Chapter Sixteen

It was over. The stupid feud, which now seemed even stupider than ever, was over. I got to start fresh, new. I got to start my career as a WWE wrestler. More importantly, I officially got to start my life with John Cena. My man. In and out of the ring.

I'm never one to gloat, but in this case I would have if she was around. I wanted to dance around in circles, chanting "I beat you, I beat you," over and over again. I knew that was too childish, so I refrained.

Cena took me out for dinner that night. We 'celebrated' afterwards. I took that time to memorized everything I could about him. How his soft skin felt against mine. How his blue eyes glistened whenever he looked into my glittering green ones. The curvature of his chin in my shoulder. The ripples of muscle I felt while running my hands down his stomach. Everything. Now this was truly the perfection that I was striving for. It was also something I never believed I'd achieve. That, in itself, is a miracle.

The next week was when it truly got interesting, and when my world would come crashing down. It was my first concrete air-time on Cena's arm. First an interview with Maria, then build-up for a main event match. The next pay-per-view was already getting hype to who was going to be the next #1 contender for the WWE title.

The match was next, and I wasn't dressed yet.

It was hell, to say the least. I had my cellphone ringing, my hair sopping wet, and a pile of new cloths laying on the couch just crying out for me. I didn't even mind the tightness, or the fact that my wet hair was damaging my nice silk shirt and causing it to stick even closer to my back. I grabbed a hair-tie with one hand, my cellphone with the other, and expertly put my hair up into the messiest bun I could muster with only one hand. It turned out to be a pony-tail, but the saturated-ness was only slightly noticeable. I knew it was JC calling me - probably telling me to hurry my ass up - so I just threw it on the table once more. Then, I completely laced up my boots (which went all the way to the knee! Try doing that in, like, two seconds.), then literally ran as fast as I could down the hallway.

Cena's music was already playing when I made it to the curtain, and I was left in his wake as he pushed his way through.

Just made it... I sighed to myself, stepping in rhythm with him as he made his way down the ramp. "Where the hell were you?" He asked, his lips barely moving as I started up towards the ropes.

"I thought I had enough time to take a shower!" I explained, waiting him to open up the bottom rope for me. He was a gentleman like that. I sat on the top turnbuckle, like he had placed me that one time we were practicing, and watched as he did his thing.

Then his opponent came out.

Johnny Nitro accompanied by the ever so lovely, (cough) annoying (cough), bag of screams he calls a girlfriend, Melina.

How this main event even happened, I'm not sure.

They strutted down the ring, the faux pauperizes following their every step. Melina did her split, which actually made me vomit in my mouth a little, then they completed their entrance with all the theatrics of a bum on Vaudeville. Seriously. "A-list superstars"? Yeah, only if the "A" stands for "Ass-Kiss". Is anyone else disgusted by these posers? Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Nitro was in a match with JC, and I was stuck on the sidelines listening to the banshee scream her guts out. I had never hugged my ears tighter, and I know King made a joke about it.

But while I'm making fun, I will announce that this is when everything started going down hill...

There had been an interference on the part of Joey Mercury, which had caused Cena way more trouble than it should have. No one was paying attention to their scripts anymore; it was a chaotic free-for-all.

Cena had his back turned when Joey came down to the ring, while a distraction was being caused Melina who had fixed herself a spot on the apron. I, also, was distracted (by pulling the banshee off the apron) and didn't notice until it was too late. Mercury jogged around the ring, took Cena's WWE title belt from the announce table, and slid it to his partner who was supposedly "knocked-out". All was good so far. Cena was supposed to turn around, intercept a blow from Mercury and deliver an FU. Then he was supposed to take his title back, all the while the ref was distracted by the fight going on between me and Melina, and deliver another FU, leaving the tag team lying in a heap on the canvas.

Notice I said, supposed to...

Nitro hugged the championship to his chest, hiding it from view, while Mercury hit his cue and climb through the bottom rope. Cena was watching the side-line match between me and Melina, and was the first to notice when something was wrong. I had gotten the ligaments in my right knee reconstructed when I was sixteen years old, due to a softball incident. The same ligaments, which were never quite the same afterwards, were being stressed as Melina shoved her shoulder into them.

My kneecap popped and severed the ligaments...

I was rolling in pain, screaming at the pure agony I was in. The worst part was that the match couldn't be stopped just because of me. And even worse than that, Melina couldn't just stopped pummeling me for no reason. She didn't know it had happened. The ref didn't know it happened. The audience didn't know it happened. But I did, and Cena did too. He was so preoccupied with my current state, he froze in time and completely and forgot what was supposed to happen.

Cena lost the match that night, but it was lucky it wasn't a title match.