DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. The characters belong to WWE and Vince McMahon. This is a work of fiction and I claim no knowledge of the actual events that went on in real life.
A typical summer had arrived in San Antonio and with it an air that made everything feel vibrant and alive. The evening's last warm rays of sunshine fell through the large windows in his living room and Shawn briefly wondered why he felt so cold. However, to be fair, lately not much could really touch him. He closed the curtains, engulfing the place in darkness. It seemed only fitting for the emptiness that filled his home. The world outside may have kept on turning, but to him it felt like life had been sucked out of him and everything around him.
Heavily Shawn sank down into the recliner and switched on the TV. Anything to drown out the silence that was threatening to suffocate him these days. He had never been one to wallow in self-pity, but a broken back would do that to you, he assumed. Flipping through channels, he stopped on the USA Network. Was it Monday already? The all-too-familiar intro was just fading to Jim Ross' voice welcoming the viewers to another spectacular episode of RAW. He wanted to turn it off but just couldn't. So he watched on as his friends and foes alike simply excelled in the spotlight that used to be his. He remembered what it was like to feed off the roar of the crowd, the adrenaline rush when you jumped from a ladder for yet another crazy spot – or just the high after a perfectly executed match, knowing you once again stole the show.
Now all of that was gone and he was forced to the sidelines. God, and it still hurt. Being away from the life he used to breathe and bleed twenty-four seven was much more excruciating than the physical pain he currently had to deal with. He couldn't kid himself any longer, despite rehab his back wasn't getting any better. Deep down he had known right from the beginning that he was clutching at straws. Now with each passing day he realized more that he would never get back into that ring. It was only a matter of time until the word "surgery" couldn't be avoided anymore. Even in his state, denial only went so far. Then his fate would be sealed – or should he say fused as that would be what was going to happen to his back?
Shawn let out a bitter laugh. The show went on without him. It had not stopped when the Showstopper had left the building.
The sore truth of that hit home all the harder as he saw the reformed DX make their way to the ring. It sure hadn't taken Hunter long to pick up the ball and run with it. He was thriving with his new gang of misfits and Shawn couldn't help but resent him for it. The fucker had probably just waited for a chance to kick him to the curb and take over. There would be no HHH if good ol' HBK hadn't taken him under his wing. It was funny how easily people forgot that when success went to their head. And his "best friend" could stick those allegedly concerned messages on his answering machine where the sun didn't shine. As if Hunter really cared now that he had it all while Shawn was picking up the pieces of what was left of his life.
Angrily, he threw the remote at the TV, the station changing to static in the process. He grabbed the small bottle of prescription drugs on the table next to him and dry swallowed a handful. Leaning back into the chair, he let the bottle haphazardly fall to the ground. The white noise still flickering across the screen blurred together while he was waiting for the pills to work their magic and make him forget for a while at least. When the phone started ringing yet again and another worried message was left, Shawn was already passed out.