I'm back babyyy!!

New story, new updates, everything.

For this new story, well its different than anything I have ever written before so bare with me.

Now I got an idea for writing a fan fic from watching a video on youtube. For those who have been watching wrestling for a long time, you know the video. After reading this it should be clearer. If you are still confused, the next chapter will clear things up more.

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I wish I knew how she felt. I wish I could take her pain away. But we all know it doesn't work that way. She is stuck where she is and she is engulfed in all her own pain. And the only thing I can do is stand here and watch. Unfortunately, that is exactly what I am forced to do.

She is a strong girl, I'll give her that much. Hell…I'll give her anything in the world. She took care of herself for this long, but for even longer she has been on the edge. Longer than I could remember, she's been teetering on a perilous brink. She's only been able to dodge some of the pain…but most of it hits her directly in the heart. Where have I been, you ask? Shouldn't I be sheltering her from this cruel discomfort? Instead, I've been standing right in front of her.

I've been dating her best friend, actually. But enough about me. Time to get to the real story.

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The feeling was amazing. Seeing all of those people cheering for you even though all you are doing is standing there looking out into the crowd. Except for that night, I don't think the cheering was for me. I think…no, I know that they cheering were for her. However, tonight was different, and I stood there looking upon my very own tv-tron. The logo that flashed in front of it only reminded me over and over again of whom I was and what my purpose was for the night.

My first guest came out, blond hair flowing behind her back as she walked. She had her "walk" that she was famous for. It was full of confidence and pride. On this night it had a bit of an edge to it, and at that point I wasn't sure if it was only an act. The fact that she was very well aware of what was going to happen in a few short moments may have influenced her gait. She entered the very ring I was standing in. She gave me a glance that was supposed to be hurtful in front of the crowd, but I saw past it in her eyes. She was as nervous as I was.

I just didn't show it.

The music…her music.

That hair…her hair.

Those eyes…her eyes.

They were all strong and perfect.

As was she.

Out she came, as powerful as ever. It wasn't the way she came out; it was more of the purpose hidden within that made the difference. Down the ramp she came, her purpose written deeply behind her hazel eyes. She gave a quick taunt to the fans, which I figured was a sign telling not them but herself that she wasn't alone. She had the support of millions.

She entered the ring unlike any other diva would. She slid in and popped up, showing everyone that she was ready at all times. For someone going through what she was, she stayed in character very well. She was immediately up in the face of the only other diva in the ring. They played it out as if they were perfect enemies, when in reality, they were exchanging glances of support. My job was to merely tell a referee to stand between them. But only us three knew that there would be no problem if the ref wasn't there. Then the talking started. The smaller blond diva started first. It was all rehearsed, even though it didn't sound like it. She hated to say the things she was forced to say because it only made the pain worse. I tried not to flinch as I saw the pain behind the hazel eyes of the perfect human being standing across the ring. Now it was my turn to say something. Of course, it was some cheesy line about whores and what not. It always was. After that was done, it was my job to hand the mic to the beautiful creature standing there so strongly. She glanced in my eyes for a split second as the now warm plastic of the mic traded from my rough hands into her soft precious skin. Her words started to come out, hazel eyes acting as a barrier against the tears. They were some of the strongest words I have ever heard. Full of pain and sorrow, they were still full of truth and meaning. Once she was done the whole crowd was silent for a little more than a split second. It seemed like everyone was soaking in her words. It didn't last for too long because of the obnoxious music that came blaring throughout the entire arena. I saw her eyes turn a shade darker than I have ever seen them. The soft hazel transformed into dark brown as she turned to see a man cruel enough to be the devil.

And that was taking it easy.

Inside this man's arms was what she gazed at next. A bundle of something was inside his arms, emitting a soft but shrill cry. He held this in one hand and a mic in the other. He starting spewing out his words, like poison oozing out of a venomous cut. I watched her as she focused on the small package inside his arms; the words were just background noise.

My heart almost exploded; my anger followed.

He made it into the ring, and was asking her to hold on to what was now revealed: a live baby. The poor girl didn't need this. She was trembling but she wouldn't back down as she barely stretched her arms out. It was as if she was reaching out not only for the bundle, but for hope. She barely got her arms up before he ripped away the bundle…and the hope. He was now screaming at her. She shouldn't be screamed at. She was delicate. Her heart couldn't take that. Yet I couldn't get myself to move. I heard in the softest whisper that she was praying. I wasn't sure if it was for the life that was depending on the arms of this untrustworthy man in front of us, or for herself. The man dropped the mic, which made a deplorable thud when it hit the ring. This made us all look down. Once we all looked up, we saw the figure of a baby being unmercifully kicked…punted into the crowd. Both my instinct and her instinct was to duck, and I heard her tiny scream. We looked out to see a crowd member holding the baby doll up in the air like a trophy. It was sickening. We turned back to the man just in time to see him laughing like someone told a joke.

Like this was all a joke.

She backed up; the tears in her eyes threatened to fall. She turned to me, and I grabbed her hands. I was in desperate need to let her know I was there for her. It was then that I heard her whisper, I can't do this anymore. Then she spun around to face the man himself. Everything was a blur after that. I was on his ass faster than he could react. Over and over my hands hit his skull, making sure that he was feeling nothing but pain. But this wasn't even half the pain the woman who was now outside of the ring was feeling. I dropped him to the outside of the ring, and I dropped kicked him through the ropes. I then dropped to the outside and started to go after him, but was stopped by a big boot to the face. I could pretty much say that knocked me out cold. But I can still remember what happened after that.

It was like watching a movie. My whole life was like a movie.

Because my name is Chris. Chris Jericho.

The blond girl standing outside the ring goes by the name of Trish Stratus.

The man who ruined all of our lives was now walking up the ramp. He was known as Gene Snitsky.

And the broken diva now sitting against the side of the ring is named Lita. Actually, her name is Amy.

Amy Dumas.

And she just happened to be my baby sister.

And her life has been ruined.

By me.