..this is a one-shot I've written just recently. I wrote it for Tink's Jovial Song-Fic contest and won First Place! ..I'm rather proud of it myself.
..so please READ AND REVIEW! ..I love em
Author - Candy
Title - The Blood of Passion
Rating - R. For mentions of sex, self abuse, cutting, death, and alcohol. Discretion is advised.
Pairing - John Cena/Maria
Song Used - Bed of Roses
Summary - All he knew was that he had murdered their passion with a knife covered in the blood of another woman, and she hadn't so much as realized it.
Disclaimer - All characters belong to Vince McMahon and themselves. The song "Bed of Roses" belongs to Bon Jovi.
'I'll never hurt you,
I will never make you cry.'
I must admit, my love,
you told the perfect lie.
John Cena sighed to himself, tossing around in his sleep as he tangled himself up in the thin sheets, a wild dream in his mind that wouldn't escape him. No matter how many times he tried, he simply couldn't slip into that half-dead state of mind. And when his eyes fluttered open twenty minutes later, his body covered in a thin film of sweat, he realized why. He was alone.
Rubbing his eyes, John sat up in bed, groaning at the stiff pain in his neck and back. Turning to his side, he flicked on the light next to him, the dim bulb flickering on and off a few times before setting a low glow to the less than flattering hotel room.
Upon the pillow where her head usually laid was a small piece of paper, one that he realized even smelled like her as he picked it up. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he unfolded the note, reading that soft, familiar handwriting.
" John -
Went out with a few of the girls for the night. Don't wait up for me, I'll probably be late.
Have a good night.
Love, Maria. "
Releasing a long sigh through his nostrils, the rapper let his head fall back against the wooden headboard. No wonder he couldn't sleep, it was only 10:13 and Maria wasn't with him. Two very good reasons not to fall asleep in the first place.
Taking his cell phone from the small table next to him, he listened to his messages. The first was from Maria, letting him know she'd be back around 1:30. And the other was from none other than Romeo, inviting him to the bar that the hotel was almost famous for with a bunch of the guys.
And as he swung his feet over the side of the bed, searching the room for his bag to change, he decided to do just that.
An hour later, with the room spinning and yet another empty glass in his hand, John sat alone with his head pressed against the bar, wondering why in the hell he decided to come down. Sure, it had been fun at first, but now that he could barley walk he needed to leave .. and soon. If only he had it in himself to refuse another drink from the bartender, and the will to ignore the gorgeous blonde eyeing him from the corner.
"You alright, man?"
Finally managing to pick his head up, John fixed his eyes on the blurry form in front of him. Blinking a few times didn't seem to help bring the image into focus.
"Jooooohn," He sang again. "Are ya there?"
The gruff - almost comical - voice was unmistakable. And as John stared for a bit longer, the muscular blob in front of him finally started to take form.
"Ooooh, hay, Romeo!" John laughed loudly, swinging himself around in his bar stool. "I couldn't tell who ya were there for a minute."
"You couldn't tell who you're best friend was?" The Heartthrob hunk arched a brow at his disheveled friend, eyeing the empty glass he held in his hand. "That's pretty sad, dude. How many drinks have you had?"
"Uhh," John lifted up the glass in his hand, making a face when he realized it was empty and flagged down the bartender. "Just three ..er four,"
"Three or four?" Romeo repeated, placing a hand on his hip. "John, you're wasted. Why don't you go-"
Romeo stopped himself when he realized John was paying no attention to him whatsoever, instead, the Massachusetts native had his head perked up like a dog that just spotted something shiny, eyeing an object from across the bar. "Whatcha lookin' at?" Romeo asked, turning himself around to test if he could see what John was gawking over.
"Ya see that chick over there? The blonde one?" He extended his arm and pointed a few yards away, and when Romeo looked, sure enough, a young and beautiful girl with blonde hair was eyeing him suggestively.
"Yeaaah," The brown-haired wrestler turned back to his rapper friend, mentally berating himself for inviting him down here in the first place. "What about her?"
"I'm gonna go talk to her," John announced proudly, puffing out his already muscular chest as he jumped off his stool. Walking in front of the speechless Romeo, he gave a quick spin, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt and wiping his face. "How do I look?"
