Ok so the muse is strong for thia one ahaha , so ive changed my mind and decieded to make it a short series... like 4-6 partss :) Review pleaseee :)

Randy Orton had effectively put the fear of god in her, but somehow that didn't stop her from visiting him everyday for the rest of the month. He consumed her thoughts, Barbie just felt like she needed to understand him, like it was up to her to piece together the story of this psycho.

His malicious and disturbing thoughts only seemed to intrigue her more, and make her even more determined to figure out how a human being could whined up such a monster. She wanted to dig deep into his psyche and riffle through his shadowed past if it was the last thing she ever did.

"Good afternoon Barbie," The St. Louis native said drying, pursing his lips as he spoke.

She was startled, and her hand instantly clutched at her chest, "How do you know my first name?"

He laughed, "The guards were talking about you're tight little body, and I'm assuming they know you're name from the sign in sheet. Funny, most reporters use aliases."

Taking a seat she tried not to let him get to her, "I do when I write, but when I'm here I want you to feel like I'm just another..."

"Victim?" He asked smiling, cutting her off.

"I was going to say person."

His eye's strayed to the clock behind her, "You're late today."

Following his line of vision she too stared at the ticking hands, "I had things to do."

"Is something more important then our time together?"

She glared at him, trying to strip him of his false sense of power, "Don't flatter yourself Orton, anything is more important than you."

A smirk came across his chiselled face, "Then why do you keep coming back?"

This time she was the one to be blunt, "It's my job."

He leaned foreword, "I think when I propositioned cutting you open it constituted as grounds for terminating your little story, or at least reassigning it to someone else..."

"I'm not a quitter.. nor do I scare easy."

Randy suddenly pounded his fist against the window and the blonde instinctively jumped, he once again smirked at her, "I beg to differ..."

Embarrassed she reached into her bag for her notebook, which by this time was nearly filled with barely readable scribbles from each of her visits, "Lets get to today's questions shall we?"

He rolled his eyes, "If we must, but you know the rules..."

A sigh escaped her lips, "I know I pull up an inch of skirt for every question you answer..."

"Correct."

Licking her thumb she turned to one of the last empty pages, "I want to talk about you're mother... the first time I came to see you you mentioned your absent father, but what about your mother?"

"What about her," He spat, tensing up at the word.

Barbie shrugged, "I don't know, tell me about her general, what she did for a living, things like that.."

He ran a hand back over his head, "She was a whore..." Randy told her calmly, rotating his hand to signal Barbie to hurry up with her end of the deal.

She groaned, lifting up her hemline a little, "That wasn't an inch!" He yelled, his short temper becoming clear to her for the first time.

An almost laugh past through her slightly parted lips, "And that wasn't a very good answer, you're going to have to do better if you want me to keep going."

Licking his lips at the site of her he continued, "That was her job, plain and simple, she was a streetwalker.. fucked John's in our family room while my dad was away."

The blonde smiled at his compliance and rose her skirt higher, "And did you're dad ever find out?"

Nodding Randy continued to ogle her bronzed legs, "Yeah he did, she beat the shit out of me when he left her.."

Her face grew concerned, "Why?"

"My dad was a wrestler, so one day he came home from a tour of the eastern coast and I told him mom had been having her own naked wrestling matches while he was gone. He packed his bags that day and never came back."

"And?"

Randy looked away to the blank grey wall, "She beat me until I passed out, well I assume she stopped hitting me after I blacked out."

Barbie's hand moved to her mouth in shock, "How old were you?"

He shot her a cold, blank stare, "Four."

And in that moment she felt something she never thought she would for Randy Orton...pity. "So what happened to you after that?"

A shrug fell off of his shoulders, "Some nosey teacher called social service a few years later when I kept coming to school with casts and bruises..."

Never breaking eye contact she pulled at her skirt, "Then what?"

"I went to an orphanage in St. Louis, got bounced around from foster home to foster home.. which is basically like a legal form of child enslavement. I worked to the bone for strangers who got paid to keep me, practically starved to death and was beaten more by them then I ever was at home."

Barbie felt the sting of tears in her eyes, "That's so sad."

"That's life." He smiled, "Now can I get an inch for good behaviour?"

The blonde woman sighed deeply, but obliged him, lifting the material up to reveal her thigh. Randy stared intently, waiting with anticipation for her next question, because he knew that there was only one more left until he was getting a clear shot of her underwear. Which he selfishly hoped to be some form of lacy thong, or maybe there was a god and the little tart went commando.

She was about to open her mouth again when a buzzer sounded, signalling that visiting hours were over for the day. Barbie stood up, and flattened out the wrinkles that had form in her outfit from it being continuously bunched up around her, and turned to go. "I guess that's it for the day."

He muttered something she assumed was a curse word under his breath before he said through gritted teeth that he'd see her tomorrow. And he was right about that, because she knew that she would be back with a whole knew slew of questions for him when clock struck two the following day.