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Wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies, that you’ve been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand, I would understand“

"And that’s the truth!” Ron Killings yelled into the mic before throwing it down onto the laid out John Cena. He walked off victorious as Raw went off air. As he did, the crowd cheered for him, though he was a heel. John saw as the production crew all stood up and stretched as yet another show went off successful. Cena slumped foreword before getting up and starting to walk up ramp. Even as he did, the stadium was emptying; Cena was still booed by some die hard fans.

“Hey, you coming out to celebrate?” Randy asked as they met up in the locker room.

“Nah, I think I’m just gonna go back to the hotel and chill, Ron did a killing on me, maybe tomorrow,” Cena smiled.

Back at the fancy hotel Vince had booked for the superstars; Cena fell back on his bed. Why did everyone boo him? He was the face of the WWE after all. He wasn’t bad looking and he often won matches. He wasn’t a horrible actor and he hadn’t said a crowd sucked in a long while. He was a die-hard American and hardly ever had time off. It just didn’t make sense.

Could he be wrong? Did he suck at everything he thought he was good at? Maybe the head writers were all wrong and Cena was hated by most. Sure, his merchandise sold but then there are those videos of people just burning it. Maybe the Rock’s promo was all right and he only had the kids.

Cena was falling apart. It seemed as his whole life was crashing down on him. He was always hurting, he hadn’t had a night out in a while, and some of the comments online really got to him. This was his thought process as he drank and drank, hoping for his demons to leave him. They refused to and thus he climbed out on the ledge outside his window, beer case in hand.

He chugged a beer bottle as he sat down, looking out at the view of the city. When he was finished, he looked around for a way to dispose of the bottle. Finally, he saw a trash can down on the street.

“He shoots...” John cheered as he threw the bottle towards it. He hardly made out the bottle falling incredibly short and shattering on the ground.

A passerby looked up to see where the bottle had come from. “Hey,” the man shouted, pointing up for others to see. Soon a huge crowd had formed barricaded back by police.

Suddenly, banging could be heard at his door, which was bolt locked and chained shut.

“Sir, please get off the ledge,” an officer yelled from the street.

“What do you care,” John yelled back angrily.

“Come on, John,” Randy could be heard coming from the door. “Bro, you’re drunk and very unstable, get off the ledge.”

“I can’t take it Randy,” John sobbed. “My whole life’s a lie, I’m always in, pain, I have no time for a girl, its not worth it”

“We knew what we were getting into,” Randy yelled back.

“No, we knew how we’d be treated as a face and how we’d be treated as a heel, I’m booed as either!” John yelled back, chugging yet another beer.

“John?”a woman’s voice could now be heard from the street. “This is Trish, Trish Stratus, you see I was in the neighborhood.”

John chuckled at that. “And what?”

“Please, come down,” Trish yelled now into a megaphone.

“Why? No one cares!” John was saying in between sobs.

“I know how you feel, how it is to be booed when you don’t even know what you did to deserve it, but John you’re not hated, I love you, I know neither of us have much time for a relationship but that’s just something we have in common. You remember that fling we had Dr. of Thuganmics? I do. I never wanted it to end John!”

“Really?” John asked confused.

“Nah, I’m just confessing my love on 1…2...3…8 News shows for the heck of it!” Trish said sarcastically.

John could hear her smile; her sarcasm was a big thing he liked about her. “I don’t know if I can hear you, I’m coming up!” Trish yelled, handing the megaphone to a head officer before running into the building.

His door crashed in. John looked into his room from an awkward angle. Standing there were four firemen, a cop, Vince McMahon, Randy Orton, and the beloved Trish Stratus.

“Hey guys, welcome to my humble abode,” John said goofly.

“Sir, stay there, do not move,” the cop said.

“Yeah, John, stay,” Trish smiled.

The four firemen ran over and grabbed John’s arms. They pulled him in hard and sat him on the mattress.

“We’ll watch him for now,” Vince said, thanking them all, and slipping a few bucks in each of their hands. Right behind was a hotel worker, he undid the door's hinges, took the broken door, and reinstalled another all within 20 minutes.

“You guys expect me to do this?” John asked, slightly sobered up from the rush of being pulled in and the time passing.

“Nah, but this is your one mess up Cena, next time you’re feeling suicidal, rent some porn or something, and I’d like to see you tomorrow morning, bright and early,” Vince smiled, being nice for now, before leaving.

“So you wouldn’t come in for me but a girl shows up and you’re all honky dorie?” Randy pouted.

“Hey, you know chicks have power,” Cena mumbled tiredly as Trish hugged his arm.

“Yeah, whatever, you okay now? You really scared me,” Randy asked seriously.

“Yeah, sorry for all the commotion,” John apologized, getting up to hug his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, next time I’m pulled out of a party because you’re doing something crazy,” Randy warned. “I’ll kill you.” He smiled, half-waved to Trish, and left.

“Now, Cena, you want a gift for coming down?” Trish smiled, turning to John. “Hey!” she yelled.

John was sprawled in the middle of the bed, snoring his head off. “Fine, tomorrow,” she smiled and snuggled up next to him.