An Ambulance match, against Liv Morgan. A fucking Ambulance Match. She’s worried for me, I know, I would be just as worried if it were her that was participating in one of these. I’m strong, she knows I’m strong. But it’s rational to be worried for me, I think. Damion Priest and Alistair Black has an Ambulance Match, and she saw what happened to Black. It’s all staged, but she’s seen what they did to each other, and she knows about my fucked up shoulder and my fucked up nose and all of that.

I held her as much as I could before I went out, trying my best to soothe her. We’re both in our gear, we’re supposed to come out together. I know I’m ment to lose, and even I’m a little worried about the beating I’ll take. But I brush it off. I know the minute I hear my music, I’ll be snapped out of it and everything will be well. The crew makes fun of me for the way I’m holding her. She’s worried like a fan. I know she just doesn’t want me to get hurt, or be off for too long. She gets touchy when she’s nervous, and I’ve had to redo my lipstick three times- not to mention how several layers of black lipstick is smeared across her own mouth.

Liv and I fight, ultimately I lose, as scripted. My body aches, and I lay in the back of the ambulance for a few seconds before the doors swing open. She pushes past producers and people from medical, hands flying to my face. My whole body aches, and my eyes are half-lidded. She presses her lips to mine, and I smile despite myself. I hold the bridge of my broken nose as she helps me sit, then eventually stand. I’m favouring my left leg- must’ve pulled something in my knee. That’s just great. Guess she’ll be walking the dogs for a bit until I’m sound again. We get to medical, and she leaves to take off her costume and makeup while I get treated. She comes back to where I rest, and climbs in the bed with me.