There was the kid again. John Morrison, the real one that no one seemed to know. But he was being tailed as usual by his tag partner Miz.
Mark looked away from the two tag champs and focused once again on changing into his street clothes. He couldn't get the image of what those two did to Shawn out of his head. And he was damned if he didn't make them pay for hurting his friend. His gazed often strayed beyond his notice, back to the young man he had always thought was so much like a young Shawn, but the truth was, Morrison could never be like Shawn because Shawn would never have attacked some one for no reason and not even apologise later.
John and Mike were chatting quietly in the corner of the changing room, well to any other looking on that's what it looked like, but Mark was not just any looker on, and something in him stirred at the look on John's face as he sat slumped on the bench with his head down and slightly shaky while Mike whispered harshly above him. The look on Mike's face told another story. His face told anyone that he loved the man before him, but his eyes betrayed the evil intent and story behind the relationship between them. Mike changed and left. Mark noticed as soon as he was out the door, John took in a deep breath that seemed to have escaped him. He started shaking slightly harder now, forcing him self not to let the tears free.
John looked round the locker room nervously. He took comfort in the fact that there were only Edges little cronies Hawkins and Ryder left in the room, no threat to anyone. His gaze wandered further round the room till his eyes locked with Mark's. The shaking of his body went from unnoticeable to unmissable in record time. The kid started to shrink in on himself sensing that he was trapped as the only exit would require going past Mark, and if John wasn't changed and back at the hotel room before Mike got back from the club, John was in serious trouble, and he was petrified. The two blonde New Yorkers left, leaving John and Mark alone in the room together. Mark followed them quickly and locked the door. John heared the lock click and his head snapped up at the ever nearer deadman, his body shaking violently from the knowledge of what was coming.
"P...please" He stuttered his eyes flashing with pain and fear, "I d...don't want..." Mark grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet slamming him against the stone wall. John let out a yelp, quickly biting his lower lip to stop any other sound. 'Don't make a noise. Not allowed to make a noise.' The words repeated over and over in his head, making him unable to stop the tears from streaming down his face. Mark chuckled amused, thinking the tears were from the force of impact, that the shaking was because he was afraid of the deadman like everyone else, and his tightly closed eyes was him waiting for the impact of Marks fist on his face. Until he noticed. Being this close, closer then anyone usually got to John Morrison, Mark could see them. The small scars across his busted lip, the fading bruises under his eye and on his cheek. The obvious sign of chafing metal around his neck. Morrison wasn't bothering to struggle out of his grasp; any normal person should be shouldn't they? They would be trying their hardest to get away. However John was doing the complete opposite. He was closing in on him self, even though his feet were dangling above the floor he wasn't moving, his body stiff and shaking. The tears were silently falling from his closed eyes, and he was biting his bottom lip again. In fear? Or was it something else?
Mark didn't know what to do. He had never seen someone act like this around him before. Usually they would beg his forgiveness, scream, yell and kick. At least make some attempt to make Mark loosen his grip, but not John. He was completely still, sensing the danger and trying to hide from it inside his own body.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Mark asked his voice deadly and menacing. He shook John, slamming him a little more against the wall. He hit a little too hard and John's head snapped back and hit the wall, not enough to knock him out but enough to hurt and bring more tears to his eyes. "Open your eyes kid. LOOK AT ME."
John flinched, quickly doing as he was told and opening his eyes. The pain, fear and lost look in them was not normal under any circumstances. Even being held up against a wall by your t-shirt by the scariest man in the WWE didn't make that look in anyone's eyes unless it had already been there before. Mark was confused, looking into John's frightened face with his own stony, angry one. John whimpered slightly, and hearing the noise coming from him self, he panicked. His eyes went a little winder and he looked at Mark with pleading, crying eyes, silently begging his forgiveness for having made a noise. Mark couldn't believe what he was seeing and confused, dropped the young man to the floor, watching as he completely fell off his feet and curled into a tight ball on the floor, wrapping his arms protectively round his head. 'This isn't right' Mark thought, watching the obnoxious superstar acting like an animal who had been kicked. 'John should be dong this, it isn't normal.' Mark dropped down to sit on the bench, reaching out to the young man and resting his hand on his shoulder. "Kid?" Morrison flinched and went deathly still. The shaking to hard to stop. Mark looked him over; noticing the back of his light blue shirt had small red specs on it. 'Shit. Is that blood?' John cried, curling tighter. 'Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me.' His mind repeated. But his mind didn't like him either. He knew no matter how many times he begged or pleaded, no matter how many times he told himself they wouldn't do it. They did. They always did, and he knew what was coming next.
