A/N:  This fic came to me last night while listening to the song, 'I'm Okay' by Christina Aguilera, so credit for the lyrics go to her.  Also, I obviously don't own Stephanie, Linda, or any of the McMahons.  Hope you enjoy!

*I'm Okay*

Stephanie McMahon sat in her office, a deep scowl forming on her otherwise lovely face as she reluctantly pulled on her elbow pad.  She sighed loudly, her bangs fluttering ever so slightly in the air. Just then, an object caught her eye from across the room.  Even though she had stared at the damn thing so many times that every last detail was etched into her memory, Stephanie cocked her head to the side, examining it as though she was discovering it for the first time. Pushing herself up from the metal folding chair she was sitting on, she slowly made her way over the object, picking it up and eyeing it wonderingly. She ran her index finger over the front of it… a photo of her family, taken a few years ago at a Wrestlemania press conference. As her finger glided over each member of her family, a wistful tear filled her eye as she was hit with the harsh realization that moments like the one in that picture were going to come no more. The times where she, Shane, Vince, and Linda all got along were few and far between, but at least were an occurrence.  Not after tonight.  After tonight, the McMahon family would finally be destroyed. The final pieces of what held their poor excuse for a family would come undone, all because of a stupid match.

Stephanie's pale blue eyes locked onto those of her father, the cold gaze enough to scare her even though it was only on paper. It was all because of him. Wherever her father was concerned, there always had to be a scapegoat, a means for him to take out his aggressions on, because the almighty Vincent Kennedy McMahon was *never* wrong.  He had already managed to pick apart her mother to the point where she would never be fully sane again, and tormented her brother to the point where Shane no longer wanted anything to do with the name McMahon.  Stephanie supposed that since there was nothing left of those two, Vince was simply moving on down the line, and she was next. Still, for whatever reason, she wasn't scared… she had seen too much in her life to be afraid. Sure, she had never really taken a beating from her father, but it certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd witnessed it.

[[Once upon a time there was a girl]]

[In her early years she had to learn]]

[[How to grow up, living in a war that she called home]]

[[Never know just where to turn for shelter from the storm]]

The tears – no longer wistful – slid down Stephanie's cheeks as she painfully recalled some of the darker days of her childhood. Her eyes snapped shut as the image, the vision of her father towering over top of her mother with that murderous, animalistic gleam in his eyes – rushing vividly to her.  She placed a hand over her ear, wincing as she could practically hear him screaming, his deep, bellowing voice cutting through her brain as he violently took out each and every one of his frustrations out on her poor, innocent mother. 

[[It hurt me to see the pain across my mother's face]]

[[Every time my father's fist would put her in her place]]

[[Hearing all the yelling, I would cry up in my room]]

[[Hoping it would be over soon]]

Stephanie despised her father. Loathed every fiber of his being. He was her father, but instead of doing the 'normal' dad things, like watching her play sports or chasing off potential boyfriends, he got his kicks beating on her mother. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew she could hear him. She swore that sometimes, Vince would purposely drag Linda into the hall so that Stephanie could see their shadows rumbling around in the tiny crack of light shining under her ever-closed bedroom door. He *wanted* her to hear it. He wanted his daughter – his ten year old daughter – to fell guilty, to once again take the blame off of himself so that when he gave his "I have no control over your worthless kids" speech, he could still fall asleep at night.

"Asshole," she muttered to herself, recalling the one and only time she actually tried to stop it.

Shane, of course, was out for the night – Vince would dare put his hands on Linda with him around – and Stephanie was, as always, securely tucked under her blankets… only this time, her door remained open.  She waited up for it, the inevitable moment when the first blow was struck, springing up from her bed the second she heard the first of her mother's muffled cries. If Shane wasn't around to play savior, she'd just have to do it herself. Her plan to gallantly storm into her parents' room and rescue her mother failed miserably, and the next she knew she was back in her room, screaming for him to stop as he continued the merciless act right in front of her.

[[I often wonder why I've carried all this guilt]] [[When it's you that's helped me put up all these walls I've built]]

[[Shadows stir at night through a crack in the door]]

[[Your goal of a broken child screaming please, no more]]

Her gaze still locked on her father's face, Stephanie wanted to spit on him, to spit in that smug, arrogant face and to let him know that that wouldn't equal a fraction of how degraded he had made her feel.  He had single handedly managed to cause the breakdowns of women he was supposed to love.  Vince was going to fight her, physically challenge his own *daughter* as though she were some out of line employee.  She could hear him again, only this time, he was laughing.  He laughed at them, made a mockery of their helplessness. The pain and emotional anguish they felt because of all this was nothing but a big joke to him.

[[Daddy don't you understand the damage you have done?]]

[[For you it's just a memory, but for me it still lives on…]]

Suddenly a burst of anger coursed through her system and Stephanie hurled the picture across the room, her eyes widening in awe as she watched it smash into the wall. Her eyes rested on it as it landed on the floor, face down. Taking slow, careful steps, she walked over and bent down, resting on her knees in front of the picture. She picked it up, flipping it over and examining it again.  This time, the picture had changed – now, a large crack ran down the center of the frame, shattering the image of a happy McMahon family. Although the picture, the one thing to remind her of happier times, was destroyed, a smile played on Stephanie's lips.  In the weirdest way, the picture looked better. The crack in the glass frame was more accurate, more symbolic of her family. There was no way around – the abuse, the yelling, screaming, and fighting that had become a constant in their home – the McMahon's were a broken family, one filled with painful times and even more painful memories.

[[It's not so easy to forget, all the marks you left along her neck]]

[[When I was thrown against cold stairs]]

[[And everyday afraid to come home in fear of]]

[[What I'd see next]]

Stephanie now found herself on the way to the ring that had over the years become a home to her, her mother by her side as she headed into the match her father was forcing her into, the match that could very well end her career.  In a matter of minutes, she would be out there *fighting* her father.  In a way, she was relieved that the match would take place in front of so many people, because she considered those people, the fans, more of a family than she could *ever* see in her father.  Taking a deep breath, she glanced over at her mother, frowning at the apologetic look on Linda's face.  It was clear that she felt somewhat responsible for all this mess, for her daughter being screwed into putting her life and her career on the line against her husband.  Grabbing onto Linda's hand, Stephanie gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Mom, this isn't your fault," she said knowingly.  "I don't want you to feel guilty about any of this."

Linda sighed, "I know Stephanie, but I…"

"Mom, don't.  This is all his fault.  *He* turned on us, not the other way around.  All we've done is try to live our lives, and he obviously has a problem with that.  We don't need him… we never have."

"But Stephanie," Linda replied in a lost tone.  "What if you lose?"

"Well, I'll do my best not to, but if I do, then that's it.  I've come to the realization that no matter what he tries to do, he can't tear me down.  He can knock me down again and again, and I will *never* stay down.  Regardless of all he's done, of everything he's put us and Shane through, I'm okay."

A small smile played on Linda's lips as she watched her daughter gracefully step in front of her.  It was a blessing to have someone like Stephanie, some *true* family.  She was so relieved that she was stronger than herself, that she wouldn't give into her father without a fight.

"You know what Steph?  We're all okay."

[[Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same]]

[[And I still remember, how you kept me so afraid]]

[[Strength is my mother, for all the love she gave]]

[[Every morning that I wake, I look back at yesterday…]]

[[…and I'm okay]]