"Dude, you like fine, but-"
Before could Romeo bring up the forgotten fact that John was a taken man, he bounded off towards the blonde, leaving behind his dumbfounded best friend, who wondered what in the hell he was thinking when he invited John to join the group.
The blonde had been watching the muscular man from across the bar ever since he had walked in an hour earlier. With his height and physique she couldn't help but stare. God, he was beautiful. And it was then she decided that it'd be her name he'd be calling later in the night. She'd bet her life on it.
After a while, he obviously didn't realize the drinks she told the bartender to send his way weren't free refills. So now that she had assisted with getting the big man drunk as hell, she could make her move.
Lucky for her, she didn't even have to move. The tall, handsome man was the one approaching her, a big horny grin on his face.
"Hey, big boy." She grinned widely, twirling a strand of bleach blonde hair around her finger, giving him a playful wink. "I've been waitin for you to talk to me all night,"
"Really?" He managed to slur out, wrapping one of his powerful arms around her waist. "You wanna.. go somewhere?"
The blonde let out a forced giggle, her eyes firing up when she realized she had him right where she wanted him - wrapped around her little finger. "I'd love to," She spoke seductively, placing a hand on his chest as she let him back through the bar. "What do you say we go back to your room, hm?"
John let out a low groan, a throbbing and uncontrollable pain taking over his body. The temperature was almost overbearing, his body covered in sweat as it tangled itself in the thin sheets.
Turning over, he reached for the silent form next to him, burying his face in the beautiful hair as it cascaded over the pillow.
"Maria.." He mumbled, his lips barley moving as he finally opened his eyes. As the dark orbs adjusted to the darkness around him, John realized something wasn't right. Maria's hair wasn't blonde..
John brought himself up to his knees, although his pain had been disagreeing with him, and peered down at the woman laying next to him. That wasn't his.. That wasn't Maria.
As he hovered over the woman whom he faintly recognized, she started to shift in her sleep, her eyes falling on him the instant they opened.
At first, all there had been was a silence.
But as John started to realize whom the woman had been, and what must've happened, he jumped from the bed, his nakedness now very clear.
"What are you doing here, Trish?"
She curled her lip, sitting up and bringing the sheet with her, as to cover up her chest. "You let me in, dumbass. Don't you remember?"
John blinked, his face contorted in a deep confusion. ..Did he remember? Sorta. His eyes flew to the clock.. 1:07. Maria would be home soon..
And in one defining blow, it hit him. Every moan and blissful memory of the two hours prior came flooding back.
His eyes flew back to Trish, the anger inside of him deep and fierce. "Get out," He yelled through gritted teeth, throwing Trish's clothes in her direction as she rose from the bed. "Get the fuck outta here,"
Throwing a shirt over her head, Trish scrambled to her feet, her body tired and appearance disheveled. "What's a matter, John?" She grinned at him widely, slipping her jeans back on as she gathered the rest of her stuff into her arms, her eyes not leaving his the entire time, "..ashamed of what you did?"
"Tell anyone, Trish.." John began, his voice quiet but strong. "And you'll regret it for whatever is left of your life,"
A frown marring her face at the comment, Trish narrowed her eyes at him, "Enjoy your personal demons, John," Making her way to the door, the blonde flung it open, her eyes still on his, "'Cause we both know they're gonna eat at you.. And by the time anyone finds out about this, you'll already be gone."
"John? John, good God, are you okay?"
The wrestler was vaguely aware of the presence above him as it cradled his body, hands that were not his own - although familiar - caressing his face.
"Baby, talk to me. What happened?"
The second he let his eyes fall half-open, they fell open the woman above him, one he recognized this time. "Maria..?"
"Yeah," She mumbled, her voice cracking in the process. "Baby, I'm here. Are you okay?"
John let his eyes fall shut again, loving the feeling of her as she touched him ever so gently.. Although he could barley feel it over his pain. "I - I dunno,"
Shaking her head, Maria placed a cold washcloth over his head, patting the sweat away. "You went out drinking, didn't you?"
