Chapter 8: WWE Raw 9/9/24

WWE Raw

September 9th, 2024

Calgary, Alberta, Canada

THIS IS MY BRUTALITY!

Rhea stormed toward the ring as fast as her crutch and bung knee would carry her, ready to take on hell itself. She limped out there to defend Damian and his honor - and his body from the vicious attack from Judgment Day. It was made for TV, but the pain was real. She could feel it radiating from him as she approached.

Dom hopped out of the ring and blocked her path while Liv rushed up behind her. Enough was enough. Gritting her teeth, Rhea took hold of that crutch and jammed it into Liv's stomach. Liv cried out and fell. Rhea turned to Dom and punched him. Gripping her crutch like a bat, she nailed Dom in the nuts and smacked him to the ground. Liv kicked her in her bung knee. Rhea cried out, and down she fell. Dom looked on. She thought she had caught a flicker of concern as he crouched to her level, his face close to hers. That is, until she saw his venomous sneer.

Rhea felt herself being dragged into the ring. She pulled her body to the rope, and Liv hit her in the back with the crutch - then pounded on her knee. Rhea howled. In a haze of agony, she saw Dom wailing on Damian while the others held him down. But his eyes were locked on her as Liv continued to deliver blow after blow to her screaming knee. Rhea moaned, writhing and rolling onto her stomach.

Something hard dug into the back of her neck, shoving her face into the mat. She reached her hands behind her head, trying and failing to push off the crutch handle. Her swatting weakened as she struggled to breathe. Rhea felt a cold chill as consciousness threatened to abandon her…

Then the warmth of Damian's body was on her. How he'd crawled away from his beating to take hers, she didn't know. But she was grateful… and scared for him. Her stomach twisted with every one of Damian's shutters. All she heard was hard slaps and labored grunts through hitching breaths.

Rhea felt Damian's weight pulled off her. Through failing sights, she witnessed Carlito and JD stretching out Damian while Dom slammed the crutch repeatedly into his ribs. All she could do was reach for him as she panted and squirmed. She was absolutely useless. She was worse than useless. She brought the weapon to the fight that they had turned on Damian.

Suddenly, Judgment Day scrammed. Jey ran by Rhea with a steel chair, then circled back without it. Crouching between her and Damian, he took her hand. "Are you okay?"

Rhea gulped back pain, struggling to catch her breath. She looked at her Terror Twin. He was curled in a ball, rolling and cradling his neck. The cold chill returned.

"Damian," she breathed.

Jey raised his other hand, which held Damian's. "We've got him." He hoisted Damian onto one side and Rhea on the other, helping them walk down the ramp. She heard cheers and people calling out to her, their voices distant. Her vision narrowed, and she lost consciousness.


Rhea blinked her eyes open and tried to sit up. Her back and head screamed at her. Hand to her head, she laid back down. She took in her surroundings. She heard beeping and faraway chatter. A strip light overhead flickered a dim glimmer over grey ceiling and walls, a whiteboard with scrawling script, a couple chairs and side tables, a modest sized TV, a couple rolling trays… and Damian lying motionless in a hospital bed across the room. Her eyes widened.

Rhea pulled herself up against a wall of pain. She reeled but gritted her teeth and pushed herself into a sitting position. She felt the tug of a blood pressure cuff on her bicep and slid it off. The monitor beside her urgently beeped. She slapped at buttons and switches until it shut the hell up.

Then she looked at Damian, so still and with eyes shut. An oxygen tube ran from a wall unit to his nose. She gasped, tears in her eyes.

Rhea spotted a wheelchair at her bedside. Even when she stretched out her foot, she couldn't reach it. She shimmied down the bed, pushing off the partial bed rails as best she could. Pain shocked her left leg - all the more when she finally hooked those toes under the back of the wheelchair. The wheels were locked in place. She yanked her foot back, hissing but managing to get the chair to her hand. She slid off the bed and into the wheelchair. Her knee hit hard. She folded forward, biting back a scream. She swallowed hard and focused on her breath until it evened.

At long last, Rhea sat upright and wheeled herself to Damian's side. She rested her hand on his arm. "I'm here," she assured him.

She took in Damian's pale blue hospital gown – just like the one she realized she was wearing. His features were void of color, save for blue tinted lips. Even his signature guyliner had faded. She touched his cheek, startled by its chill. Her mind flashed back to Damian's warm form over her, shielding her from Liv. She felt the phantom shutters and heard the echoes of Damian gasping for breath amidst his ragged grunts as he took her beating – her punishment for bringing that damn crutch to those fuckers. She did this to him, she thought as she choked on tears. She was the last person he thought he had in his corner, and she had betrayed him with her stupidity.

"I'm sorry, Damian," Rhea whispered. "I fucked up, big time. I can never make up for what I've done or repay you for what you've done for me. I don't deserve you." Her breath hitched as she inhaled. She traced her hand along his jawline, startled by the IV line taped to her arm and the needle embedded in her vein. "I'm here. You're not alone. I don't want you to feel alone ever again. You have a lot of people in your corner. You are loved." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I need you," she breathed. She held his hand and gently kissed his bruised knuckles.

"He is going to be okay," a soft voice said.

