Title: Death Becomes Her
Author: Alicia Ann
Website: Sparkage (check profile for link)
Pairing: Possible relationship in the future.
Rating: R.
Spoilers: Canadian dollar bet.
Summary: It's been two months since the Canadian dollar bet. Lita has moved on but Trish can't... and she takes matters into her own hands.
Disclaimer: Trish Stratus and any other character portrayed in this fic are just that, CHARACTERS. They belong to the McMahon family, Titan Sports, World Wrestling Entertainment and others. Don't sue, I don't have any money anyway. Thanks.
Notes: Deals with attempted suicide. Dedicated to my friend, Alesia. She knows nothing about wrestling but still reads my fics. I love you, kid. I may use real names at times since this will deal with situations away from the WWE at times so if Trish calls Lita, Amy or vice versa, deal, please :)
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She cried as she remembered their laughing. It was so loud in her head and it played on a loop, going over and over again. She scoffed as she thought of the Canadian dollar. I'm only worth a dollar.
She knew everyone felt sorry for her, they dropped by her hotel room in every city or offered her their rental cars. She turned into a fucking pity party. No one wanted to speak about it, they talked about the weather and how the Lakers needed a better player to get through to the playoffs but not one mention of Jericho, no how are you holding up? Or do you want me to kick his ass for you?
And she couldn't take the whispering, oh there were the groups of girls who stopped talking and politely smiled as she walked by. She knew that they were giggling at the stupid girl with a heart of gold, falling for someone like Jericho.
She grabbed the pocket knife and swallowed. The laughing was still there, only it was getting louder, taunting her, telling her she couldn't go through with it. The knife dropped to the floor with a great clatter and she covered her ears.
"Shut up!" She cried but they were still there, urging her on, telling her she wasn't worthy of living.
She picked up the knife again and clutched the handle. It was too much for her to take, she had always been the happy perky girl that everyone loved but she had been turned into a dumb blonde by management when she first started and now she was branded as a dumb little chippie who fell for Jericho's charms.
She screamed in agony as she slashed her wrists, she remembered to do it the right way this time. It wasn't a cry for help or some dramatic scene that she wanted someone to happen upon, she wanted it done. It had been two months since the bet and she knew she didn't want the pity anymore. She just wanted it to be over. She couldn't sleep at night, she wouldn't eat anymore. She had become a shell of what she had once been.
She held her wrists to her chest and took a few deep breaths as the blood poured out and turned her crisp, clean, white top to a soggy, red mess. The pain was going to be gone soon and all she could feel was the sleep that she so wanted. She just wanted to sleep...
As her last thoughts faded from her brain, she finally got her wish. She slumped over to the side and slid down into the darkness.
Trish Stratus died on the cold tile floor of a Holiday Inn.
Author: Alicia Ann
Website: Sparkage (check profile for link)
Pairing: Possible relationship in the future.
Rating: R.
Spoilers: Canadian dollar bet.
Summary: It's been two months since the Canadian dollar bet. Lita has moved on but Trish can't... and she takes matters into her own hands.
Disclaimer: Trish Stratus and any other character portrayed in this fic are just that, CHARACTERS. They belong to the McMahon family, Titan Sports, World Wrestling Entertainment and others. Don't sue, I don't have any money anyway. Thanks.
Notes: Deals with attempted suicide. Dedicated to my friend, Alesia. She knows nothing about wrestling but still reads my fics. I love you, kid. I may use real names at times since this will deal with situations away from the WWE at times so if Trish calls Lita, Amy or vice versa, deal, please :)
+++
She cried as she remembered their laughing. It was so loud in her head and it played on a loop, going over and over again. She scoffed as she thought of the Canadian dollar. I'm only worth a dollar.
She knew everyone felt sorry for her, they dropped by her hotel room in every city or offered her their rental cars. She turned into a fucking pity party. No one wanted to speak about it, they talked about the weather and how the Lakers needed a better player to get through to the playoffs but not one mention of Jericho, no how are you holding up? Or do you want me to kick his ass for you?
And she couldn't take the whispering, oh there were the groups of girls who stopped talking and politely smiled as she walked by. She knew that they were giggling at the stupid girl with a heart of gold, falling for someone like Jericho.
She grabbed the pocket knife and swallowed. The laughing was still there, only it was getting louder, taunting her, telling her she couldn't go through with it. The knife dropped to the floor with a great clatter and she covered her ears.
"Shut up!" She cried but they were still there, urging her on, telling her she wasn't worthy of living.
She picked up the knife again and clutched the handle. It was too much for her to take, she had always been the happy perky girl that everyone loved but she had been turned into a dumb blonde by management when she first started and now she was branded as a dumb little chippie who fell for Jericho's charms.
She screamed in agony as she slashed her wrists, she remembered to do it the right way this time. It wasn't a cry for help or some dramatic scene that she wanted someone to happen upon, she wanted it done. It had been two months since the bet and she knew she didn't want the pity anymore. She just wanted it to be over. She couldn't sleep at night, she wouldn't eat anymore. She had become a shell of what she had once been.
She held her wrists to her chest and took a few deep breaths as the blood poured out and turned her crisp, clean, white top to a soggy, red mess. The pain was going to be gone soon and all she could feel was the sleep that she so wanted. She just wanted to sleep...
As her last thoughts faded from her brain, she finally got her wish. She slumped over to the side and slid down into the darkness.
Trish Stratus died on the cold tile floor of a Holiday Inn.