He made a face, frowning at the words she spoke. She caught him red-handed. He must've passed out after…
Maria's feminine little sigh cut off his thought as he felt her lower his head back onto the ground, and got up to do whatever it was that she needed to do.
Meanwhile, John laid still, his battered body limp and sprawled across the floor. His head ached, his body ached, but his chest seemed to hurt the most. Opening his eyes, he could only see blurry outlines of what his hotel room was supposed to be. He could see Maria, gathering up towels and blankets and digging through her bag of medicines.
He wanted to touch her, to hold her and beg her forgiveness. He tried to call out her name, but it had been so quiet she did not hear him, and his reach fell far too short.
Oh..the pain. He'd to anything to relieve it.
(( The next night. Raw arena. ))
It was his secret. His secret and his secret alone. She wouldn't find out.. No, she couldn't.
The wrestler wandered through the back halls aimlessly, his eyes on his colorful sneakers as they walked an endless trail of circles he had built himself.
He wanted to keep this his own.. His own dirty little secret that'd haunt him until the day his pitiful body shut down, it's restless and tortured spirit leaving it behind.
Sure, he could do that… if he died tomorrow.
John sighed, all thoughts that didn't have to do with Maria shoved so far into the back of his mind they became almost nonexistent. Should be tell her..? Should he pretend it never happened? .. God damn it, he didn't know.
All he knew was that he had murdered their passion with a knife covered in the blood of another woman, and she hadn't so much as realized it.
His eyes flew to the petite womanly form as it bounded to him, that melodic voice that called his name.. Little did she know, every time she spoke, whatever was left of his pitiful heart was torn from his chest, then shattered into thousands of little pieces.
"Hey, baby." His voice, nothing more than a hollow whisper, empty of all feelings as was the smile he had forced to his face. "Where'd you come from?"
"Just getting ready," The little brunette replied, smiling innocently up at him as she wrapped his arms around her own frame.
God… it just about killed him. It was Maria. Her scent, her hair, her gentle little hug. It was all her… but somehow, all he could see was that other woman. The one whom he'd spent a bliss-filled night with. The one that he'd left hours ago, but she somehow still remind with him.
"Oh," John nodded, biting down onto his lip as hard as he could until he felt the pressure release, then a thin liquid trickle back into his dry mouth.
Maria pulled away from, her smile fading as fast as he was when she saw the blood, her eyes wide, stricken with a worrisome confusion. "You're bleeding.. What happened?"
She reached to his lip to touch him, but he pulled away swiftly, bringing his own fingers there, letting them dwindle in the pooling red liquid as it now trickled down his chin. "I bit my lip earlier, I guess I broke it open again."
The little diva grabbed his hand, bringing him closer to her, trying against his will to study his wound. "..does it hurt?"
He looked down at her, the simple question she had asked causing a stir of empty emotions to rustle inside him. He knew what she meant.. But unfortunately for her, she didn't. "..y - yeah."
Maria looked behind her, down the gray and endless hallway, seeing no one. "Do you want me to get a doctor? That doesn't look too good, John."
Wincing at the sound of her lovely voice saying his name, he brought his hand up to his aching lip - which was nothing compared to what he was feeling inside of him - and took a few steps back. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Why don't you go finish getting ready? I can handle this myself,"
Looking up at him quizzically, her hands on her hips, the woman pursed her lips together, as if to be deep in thought. "You sure?"
When he nodded a solemn nod, she responded with a slight smile. "Okay, baby." Not even checking to see if she had somehow touched the blood covering his chin, she threw herself into his strong embrace.
His hug was nothing .. Weak and empty like he himself had been ever since that night.. But somehow, she didn't seem to notice.
And after that, he watched her walk away.
Leaving him to face his pain alone, while she went off to handle her own little life, where imperfections seemed so slight.. or in his case, hidden, as secrets of a silent death.
The blood had stopped long before, but John hadn't bothered to wipe the blood that covered his chin and t-shirt. And so, it stayed there, the crusted red substance staining his skin.
But it meant nothing. It was the afterlife of a stinging pain.. one he fully deserved. Although Maria had been the cause of it, John had brought it upon himself, with not even a slight regret as to how he'd done it.
