wouldn't be? He wondered what Rachel was doing, but simply settled for going to bed. He was more than ready to do the same.
Only a block from his apartment, Ross practically fell asleep standing. He needed to hurry home to rest, and maybe forget about this night for a couple hours. He perked up as much as he could, but his heart was an anchor. It dragged him aground. Staring at the cement, he turned the corner onto his street, where he felt another presence.
Slowly looking up, he saw black. Black shoes, black pants, black hooded sweater, shrouding a person's face. Worst of all, a black hole, surrounded by cold steel.
This man stood erect, looking down at Ross. Revolver held firm in his grasp, he pointed it at Ross's chest.
"Hand over everything. Your wallet, keys, everything, or I will shoot." he said, with a voice deeper than the ocean.
Fear hit Ross like china speeding into a brick wall. He was in shock, but he wasn't stupid. He quickly emptied his pockets, and handed his valuables over to the mugger.
"T-That's everything, I swear, p-please let me go!" Ross yelled, putting his hands up.
"Sorry, punk. Can't let you go now." The mugger chuckled. This was sport to him.
A smirk appeared across the man's face, excited by Ross's fear. Rachel, Rachel, he thought to himself, closing his eyes. He was ready for whatever was going to happen. He exhaled, and recalled his entire life, as he opened his eyes to a flash.