A/N - No I'm not dead :) I've been really busy lately and I'm writing the next chapter for Strong Enough, but to pass some time here's a new story. It was a very annoying plot bunny. It wouldn't leave me alone and it begged me to write this. So here ya' go. :)
What would you think, if I said, I hear voices? You'd think, I'm crazy, right? Though, they're not coming from inside my head, they're coming from inside John Cena's locker room.
One, who sounds oddly familiar, is hissing very darkly. "You lying, filthy, piece of shit! How dare you sleep behind my back!"
A gasp was heard and a reply as well. "No Hunter, it's not like that."
"Then how is it? Huh! How the fuck is it, you damn slut!" I heard quick movement beyond the door and John cried out, "I didn't want to, Hunter, he made me do it! He made me!"
My cheekbone was smashed against the cold door and my eye's widened, as the scene played before my ears. I was glued to the stop, even if I wanted to, I couldn't allow myself to walk in. The pressure would be to much.
"Oh, do you have the nerve! Dave wouldn't hurt a fly. You tell me you liked it. Tell me, or so help me God!"
"I can't." Was the soft reply.
"You can't or you won't?" Hunter demanded.
There was silence.
"Answer me!" Hunter growled, and I knew that he had hit John. It was only flesh against flesh and bone against bone.
"Y-Your hurting me!" John cried.
I had heard enough, and the time has come. I have to suck it up and go right on in. It was possibly between, life or death. I shakily opened the door and their heads snapped towards my form.
Hunter had shoved John against the desk and he had his fist raised in mid-air, where John, who slouched and shielded his face.
"What are you doing here?" Hunter growled, moving away and letting John fall on the floor, in a heap of groans and moans.
"I could ask you the same thing, but from what I see, I already know." I replied, slowly and steadily, shifting towards John.
"Take one more step and your dead meat." Hunter warned.
I froze and narrowed my eyes. "Is that a threat?"
"Either that or a fucking promise." Hunter said, closing the gap between us.
I stood tall and whispered, "Fuck you." Then a smirk grew upon my lips and I watched his face slowly sink.
"You're going to pay for that!" He bellowed, and I ducked as his arm swung forward aiming for my features. I drew my knee up and it collided with his crotch. He doubled over and that gave me enough time, to help John stand, and make my way out the doorway.
We rushed to the parking lot, and without thinking, I forwarded him inside my rental car. We huffed in rhythm and John clutched his bloody noise.
I took that moment to look him over. He looked nothing like what he did, during show time. He usually looked casual and confident. Now he only looked like a 5 year old boy without his teddy bear.
Since I had no explanation or no question, I just stared, as John began to break down, piece by piece. What the hell have I got myself into?
"John, would you like me to take you somewhere?" I asked, putting the gear into reverse, and backing out the driveway.
"No . . let's just . . drive." He said.
I couldn't really form my thoughts. Every time I opened my mouth to ask him something, I shut it, thinking it wouldn't sound so good. How was I suppose to sound sincere, when I understood nothing. Nothing but how scared John actually was.
"I'm not going to pretend like I understand what you're going through; because I don't. I don't know what's happened to you and I'm probably not the best person to fix it, but if you give me the time, I can probably help you."
"I don't need your fuckin' help!" He snapped. "I need someone to tell me they actually care . ."
Even though he murmured the last part, I heard alright, I heard him loud and clear. Though that's the thing, I don't need to hear him. I need to understand him.
"John, would you mind telling me, what the hell is going on here?"