Rhea turned to the middle-aged female nurse standing in the doorway.

"It's good to see you awake," the nurse continued. "Do you need anything?"

Rhea wiped her tears with the heels of her free hand. "What happened to him?" Scenes from the ring that night came on in full force, and she closed her eyes. "I mean, medically."

The nurse pulled over a chair and sat beside her. She looked Rhea in the eye. "He has a displaced rib fracture that punctured his left lung," she spoke softly. "Thankfully, the puncture is small. He will need to stay overnight for oxygen therapy and another X-ray in the morning to ensure that his lung hasn't collapsed again."

Rhea's stomach sank. Her features crumpled. "Again?!"

The nurse put a hand on Rhea's shoulder. "Sorry, I should have led with that. We did have to use a hollow needle to express the excess air that got into the pleural cavity of his lung when it punctured. He was sedated, so he didn't feel a thing."

Rhea realized that she was openly sobbing, and she didn't care. "Has he been unconscious the whole time."

The nurse shook her head. "He was alert when he got here and only went under for the procedure. Actually, he was a lively one, demanding to be here with you when we gave him a private room. We had to get all your testing done as fast as we could. He was getting a little ornery for answers whenever we took you out for testing and wouldn't have his procedure until your tests came back clear. He was more concerned about you than he was for himself."

Furrowing her brow, Rhea replied, "What testing? There's nothing really wrong with me, right?" She didn't find the nurse's grimace reassuring.

The nurse took a deep breath. "He's not the only one who might need surgery at a later date," she divulged. "You know your knee isn't well, but were you aware that you have a patellar fracture? It isn't new."

"A what?!"

"You broke your kneecap," the nurse explained.

Rhea's eyes widened. "I didn't know it was broken."

"You should have been able to tell from the pain." The nurse patted her shoulder. "But I get it. You're tough, and I respect that. At the same time, you need to take care of yourself and make sure this heals right. Otherwise, you will need to get the kneecap replaced."

The last thing Rhea wanted was bloody surgery. She knew it was the nature of her line of work, but so far, she had managed to avoid it and intended to continue to do so.

The nurse took in a breath, then added, "We also have concerns that you have experienced some type of traumatic brain injury. You were unconscious when you arrived, and the paramedics reported that you vomited a few times on the way here, nearly aspirating. Damian said that you passed out in the ring shortly after another wrestler struck you repeatedly with a crutch and jammed it full force into the base of your skull. Are you still experiencing nausea?"

Rhea's eyes returned to Damian's still form. She was sick to her stomach, but how could she tell if it was a head injury or situational? "A little."

"Do you remember the events that Damian described?"

Rhea nodded. If only she could forget.

"How is your head and neck feeling?"

"I'm a little lightheaded, I guess. And I have a headache." Rhea droned. Really, she was far more concerned about Damian's recovery than her own.

"I will let the doctor know, see if what we can give you for that," the nurse replied. "Your head CT and MRI came back unremarkable, which is a good sign. This is most likely a concussion, but keep an eye on new, worsening, or persistent symptoms."

Rhea nodded, eyes on Damian.

The nurse stood and patted Rhea's back. "I meant it when I said that he will be okay. I don't know much about what you both do for a living, but I can tell from all the scars that you two are strong. And I can also see how much you support and love each other. It's going to be all right so long as you hold to that." She lowered her hand from Rhea's back. "I'll let the doctor know you're awake. And I'll get you those pain meds."

Rhea watched the nurse leave the room, then returned her sights to Damian – still motionless and vulnerable. This man, who had confessed that she mattered to him more than anything and who would take a bullet for her – and pretty much had. She laid her reeling head on his hand. "I love you, Damian," she whispered before sleep overcame her.

Next thing she knew, she was awakening to the sound of Damian's voice. "You can't sleep like that, Rhea. You're going to wreck your neck even worse."

She already had. As she sat up in her wheelchair, pain ripped through her skull and spine. Her world spun, and Damian lunged for her with a groan. He cradled her head in his hands before she could get a hand there herself.

"Easy there," he murmured, still holding on and breathing heavy. "Easy. Are you doing okay?"

She glanced at his chest. "You need to be careful with that lung."

Damian held Rhea's gaze. "But are you okay?" His eyes were intense, even without guyliner emphasis – maybe more so as he seemed to be looking right into her with rapid, shallow breaths.

She really wasn't. Sweet interludes amidst physical and mental anguish threw her into the ultimate mindfuck. Her emotions blared full force. She smiled and sobbed, chuckling at the mess of herself. He hugged her head into his side, which was the best they could really embrace considering their current predicaments. Rhea closed her eyes, appreciating his warmth more than ever.

"You scared me last night, kid," Damian confessed. "You took that hard blow to the head. You passed out and threw up a few times in the ambulance. They kept having to get you onto your side so you wouldn't choke. A couple of times, it sounded like you had. I thought I might lose you. And I can't…" his voice broke.

They both cried, holding onto one another as best they could.

"I love you so much, Rhea," Damian said through tears. "I can't lose you."

"I love you too," she replied. "You have so many people who care about you. I don't want you to feel like I'm the only one who has your back… although I promise not to bring anymore crutches to the ring ever again."

He laughed, then sniffled and clutched her closer to him.