He sat back against the cold, stone wall. His arm, draped across his arched knee, and his other laying limp next to him. Not knowing what to do, nor the reason to do it, John simply sat, his own mind tormenting the hell out of him.
It had been a mistake..an honest, horrible mistake.
But, God.. Why was it killing him?
He'd do anything to take it back… absolutely anything.
"Well, well, well…look who we have here,"
That familiar voice rung to his ears, causing his blood to boil, his skin's hue changing to a sticky white. Turning in the direction of the clicking heels, John met the cold eyes of his mistress, a sly smirk across her face.
"What do you want, Trish?"
The Woman's champ let out a small huff of a dry laughter, walking towards him still, her muscular arms folded defensively under her bosom. "You look like pure shit, John. It's killing you, isn't it?"
The rapper turned away, his jaw clenched tightly so as to keep himself from verbally striking out.
"..don't worry, you don't have to answer. I can tell you're already half-dead." Trish laughed slightly, shifting her belt high onto her shoulder as she brought herself lower, to his eye level. "You fucked me behind her back, sweetheart. Ain't nothing gonna change that.."
John's eyes flew to hers, the fire inside him growing by the second. His hands were balled up, his jaw tight, his body tense as he watched her every movement..
"I suppose you haven't told her, have you?"
He didn't respond. She knew the answer.
The blonde laughed a wicked laugher in return, her brown eyes locked on his as her laugher quickly faded into a scowl, then, she reached for him, slapping him across the cheek. "You're pathetic," she spat. "It wasn't even that good, anyways."
Before she could even react, John came to his feet his, heavy form hovering over her as she fell onto her back, looking up at him with terror-stricken eyes.
"What's that, Trish?" John yelled through his teeth, reaching down and pulling Trish up by her hair, bringing her now pale face within a hair's breath of his own. "..I don't think I heard you the first time,"
All Trish could do was whimper, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggled, her feet barley touching the ground. She was terrified.. like he knew she'd be.
"Please… John.. Don't.."
"Please? Please what?" He demanded, forcing her back against the wall, his free hand finding it's way to her feminine neck, the marks he had left upon them still faintly remaining. "More? Is that what you want, Trish? ..because if I remember correctly, that's exactly what you wanted last night.."
"No.." She whimpered, her cheeks flushed, the tears causing the black of her eyes to run. "S - stop.."
John paused for a beat, his eyes scanning the form in front of him. Trish's face was flushed and wet, her usually pretty eyes wide with fear, the knuckles on her hands a pure white while they clutched his own as he wrapped it around her neck.
Could he hurt her physically? Yes.. But was it necessary? Maybe not. She'd get the message.
Letting his eyes fall back to hers, he tightened the grip that he had on her neck, feeding off of the fear that emitted so thickly from her. "I don't love you, Trish."
Pausing for a beat, letting his words soak in, he dropped her, and watched with only the slightest bit of satisfaction as her fear-stricken body ran away.
He could've been standing there for minutes.. hours, even. But John really hadn't been counting. He wanted to make sure Trish wouldn't dare come back, nor did she.
Letting out a low sigh, John held his head low, making his way back to the locker room, but suddenly froze in his tracks when he heard her little, feminine whimper, "John..?"
One glimpse at the look she had frozen on her face, and John knew immediately there was something seriously wrong. Had she witnessed it..? No, she couldn't have..
"Baby?" He quickened his pace, wanting to get to her as fast as he possibly could, "Maria? What? What's wrong?"
The little diva shook her head, taking slow steps back to get away from him, as if he'd been some harmful ghost. "Y - you.. and .. T - Trish?"
"No, no.. baby-" John bit his bottom lip, stopping his words before he could tell her yet another lie. As he stopped taking steps towards him, she stopped taking steps away. "Wha - what did you see, Maria?"
Maria looked up at him, her little body trembling as she wrapped her arms around it. "What was she talking about, John?"
Before giving her some sort of answer, John drew in a long and heavy breath, his palms beginning to sweat profusely. "..what did it sound like?"
A silent and lonely tear slipped from her eye, and John watched as it slowly fell down her cheek until it disappeared upon the corner of her lips. "..don't say it, John," She whispered softly, "Don't tell me you cheated on me.."
