::This is all fiction, I don't own anyone in this story. The wrestlers own themselves.::
*~Afraid to Breathe~*
*~Part One~*
"No!"
"Get your ass back here now, you little bitch!"
Still screaming, the redheaded woman continued to run, afraid to stop, in fear that he might catch her. If he caught her, that was it, he would kill her.
"Amy! Amy Christine Dumas, get your fat ass back here!"
Picking a spot in the corner of the closet to hide, Amy sat down, letting the tears wrack her body. This wasn't the first time. She'd cried herself to sleep in the closet many times before. If she didn't, it was usually because she never made it to closet, he'd have caught her before then. If he did, she was screwed. He'd punch her, slap her, yell at her, anything he could do to degrade her and make her feel like nothing.
"Amy, don't even bother trying to hide, I *will* find you and the longer you draw this out, the worse it'll be."
"No." Amy whispered, frozen in fear. She couldn't go another night in the closet, she couldn't deal with another beating, it had to stop. But how?
"AMY!" He screamed, making her wince at the noise. She wanted to stand up to him, to tell him it was over, but she couldn't. He was too big, too strong, too powerful. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that he had her heart.
As much as she hated to admit it, part of her still loved him, part of her always loved him. When he wasn't like this, when he wasn't drunk and angry, he was just about the sweetest man ever. She loved him with every part of her, she was willing to die for him, and she knew he felt the same, when he wasn't drunk.
"Goddamnit Amy! Get your ass out here!"
Why does he have to be like this? Didn't I do enough for him, didn't I make him happy?
Amy sat, asking herself the same questions she'd been asking since this started. Two years ago. She hated to admit that aloud, but she'd dealt with the abuse for two whole years. How she did it, she didn't know. It must've been her unrelenting love that kept her going, that kept her thinking that every time was the last, that someday he really *would* stop, like he'd been saying for over a year.Every time he'd hit her, he'd apologize, saying he didn't mean it, or it was her that had provoked him. She didn't know what she'd done, but it must've been something. He wouldn't just hit her out of nowhere, right?
"Amy, get your fucking ass out here, I'm tired of dealing with your shit! Stop fucking ignoring me! You mother fucking bitch!"
Gasping, Amy winced at the words. As many times as she'd heard them out of his mouth, they still cut through her like a knife. Every degrading word he used on her, they'd hurt just as much as the punches and kicks, if that was possible.
How did she stay with him? She'd asked herself that plenty of times, what was it about him that she loved so much. Sure, when they'd first gotten together, he was as sweet as could be. He would open doors for her, he would hold her hand, he would help her with her wrestling. She didn't think it was possible for a man to be that sweet. All she kept thinking was that it was too good to be true, and she was right.
A few months after they started dating, he started drinking, first just a glass or two of wine, then some beers. Soon, he was drinking five or six beers a night, then nearly ten a night, every night. No one seemed to notice, he kept his body in good shape, he wouldn't drink at work, or around anyone else, only her.
There had only been incident where anyone had seen him get even a little out of control. They had been at a club, dancing and having fun, but he'd had too much to drink. He'd started yelling and throwing glasses, but he hadn't touched her. She had been thankful that they weren't at home. If they had been, it wouldn't have been glasses he was throwing, it would've been her. That was one thing about him, no matter how drunk he was, he always knew what he was doing. Even though he apologized and told her he didn't mean to hit her, she knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that if he had touched her at that club, he would've had about five huge wrestlers on his ass in a second.
Amy smiled at that, knowing that it was true. She had plenty of friends in the WWE, they all cared about her, and she knew they would help her with her problem. If only they knew. Sure, she could tell them, but what could they do? They were friends with him too, and he could deny the whole thing, saying that it was the opposite and she was the one who got drunk every night. Or, he could say she was lying.
Would they believe her? As much as she wanted to say they would, she wasn't sure. Yeah they were her friends, yeah they cared about her, but they didn't know her. Not the real her anyways. They knew Lita, the fiery redhead who wasn't afraid to kick any man's ass if they messed with her. They didn't know Amy Dumas, the small, fragile girl who was afraid to stand up to her abusive boyfriend, and afraid to tell anyone, not sure they would believe her.
"Amy fucking Dumas! If you don't get your fat ass out her right now, I'm going to end up doing something I'm going to regret!"
Taking deep breaths, Amy tried to stop her tears, if he saw her crying that would just make it worse. If she cried, he'd beat her for that. She tried not to do anything when he beat her. Any sudden movement could set him off more.
As she heard footsteps approaching, Amy braced herself for the worst. She heard him enter the bedroom and start looking around. When the footsteps stopped, she tried to convince herself that he had left the room, but then she saw his shadow.
Pulling the closet door open, he nearly ripped it off its hinges. Grinning maniacally, he reached down and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up to a standing position.
"You little bitch, you've been hiding in there all along!"
Feeling tears stinging at her eyes, Amy tried to blink them back, not wanting him to see her crying.
"Aw… you crying? Too damn bad, you deserve this bitch!" Laughing at himself, he violently shoved her into the wall, making her head snap back.
As she fell to the floor, Amy suddenly got lightheaded.
That didn't stop him though. As soon as he saw her fall to the floor, he started kicking away at her, not caring what he did. He kicked her in the face, the stomach and every other available area.
Unable to contain her crying, Amy just let her tears flow. She felt stinging as the tears mixed with the blood coming from her mouth. She was sure he'd busted her lip open. How was she going to hide this tomorrow? Closing her eyes, Amy figured if she couldn't see what he was doing, it would go away.
Smelling alcohol, she opened her eyes and came face to face with him. "How do you like it, bitch? A slut like you deserves this. You had it coming. Consider this your punishment."
Sobbing on the floor, Amy covered her face, not wanting to look at him.
Not satisfied, he pulled her arms away from her face, looking her in the eyes. Amy shivered, seeing the cold, hard, unfeeling look in his eyes. He looked inhuman. "Don't look away from me! I'm trying to teach you a lesson here! Now, did you learn your lesson?"
Amy started to nod, only to stop when she felt a shooting pain in the back of her head. "Yes." She said in a whisper, not able to speak any louder.
"Good." He said, finally satisfied with his work. "Love you Ames." Grinning, he stood up, looking down at her, waiting.
Still sobbing, Amy knew what he was waiting for. "Love you Chris."
A/N: This is another new story, a spur of the moment thing. Read and review and let me know if I should keep going! :)Nicole***
