Coma White
(a WWE 'Fic from the SmackDown side o' the fence) by Indigo X
(Obligatory Notestuffs- Yah. Just drippin' in the angst here... as per my usual. Nothin' sexual or nekkid here (unless you count shirtless naked...), but a good deal of brutality. Buyer beware. This story 100% slash free. Written while playing Marilyn Manson's 'Coma White' on repeat... that's the suggested BGM for this story. Shannon Moore and Matt Hardy aren't my property, although I keep watching eBay in hopes of changing that. Hee. Onward...)
Shannon Moore cried out as the fist smashed into his face. Again. And again, as it had been for the past hour. Unrelenting. Not stopping, no matter how much he screamed and cried, no matter how hard he tried to get away. Fighting back was out of the question- against this opponent, at least. And there was no escape. The beatings were given often and without mercy, at even the slightest hint of failure, and if he tried to hide, they only got worse.
A handful of pale gold hair was siezed and torn from Shannon's head, which was then slammed into the wall. A gash opened and immediately began to stain the boy's fair hair a sickly, slimy crimson. He slid limply to the floor, small shoulders heaving up and down as he wept in pain and fright. But he did not resist. He deserved this. He was nothing but a coward and a failure, a pathetic little nothing that didn't even belong here. He was here only by Matt's good graces, and therefore was expected to follow him as his leader... but he couldn't even do that properly. He was deadweight. And so he was limp like deadweight as his hair was grabbed again, and he was undefensive as the fist went up and smashed him in the stomach.
Another cry, again the boy crumpled to the floor, panting, blood trickling from his mouth, running over cut lips, tears running from black eyes that were nearly swollen shut. He was surprised none of his teeth were knocked out, really. Too bad... he would deserve something like that, as well. Someone as weak and worthless as he deserved whatever he got.
It stopped then... Shannon was wondering if his punisher had decided that he'd had enough for now... but then crystalline, tear-drenched blue eyes widened as much as they were able. A chair. The punisher had a chair. And he barely had time to close his eyes before the chair was whipped back, and then slammed into his face so hard it made the rookie's teeth rattle.
"Shannon? Shannon!"
He could barely hear it, with the blood pounding in his ears... someone calling him? He couldn't tell who. It didn't matter anyway... nothing mattered... nothing was real but the pain... and once more, he was yanked up, and turned toward the mirror.
He barely recognized the boy he saw in the mirror, clad in bloody silver bell-bottom wrestling pants and the tatters of a torn Mattitude shirt. Eyes were all but swollen shut, face was a mask of crimson, the slight but somewhat muscular body covered in cuts, gashes, and bruises of all shapes and sizes and colors. He only saw it for a moment, though... right before he was thrust headfirst into the mirror, shattering the glass and adorning his face, head, neck, and shoulders with even more lacerations, and then dropped hard amongst the silvery, red-stained shards.
"My God... SHANNON!"
Who was that that kept calling out to him? They should go tend to something that was more worthwhile. He was just little Shannon, the MFer who could never do anything right. And once again, though shaking this time, the fist went to strike him as he lay helpless amongst the glass...
...and was caught and held. Shannon looked up wearily at his rescuer, sighed, gave a quick, anguished sob... and passed out, dripping red onto the linoleum...
...leaving Matt Hardy standing there, sickened, holding his now- unconscious friend's limp wrist, gaping at the scene with absolute horror.
Somehow... he knew this was his own fault, but... he'd never meant to do this to Shannon, didn't know... didn't know he was screwing up his friend's mind so badly...
...for him to do it to himself...
"God... Shannon... I'm so sorry..."
The founder of Mattitude ran for the medics. Shannon lay bleeding on the floor, victim of his own self-hatred.
(a WWE 'Fic from the SmackDown side o' the fence) by Indigo X
(Obligatory Notestuffs- Yah. Just drippin' in the angst here... as per my usual. Nothin' sexual or nekkid here (unless you count shirtless naked...), but a good deal of brutality. Buyer beware. This story 100% slash free. Written while playing Marilyn Manson's 'Coma White' on repeat... that's the suggested BGM for this story. Shannon Moore and Matt Hardy aren't my property, although I keep watching eBay in hopes of changing that. Hee. Onward...)
Shannon Moore cried out as the fist smashed into his face. Again. And again, as it had been for the past hour. Unrelenting. Not stopping, no matter how much he screamed and cried, no matter how hard he tried to get away. Fighting back was out of the question- against this opponent, at least. And there was no escape. The beatings were given often and without mercy, at even the slightest hint of failure, and if he tried to hide, they only got worse.
A handful of pale gold hair was siezed and torn from Shannon's head, which was then slammed into the wall. A gash opened and immediately began to stain the boy's fair hair a sickly, slimy crimson. He slid limply to the floor, small shoulders heaving up and down as he wept in pain and fright. But he did not resist. He deserved this. He was nothing but a coward and a failure, a pathetic little nothing that didn't even belong here. He was here only by Matt's good graces, and therefore was expected to follow him as his leader... but he couldn't even do that properly. He was deadweight. And so he was limp like deadweight as his hair was grabbed again, and he was undefensive as the fist went up and smashed him in the stomach.
Another cry, again the boy crumpled to the floor, panting, blood trickling from his mouth, running over cut lips, tears running from black eyes that were nearly swollen shut. He was surprised none of his teeth were knocked out, really. Too bad... he would deserve something like that, as well. Someone as weak and worthless as he deserved whatever he got.
It stopped then... Shannon was wondering if his punisher had decided that he'd had enough for now... but then crystalline, tear-drenched blue eyes widened as much as they were able. A chair. The punisher had a chair. And he barely had time to close his eyes before the chair was whipped back, and then slammed into his face so hard it made the rookie's teeth rattle.
"Shannon? Shannon!"
He could barely hear it, with the blood pounding in his ears... someone calling him? He couldn't tell who. It didn't matter anyway... nothing mattered... nothing was real but the pain... and once more, he was yanked up, and turned toward the mirror.
He barely recognized the boy he saw in the mirror, clad in bloody silver bell-bottom wrestling pants and the tatters of a torn Mattitude shirt. Eyes were all but swollen shut, face was a mask of crimson, the slight but somewhat muscular body covered in cuts, gashes, and bruises of all shapes and sizes and colors. He only saw it for a moment, though... right before he was thrust headfirst into the mirror, shattering the glass and adorning his face, head, neck, and shoulders with even more lacerations, and then dropped hard amongst the silvery, red-stained shards.
"My God... SHANNON!"
Who was that that kept calling out to him? They should go tend to something that was more worthwhile. He was just little Shannon, the MFer who could never do anything right. And once again, though shaking this time, the fist went to strike him as he lay helpless amongst the glass...
...and was caught and held. Shannon looked up wearily at his rescuer, sighed, gave a quick, anguished sob... and passed out, dripping red onto the linoleum...
...leaving Matt Hardy standing there, sickened, holding his now- unconscious friend's limp wrist, gaping at the scene with absolute horror.
Somehow... he knew this was his own fault, but... he'd never meant to do this to Shannon, didn't know... didn't know he was screwing up his friend's mind so badly...
...for him to do it to himself...
"God... Shannon... I'm so sorry..."
The founder of Mattitude ran for the medics. Shannon lay bleeding on the floor, victim of his own self-hatred.