He held his head low, forcing his eyes away from her, although it hadn't relieved the pain. Upon hearing her choked little sob, he looked up again, to see her crying harshly into her hands.
But when he reached to comfort her, she spun on her heel and began to walk away. Almost as an instinct - or had it been from tradition? - he ran after her. "Maria, baby, I'm so sorry.."
The little brunette shook her head, waving him off as she quickened her pace. She needed to get away from him.. and soon. "Save it, John.." Maria spat, "I don't need to hear it,"
"No, sweetheart, it wasn't like that.."
Maria froze in her tracks, spinning back around to face him, her eyes narrowing as she stood scowling at his presence. "Wasn't like that?" She repeated, "Wasn't like that!"
The little woman huffed pathetically, waving her hand in dismissal. "..you cheated on me, John. It can't be any other way."
When she once again turned from him, he grabbed her upper arm gently, only causing her to spin back around and slap his hand away in return.
Maria stared him down coldly, her cheeks flushed and eyes brimmed with beautiful tears of a hateful love. "I hate you."
And with that, she walked away, leaving him behind.
John stood there, frozen in his spot, his eyes still on the endless hallway his one and only love had walked down earlier…where she had left him behind for who knows how long..maybe even forever.
She had been crying to release all her emotions, in the form of tears.
He looked down at his wrists, the blue veins vaguely poking through.. He'd have to release his emotions in another form..
Running his hands over his neck, face, and bare chest, John let what little fingernails he had dig shallow carvings into his skin. His hand was trembling, his breathing heavy. But he needed this.
Digging into the depths of his cargo pockets, John pulled out his switchblade, holding it up to the ceiling as the dim light reflected off of it.
Holding the back of the blade against his thumb, John held the sharp edge within a hair's breath of the skin of his upper chest. After one last scan down the hallway, he dug the blade deeply into his skin, taking in a sharp breath at the sudden sting of pain.
The path of the blade continued, then stopped amidst his lower stomach. As he removed the blade, he was pleased to discover it had been coated with a dripping, deep red substance. And his chest had been no different.
It was dripping wildly now, down his chest, onto his baggy shorts.
But this was his own damn fault.
Bringing the blade back to his suffering chest, he cut another, this time horizontally. And just like the one before it, it bled profusely.
Letting his head fall back, John felt the pain sweep through him, taking in a sweet breath. The sensations had been heavy, a beautiful pressure relief. But it was not enough.
After one shorter cut to the left side of his neck, then more on the bottom of his arms, John felt the pressure and pain and all emotions drain from him, hollowing his already empty body.
With legs that couldn't hold is weight, a mind that wouldn't think, and eyes that could no longer see, he stumbled sideways, making contact with the heavy, white wall. A sorry excuse for support, but it was all he had.
He held his chest against the wall, the blood still running, pooling beneath him. The red substance stained the wall, the blood from his arms causing the stain to grow.
John took a step back, eyeing the spot of red that was as large as he was. Pressing against his chest wound to produce more fluids, he gathered it into his cupped hands, then smeared it against the wall. It stayed, it ran, it was highly visible.
Maria did this. This was for her and only her. Oh… Maria.
Leaning his forehead against the wall, John finally let a real emotion slip from him.. a tear. A single, horrible, beautiful tear.
And it had felt better than what he had done earlier.
The tear, falling from his cheek, landed amongst his blood, disappearing into the nothingness.
Good God..what had he done?
Releasing a sob that emitted strait from his endless heartache, John dug his fingernails against the wall, letting his hands and body trail down the stain he had left, and into the sticky puddle upon the ground.
Maria…. Oh, Maria..
John wandered through the back halls, his shirt covering up his bandaged wounds - something he played off as a injury he received while working with the gym equipment. The blood he had left behind? Some of it he had cleaned up, the rest wouldn't be found for a while yet. By then, he'd be long gone to another part of the country.
The show was over. The fans had already left, as did most of the wrestlers. But he decided to stay behind. He wanted to leave in silence, so as no one could see him.
Maria's whereabouts were unknown to him. Ever since she had left him behind, he hadn't seen her. He wasn't sure what she'd been doing.. He wasn't sure where she'd been.
