Turn Buckles & Falling Tears - By HanFauxLo

My dear sweet boyfriend decided to write a fan fiction. I think he's doing a fantastic job so far and I decided to post the first chapter here since he has a waiting period for Fan Fiction.net. So here's "Turn Buckles and Falling Tears: The Story of Emmett “The Blade” Cullen"

Turn Buckles and Falling Tears:
The Story of Emmett “The Blade” Cullen
By: HanFauxLo
Emmett, Bella & Rosalie
A/N: This is my very first story that I’ve had a lot of experience with first hand. It’s taken me a long time to write a story like this but I’ve had a lot of inspiration. I want to thank my girlfriend, ThatPanicGirlE, for giving me such inspiration to write. This is also dedicated to Pitt, who is also my brother who’s spent seven years wrestling. I hope that you enjoy it, and I’m sure there will be more to come. Comments are like a kick ass clothesline; it’ll hit me in the right spots.
Chapter One: Fading Flashbacks

The long highway seemed to go on forever.

It was a really cold night, and my heater was going in and out. I tried to stay warm, but my jacket had so many holes that it was nearly impossible to keep myself from freezing to death. The billboards that I drove past seemed to repeat themselves. Every billboard that I saw advertised food, and it had been a couple of days since I last ate. I only had three bucks to my name.

What money I had to my name went into the gas tank. I had to make it to the show in Fork, otherwise it would be another three weeks before I would get paid from my shitty ass job as a meat cutter at the local Pink and White. The drive from Seattle to Forks didn’t seem as long of a drive as I remembered, but as the years of wear and tear on my body took its toll; it seemed like time was playing tricks on my mind.

It’s been four years since I last laced up my boots and truth be told, I didn’t really want to climb back in the place where I had once had the match that almost ended my career. But the bills had started to pile up, and people that I walked past on the street to my job asked me if I was ever going to get back in the ring and have the rematch.

I remembered that match like it was yesterday. I was going up against the new guy that they just signed a few months before. We had a hell of a match. We gave those fans the match that they wanted to see. And trust me, the scars and broken bones that I have will tell you that I’ve been to hell and back.

I have flashbacks every now and again. I wake up from my bed in my one bedroom apartment with shakes and cold sweats. The meds the doc gave me help from time to time, but they’re not enough to stop the nightmares anymore. As we’re about to go home, he set me up in his finisher called the Chaos Theory, which is what we call in the business a modified rolling pile driver, a move where he locks me in his arms and flips. I remembered he didn’t lock me into it as well as I thought,and I tried to fight out of it because I knew something bad was about to happen. Just as soon as I thought I was safe, he went through the motions, and I remember my neck snapping like a dry twig and laying there motionless after he hit his move. He figured that I was out for the count and pinned me for the one, two, three. After the match was over, the ref raised his hand and handed him the belt that I had busted my ass for seven years to get.

The ref looked down to where I rested on the mat as I tried to roll over so I could get up on my hands and push myself up to shake his hand and walk out the ring. I tried to roll over, and I couldn’t move. It was like my body was frozen and my brain was out to lunch and forgot to put the will be back in an hour sign up. I looked down, trying to wiggle my toes. I knew something was wrong, but I shook it off and I tried to wiggle them even harder, and then I realized right then and there I was fucked. I knew that I couldn’t move. I tried everything that I could do to move even an inch, and then I knew I was paralyzed.

The ref got down on the mat where I was still laying in the same position after the match, asking me what was wrong and why I couldn’t get up and out of the ring. I stared up at him with this look of fear and said, “Chris, I can’t move my legs.”
He said, “Are you sure?”

“If I were able to grab you by your neck and choke the living shit out of you, I would.”

I looked up at him with tears in my eyes, “Get the trainers and the damage control out here, NOW!”

He waved the trainers and the medics in the ring, and I rolled my eyes over to them as they slid into the ring with the stretcher and a neck brace. They asked me if I could move, and I told them what I told Chris. To be honest, I was scared.
I thought to myself... Is this the end of my career?

Would the wrestler everyone knew as Emmett “The Blade” Cullen be known as the wheel chaired artist formerly known as Emmett “The Blade” Cullen? After seven years of busting my ass to be the heavyweight champ and being the best that the N.W.C.W. has seen in a long time, to be some broke and penniless has-been..?

I don’t think so.

I tried to keep my eyes open as they finished placing the neck brace on me, sliding me gently on the stretcher and out of the ring.

I looked up, watching the bottom ring-rope going past my face and thinking that this was the end of my career. I finally closed my eyes and promised God that if he let me walk again, I wouldn’t lace up and be done with this business once and for all.

As I was being carried out from the ring and up the entrance ramp to the waiting ambulance, the crowd was still in silence. All I could hear while trying not to blackout were the fans praying for me and the ringrats crying for me.

Fucking ringrats were the eighteen and nineteen year old girls who come to all the shows to cheer me on and wished that they could take me home after the matches to have a fuck-fest at the local motels near where I wrestled. They had these grand illusions that I would be with them the next morning, and they could take me home to meet Mommy and Daddy They wanted a relationship out of it and would try to tie me down to settle one day.

Fuck all that shit. I was married once; no way in hell that I would settle down ever again. They’re the ones who caused all the pain and suffering and the reason for what happened to me and my family. When you’re on the road three hundred and fifty-two days out of the year, and you get lonely, they seem to be somewhat of a comfort, and they are your best friend when you need someone to talk to. However, when you’re a has-been like me, they are nothing but a warm heartbeat and a quick fuck.

As they were loading me in to back of the ambulance and locking my stretcher into place, I made a vow that I would walk again against all odds and make amends with someone I hadn’t spoken to in five years.

I wondered what she would say to me after all these years. What would I say?
After all the rehab and the pain meds, I pushed myself to walk within a year and back in shape to work out again. Tonight was the first match that I’d had in over nine and half years.

I kept asking myself, Will I be able to get back what I lost so many years ago? Will I be able to carry myself through the match and shake off all the ring rust that I’ve collected over the years?

As I pulled up to the Forks High School gym and got my gear out of the back of the van, I realized it was now or never. I made my way to the dressing room, sat my gear down, and knew it was time for the Blade to get back to the basics... to bust heads wide open and make money.

A/N: Huge, special thanks to my new beta, Cereuleanblue. She betas my girl’s stories and did outstanding job on this one. Thanks so much to her and to all the ladies of ‘Team Fire and Ice’ for pre-reading this for me.