_________________________________________________________
Chris Jericho stumbled, drunk, into his hotel room hours after RAW.
He stood in his tracks as he examined the interior of the room. Amy was nowhere to be seen - nor were there any traces of her. He wondered where his mouthy bitch of a girlfriend could be.
"Amy! Amy!!!" he shouted, annoyed that the redhead wasn't here and that he couldn't pinpoint her exact location. He thought that, once he found her, he very well might just belt her in the mouth or blacken one of her pretty eyes.
As he sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes, Chris suddenly decided to take a different tack.
"Amy...Baby, where are you?" He made his voice as syrupy as he could, thinking that if he sounded sweet and loving, the woman would come out from her hiding place - if she was indeed hiding somewhere here. The way he figured it, she very well might be... Maybe she was hiding in the bathroom.
"Honey...Come on, I'm not gonna hurt you - I promise..." Chris continued. "I love you, baby...you know I never mean the things I say or do...The last thing I want is to hurt you..."
Jericho rose from the bed in his socks, stumbling over his own feet as he edged toward the bathroom door.
"Amy? Baby, answer me..." He pressed his cheek against the door, his left hand going up as well to caress the door.
"Sweetie...?"
Still, there was no response. All was silent.
"Damn it..." Chris muttered between clenched teeth. He hated it when she got like this, and he didn't have the patience for it. He hated being ignored - he wouldn't be ignored. Well, he'd give her another thirty or so seconds...
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he screamed. He began to pound on the door with both fists, his long blond hair flying as he shook his head wildly to accompany his hand movements.
Once he was composed enough to stop the banging, Chris reached down and tested the knob. It gave way, and he shoved the door open with his shoulder.
"Aha!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the four walls of the small lavatory. His voice died away as he took in the interior of the room, his clear blue eyes blinking rapidly.
She wasn't there...
"Shit!"
And then, in his drunken haze, he suddenly remembered...
She'd had a match earlier that night, teaming up with Adam Copeland. The tall blond man had been tending to Amy in the ring after she'd collapsed. He'd brought her to the back, and then to the hospital.
Damn that man to hell!
Chris' breathing was heavy and ragged as he felt the rage within him boil to the surface. In one swift move, he smashed his right fist into the vanity mirror above the sink, the shards scattering all over.
He didn't even feel the pain - his fury was that great.
As he stared at his reflection in a jagged remnant of the mirror
that was left on the vanity, he vowed revenge - on Amy and
on Copeland...