But that's probably what she wanted. And if Maria wanted it, then so be it.
John winced, shifting his bag higher upon his sore shoulder. The lights had been shutting off spasmodically around the arena, and the last thing he wanted was to be lost in the darkness.
He entered the parking lot, the crisp hair making a heavy impact as it came in contact with his skin. It had been cold out lately. He absolutely hated it.
Upon hearing the rustling of small voices, and a pair of clicking heels, John looked up, his eyes flying to the direction of the noise.
His heart stopped.
There Trish Stratus ran, her problem solver known as Tyson by her side, hiding something within his heavy sweatshirt.
Something wasn't right here. No, something was wrong. Very, very, wrong.
A mere second passed before he dropped his luggage, bounding off towards her. When she finally noticed him, the small smirk that she wore quickly disappeared, her eyes replaced by an intense and worrisome shock.
"What in the fuck are you doing, Trish?" He demanded, taking a fistful of her long, blonde hair. "What problem are you trying to solve now?"
Sending a hard fist into his stomach, John doubled over in pain, releasing Trish from his grasp.
"The 'problem' is your little girlfriend," She spat, coming eye level with him. Grabbing the back of his head, she brought his defenseless form towards to her own, laying a hard and lustful kiss upon his lips. "..if you can't love me, then you won't love her either,"
Dropping him to the ground, Trish stood, turning back to Tyson as he took her by the arm, leading her across the slick and wet parking lot.
His mind fogged back up again, his eyes glazing over. John looked down at his stomach, the blood had seeped through his bandages.
But, Maria.. Where was she? ..he needed to find her.
Using the car next to him for support, John brought himself to his feet, taking only seconds to gather himself before breaking out into the fastest run he could manage, dodging between the cars.
She always parked in the corner of the lot, on the upper level. Always..
Reaching close to the area where she should've been, John spotted Trish and Tyson in the corner of his eye. Trish had noticed him, and was barking orders at her slave. She wouldn't shoot him.. She longed for him far too much.
Doing the best that he could, John turned his attention back towards the rental car he and Maria had gotten earlier.. It was still there.
She was only a few yards away from it, digging through her bag as she searched for her keys, obviously unaware of what had been unfolding around her.
John turned to Tyson… a gun. He had pulled out a gun.
"Maria!" He yelled, his voice hoarse and not as loud as he needed it to be. "Maria! Maria, watch out!"
The little brunette looked up, startled by the voice, then turned to Trish and Tyson. Her pretty eyes became wide with fear as she realized what Tyson held in his hands.
But she didn't move. Not even the slightest bit.
Dodging out from the parking lot, John threw himself into the little frame of Maria's, causing her to stumble back and fall into the side of the car.
John felt the hot metal rip into the flesh of his stomach, his body falling to the ground in a lifeless manor. But soon, he felt that familiar, lovely feeling of Maria's arms cradling him, her hand covering his wound.
"John.." She sobbed, brushing the sweat from his face. "John, wake up, baby… John, please.."
His eyes fluttered open and closed, the image of her the only thing he could barley even see. Her voice, her beautiful, melodic voice, he could hear perfectly.
"Maria.." John tried reaching for her, but his arm laid still, movement nothing he could handle.
"Baby.. I'm right here." Bringing his cheek to her own, Maria held onto his limp and battered body as best she could, "Don't leave me, John.. You can't.."
"I'd never leave you, Maria.." It hurt to speak.. it hurt to breathe. But it seemed almost nothing. "I love you,"
"I love you.." The woman choked, "God, I love you so much…" Her tears, falling from her cheeks, landed amongst his chest, slipping into his wounds. "Promise me you'll never leave me, John… promise."
John opened his mouth to speak, but at first, he could do nothing. His throat began to fill with blood, but be managed to keep it back long enough to whisper a word so quiet, it was barley existent. "I promise.."
His mind black, his eyes filled with one last glimpse of the beautiful soul he had cared for so much…the one he'd wanted more than anything…the one he'd do anything for.
Her name slipped from his lips one last time, his voice so quiet it was almost nonexistent, his breathing shallow as his body slowed to a silent and faintly form.
And a moment later.. he was gone.
Finally, freed from his pain.