WWE
Disc: None of the characters you recognize belong to me.
Rating: PG, slight language
Notes: Short standalone piece set back when Austin and Triple H attacked Lita. Wrote it a while back, but couldn't think of a title.
Summary: Somebody's thoughts on a brutal attack.
Part 1/1
Six times. Six, bloody fucking times. Actually, it was probably more than that, but my head kinda went numb after the sixth time that chair connected with her back.
She looked so small and helpless lying there…so innocent. I never thought that I'd think that about her – I mean, hell, the woman called herself the fucking 'Queen of Extreme'. Doesn't exactly bring the image of a small and defenceless woman to mind.
But that's what she was. Defenceless. She couldn't do anything but shield her body as best as she could while that chair connected with her skin, her body.
That chair. I should have gotten rid of that fucking chair the minute that bell rung. Guess hindsight's 20-20 and all that…or, some stupid saying to that effect anyway.
Back to the point, I still can't believe how small she'd looked…and how we'd so casually went after her. Granted, I hadn't had the chair in my hands, but I stood there and watched as Austin repeatedly struck her. Hell, I even laughed, a great big fucking smile on my face.
I've seen the replay's, though I don't need to see them. The images are burned into my mind, a never ending loop. The show's been over for a couple of hours now…and I'm still sitting in the rings, watching faceless people dismantle the ring.
The very same ring where, less than 4 hours ago, I stood back and watched a woman get destroyed.
God, when did things get so fucking complicated? When in the hell did I start caring about others? It used to be so simple…the only person I trusted, the only person I cared about was myself.
Okay, that's pretty much the same right now I suppose…except that now, Stephanie and Austin are always around. Still, it was simple…everyone was just a means to an end. I never cared if they got hurt, if they were upset, hell I barely listened when they were talking. Actually, I still don't. Steph's a whiny slut at the best of times, and Austin, well, he'd do anything for a beer. That pretty much sums it up I think.
So, what I want to know is, when the fuck did I begin to care? What was so different about tonight, that I've found myself wondering if she'll be all right? I mean, hell, she's never been more than a blip on my fucking radar, and tonight, she's the only thing I've thought about.
Geezus, this is annoying. I've never been one to doubt my actions, to agonize over them, and yet, here I am, shrouded in darkness, a million and one emotions running through my head.
You know, I had no intention of staying here at the arena so long… I had in fact been about to leave. And then I'd caught sight of her.
Or, more accurately, them. The two Hardy brothers, Jericho…and Lita. I admit, Jericho's appearance threw me a bit…I never figured he was that close to them. Or, judging by the way Lita had clung to the blonde Canadian, he was closer to one of them than he was to the rest.
I think my feet froze. I mean, literally froze. I couldn't move. I'd watched them from the shadows, and then I'd made some half-assed excuse to Stephanie and I came back here. That was 2 hours ago.
Since then, the rings been dismantled, and the arena lights are so low, I can barely see 5 feet in front of me. Maybe I should attempt to head back to the hotel now. I reach the spacious area where the ring used to stand, and freeze.
Ah hell. What the fuck is this doing here? Shit, do they think I want to keep it as a bloody memento or something? Yeah, that'll be something to show my grandkids all right.
'See, if you look at this steel chair, you can see the dents from where Stone Cold Steve Austin hit Lita…I was there you know…Still laugh about it sometimes…'
I blame the chair. If the fucking chair hadn't been in the ring, Austin wouldn't have attacked her. Shit, who am I kidding? He'd still have attacked her, but damn, at least it would have been without the chair.
Have I mentioned how fucked up this is? I don't care about anything, give a damn about anyone…and I sure as hell don't regret what happens in the ring.
Yet tonight, I do. For some unknown reason, I actually give a damn about someone other than myself. For the first time since I stepped into a wrestling ring, I'm regretting not helping someone out. I've never felt guilty about anything…so why in the hell does it seem like I'm practically choking with it?
I think I liked it before, before tonight, before I stared this whole fucked up Power Trip thing…God, I wish I could go back…back to when things were simple…back to when it was just me against the world.
Back to when I never knew guilt.
End 1/1