"Morrison. Look at me." John did. He knew there was always two ways to do this. The hard way was stop moving and let the leader, in this case it would be Mark, take control and do as he wished. Then the rather easy way which Mike had introduced, where if John did exactly as he was supposed to, without noise or trying to get away, then Mike would go a little easier on him when the time came.
Morrison decided the easy way would be best with the deadman, who knows what a guy as scary as him might do. So he got up to his knees and reached for the deadmans belt with shaking hands. Mark pushed him away, hard enough so he flew back wards and hit the wall again. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" John was beyond scared now. He knew he had to be punished for doing something bad, but he didn't understand why him doing what he was told, would make Mark angry. John crawled into the corner of the room, not knowing what else to do and pulled his knees to his chest, tightly curling in on himself again. Mark watched with stunned fascination and John cried and looked completely confused. But something in him felt sorry for the kid, and it stirred him to follow up what was going on here, even if it took all night.
"John? Why did you do that?" Morrison looked up at him. He didn't know what the question meant. Did he mean what had just happened? Or had he done something else wrong? 'Oh God' John thought trying his hardest to think back to what he may have done 'I don't know.' "I don't know" the last one had come out as a whisper but Mark's good hearing managed to catch it. "What do you mean you don't know?" Mark walked closer and got down in front of Morrison, making the small man push himself further against the wall, the look on his face showed Mark this obviously caused him pain. "I...I don't kn...know what I...I did wr...wrong." John whispered, not knowing why he was able to talk and why he couldn't stop himself. "I don't understand." Mark sighed."Well why you were attacking Shawn for a start. Then just now." John looked up at him confused. Shawn? What had he done to Shawn? "W...what did I d...do to S...Shawn?" he whispered. Mark looked furious; John sensed it and tried to hide inside the wall. 'Please don't hurt me.' "What did you do? You attacked him when his back was turned." John was getting more confused now. Hadn't Mike told him to do that? He didn't understand why that made Mark mad at him. "I d...did as I was t...told." John gasped; Mark's fist hit the wall. He was fuming now. John whimpered and shook madly. He was more afraid of Mark now then he'd ever been of anyone before. He always knew why Mike and Joey and any of the others treated him like crap and like he was nothing but a toy. Because he deserved it and wasn't worth anything to anyone so he didn't matter. But Mark was mad because he had done what he was told, and now he was going to hurt him too.
Mark, behind his anger, was still trying to figure this kid out. He looked at Mark scared. His eyes looked as if he was scared to even beg his forgiveness. Like he was afraid to even move without permission. Then, as if a light had been turned on, it clicked. Mark kicked himself for not noticing straight away. The way he didn't fight back, the way he constantly closed in on himself, tried to hide, the stutter, why he said he was doing as he was told, why he didn't understand Mark's sudden rage, why he looked so scared he could die of fright at any moment and why he had reached for Mark's belt when Mark first yelled. The kid was being abused. He was being raped. All of the anger inside Mark washed away, and he had the strange feeling of wanting to cry for the broken kid. Acting on those feelings, he moved the hair out of Morrison's face and gently stroked his cheek, rubbing away the tears carefully. John shook badly, looking at him scared and confused. Mark understood, John thought it was a mind game. "It's ok." He said softly. "I understand now." Mark didn't know where this soft, almost loving voice had come from. John was still shaking. He didn't believe him. Mark wasn't surprised; he would probably never believe or trust anyone again. But Mark had to know, "Who hurt you John?"
John looked shocked that Mark had used his first name. Shocked and scared because the only people who had ever used his first name where Mike, Joey and his father. And all of them had only ever used it as a way to lull him into a false sense of security, before they beat and raped him. "P...please..." John whispered "D...don't like...hurts." Mark nodded, again surprising both of them by pulling John into his arms and holding his shaking, weakened body close to his chest. Now Mark could see the physical extent of the damage. His was skinny, most likely from starvation and sickness, his skin was paler and cold. He could feel the numerous welts and marks through his thin shirt, and from where the shirt lifted up slightly at the side Mark could make out bruises and marks going down beyond his belt line. John shook madly. 'What's he doing?' he tried again to take the easy way out of the beating, and reached for Mark's belt. This time, instead of yelling and throwing him across the room, Mark held onto his hands and shook his head. "It's ok. Don't be scared." Mark cooed softly. John was more confused. "You don't have to do that ever again. I promise." He pulled the smaller man into a carefully tighter hug, kissing John's forehead softly when the young man rested his head on Mark's chest and cried. 'Even if this is a trick.' John thought 'Please just cuddle me a little longer.'