A/N: Once again. I know I should work on my other stories. But this has been sitting in my saved file for a few months, It was going to be the first story I did, but I got crazed with Shannon Moore. This is different than anything you've read from me. I'm not sure you'll like it. I just wanted to experiment. Its graphic, and there's violence and there are situations you may not like. My character is an OC, but she's based off someone very close to me, and the story is pretty close to the truth. And don't get me wrong, I love John Cena to death, but for a fiction world, he's very transversal in the role he can play. I want to remind you that it is FICTION on the wrestling part, but a serious situation that needs to be addressed in the world. With that being said…I'm off to the bat mobile.

Disclaimer- I don't own anything but Marley Jacobs, and even she is based off somebody. I have used the persona based off my best friend in the world. She knows, and she's proof read and will be proof reading in the future. Anybody affiliated with the WWE own themselves.

Chapter One- Deafening Silence.

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Its usually my fault, but not this time. I hate it when he's like this. I hate lying to people, I hate wearing long sleeves and jeans when I'm in warm places, and I hate that my friends think I'm just infatuated with sunglasses. I hate every word that comes out of his mouth, and I hate how I love him so much. And I hate…going through this pregnant with his child.

He got his ass handed to him tonight, by his best friend none the least. I don't personally see what the big deal is, he knows before he goes out there that he's going to loose. As soon as he slammed the door, I knew it wouldn't be long until he was throwing shit at the walls, and pacing the room, working himself up.

"Where the fuck did you go tonight?" he asked me slowly, his blue eyes piercing through my brown.

"I went with Candice to get some water." I told him honestly. That's what did happen. John takes an hour in the gym, warming up for a 10 minute match. What am I supposed to do for an hour? Sit there with my thumb in my ass?

"No. You just fucking took off. That's what you did." he said stepping closer to me.

"I just went to get a dri…" he cut me off, roughly grabbing my arm and pulling me into a standing position.

"You. Took. Off." he spoke slowly.

"John, I'm sorry, I didn't think you would care if I went with her." I said through clenched teeth. The pain in my arm was unreal, and did he always have to grab the same fucking spot?

"You don't ever fucking think, Marley. You don't have a fucking brain." he said slapping my head. I winced at his touch, and moved my eyes to the ground. "If I wanted you to hang out with a bunch of sluts, I would take you to a smack down taping." he said, breathing roughly in my ear and pushing me even further into the wall.

His 6 foot frame stood over my 5'8". He out weighed me by 110 lbs, and his arm was the size of my head, something I once found extremely sexy. That was before I knew how much pain those arms held.

"John, I'm sorry." I whispered. I never knew what to say to him. I knew better than to argue back, it just made him madder.

"I don't like Candice, and I don't like her little fuckin groupies." he said referring to the people Candice always hung out with. I loved those guys.

They were my best friends here. Sure I loved Randy and Adam. But they were John's boys. They're going to take his side, no matter what happens. Candice is my shelter from the storm. I can talk to her about anything. Of course, there's a lot she doesn't know. For one, she doesn't know I'm pregnant. Nobody does. Two. She doesn't know the extent of me and John. She and Matt have been together for a few months now, and I can tell he loves her. I wish John looked at me like that again. Jeffy is awesome. He's probably my closest guy friend. John doesn't know I hang out with Jeff. I hope and pray he never finds out.

I felt is grip tighten on my arm, bringing me back to reality.

"See what I fucking mean!" he shouted. "You. Don't. FUCKING. LISTEN.!" he said slamming me up against the wall. I couldn't stop the scream aching to escape out my lips. The force hurt. My arms hurt. My heart hurt.

"Stop. I'm sorry." I pleaded with him. Sorry. Seems to be my favorite word the last 4 months. "Please stop, Johnny." I cried softly

The last 4 months of my 2 year relationship, have been destroyed. In 4 months, my life has changed. My head jerked violently from the force of his large hand connecting with my cheek. My face felt like it was on fire. The hot tears running from my eyes actually felt cool on my burning skin. He let me go. I slid down the wall, pulling my knees to my chest. Its not my fault this time. All I wanted to do is get some water with my friend. What happened to us? I rested my forehead against my knees, trying to regain my composure. My whole being hurts. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I heard the door slam, and I knew I had to get out of there. I stood up on wobbly legs and made my way over to the bed in the huge hotel room. I grabbed my duffle bag, and threw as much as I could grab in it. I tried to life it over my shoulder, but the bruises on my arm, told me absolutely different. The door shut with force, and my breath caught in my throat.

'Fuck! Busted.' I thought to myself with tears falling down my face.

"What are you doin?" he asked walking up behind me.

"Just uhh, cl-cleanin up a little bit." I said with a shaky, tear filled voice.

"Yeah? Looks like you're packing to me." He said, getting a small grin on his face.

I looked into his eyes. Those eyes are what made me fall in love with him. They showed his true feelings, no matter what line of bullshit John was feeding someone. If you could read his eyes, you could read his soul.

"Where ya goin?" he asked sitting on the bed, taking his shoes off.

"I wasn't going anywhere." I said, not sure if he heard me. I barely heard me.

"Good. Come here." he said patting the mattress next to him. He heard me.

I looked at him cautiously. Was he fucking serious. He can't honestly think I want to be near him at all.

"Come here." he said again, holding his hand out.

I walked over to him slowly. As soon as I was in his arm length, his hand found mine. Did I mention how I hate when he's a different person in 15 minuets. Well, incase I forgot. I hate it. He pulled me to him so I was standing in front of him. When I felt his forehead lean against my stomach, all of my thoughts left me. John seriously made me retarded sometimes. His strong hands found their way to my hips, while the tips of his fingers lingered on the side of my ass.

"I'm sorry, baby." he said, pulling me closer. I let my hands rest on his shoulders.

"I can't do it John." I said, looking down at him. His gaze met mine, and a few stray tears left my chocolate eyes. "I can't be with you anymore." I said, attempting to stay strong.

"What?" He asked. His voice held a tone that said he didn't believe me. He shook his head slowly at me, like I had just slapped him in the face and he was trying to comprehend it.

"I'm going home tomorrow." I said, praying he didn't hear my knees knocking together, or the chatter in my teeth. Tomorrow is Monday. He has to be on RAW. No excuses. I knew it was the only chance I had of getting out of there.

"You're not leaving me." he stated simply, standing up from the bed.

I nodded my head, as tears fell freely down my face. "I have to, John. I love you but I have to go. We need time apart. We need…something." I said breaking his stare, not sure where my voice was coming from. "You're going to kill us." I cried quietly.

"Us?" he asked, grabbing my shoulders. He tilted his head down sideways, trying to look into my eyes. "US?" he asked again. "Who the fuck is US, Marley?"

"I'm pregnant, John." I whispered. I was prepared for the grabbing, or the slapping, or the yelling, but none of it came.

When I finally got the balls to look at him, he was sinking back onto the bed, with his hands still in the position they were when he let go of my shoulders. He was spooked. Frozen solid as he tried to replay what I just told him. His mouth hung slightly open, and he turned his head into my direction.

"How lo- How long?" he breathed out.

"13 weeks." I whispered. "Don't worry about anything. I got this." I said quietly dragging my duffle bag to the door. I twisted the handle and looked behind me. " I love you, John." I said sadly. He remained on the bed, looking in my direction. I thought I did the right thing by telling him. Maybe not.