Notes: Hey guys! I've decided that I'm probably gonna try to update at least once a week. That's subject to change of course, if I get a spark of creativity ;) Again, I own nothing except Bailey. The rest belong to Vince McMahon.

I was sitting in the living room waiting for Randy to come home from his first meeting. I gnawed at my fingernails as my stomach did flips. I jumped as our front door slammed violently, and then I froze. I could feel the color drain out of my body, leaving me pale and lifeless. Randy's footsteps got closer and closer, and my fear grew larger and larger. He appeared in the doorway absolutely livid.

"H-hey babe," I managed to choke out. "How was your meeting?"
"Shut up and get me a drink."
I gulped, "I don't t-think that would be a good idea."
"Excuse me?"

"I just—it's worse when you're drunk, Randy."

He was in my face at once, "What's worse, Bailey? Huh? This?" He struck me across the face. "I said get me a damn drink. Do it now!"

I did as I was told reluctantly. Again and again, I refilled his glass. Tears streamed down my face as Randy entered his drunken state.

"Stop crying. What's your fucking problem?" I shook my head, wiped my eyes and he scoffed, "I know what will make you feel better."

He slowly walked towards me with a devilish smirk. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into him. I cringed when his mouth connected with my neck. His tongue lapped over my skin, and the liquor on his breath made me ill. His hands made their way to my jeans, but I pushed him away with a loud cry.

"Get off of me." I said sternly.

Anger flashed in his eyes brightly. He flared his nostrils before swinging his fist at my jaw. I hit the wood with a loud thud. Several kicks to my stomach, and then he straddled me; blows came from every direction. I shut my eyes and took it. It was pointless to fight back, and in the end, it would only make things worse. He picked me up off the ground just to slam me against the wall. I was experiencing so much pain, it was becoming hard for me to breathe. Cries escaped my mouth as Randy hissed in my ear.

"Randy Orton does not take rejection lightly, Bailey."

Another slap to my face, and I was shoved back on the floor. He ran his hands over his face crazily before storming off to the study. Lying in the floor, I shook with sobs. I needed to get out. I had to get out before this escalated any further. I picked myself up to the best of my ability and limped to the bedroom. I didn't look at myself in the mirror, I didn't look down to see the damage that was done. I simply packed a duffel bag full of clothes and left. I needed to go to the one person who knew Randy the most, and that's exactly where I was headed.

Driving was almost unbearable as the pain increased every second. The weeping returned when I pulled in his driveway. I was bent over, clutching my stomach as I walked to the door. Knocking rapidly, I stood and continued to cry. After a few moments the door was opened.

"Bailey? Oh my God, Bailey..." I looked up at him pleadingly. "What happened?"

I swallowed hard, "John.. Randy happened. You have to help me."

John carefully guided me into his living room. I finally caught my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. I was disgusted. I didn't even look like myself. Bruises, scratches, blood, and swelling; it was everywhere. I sat down on the leather couch while John took my stuff to the guest bedroom. He returned with some Tylenol and a heating pad. He helped me adjust myself on the couch, and he sat across from me in the recliner.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked.

I shrugged, "Couple of months."

"Is it always this bad?"

"Only when he's drunk," I said. "He just added onto the beating I got yesterday... just added onto the beatings I always get."

I told John everything. From when it first started up until today. It seems like for the first time in forever that someone was actually concerned for me. I broke down before I even started, and John came over and just sat with me, hugging me. All of a sudden, John's phone began to ring and I stopped breathing for a moment. We both knew who it was.

He looked at his phone before asking, "Does he know you're here?"

I shook my head.

"Hello?" John answered. "Randy, get a hold of yourself. Yes, she's here. Stop, you're drunk. I swear to God dude, if you come over here to get her, I will call the fucking cops on you. Go to sleep for Christ's sake so you can think normally tomorrow." He hung up and sighed.

I stood up before saying, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have intruded. This isn't your place to help me. I just thought since you and Randy are such good friends—"

"Bailey, you're like my little sister. I'm not gonna let him hurt you anymore. I insist you stay here until he gets some help, which will be soon. He loves you, he really does. He's gonna work all this stuff out. You just have to give him time."

I smiled and he nodded in acceptance. Time; that's what Randy needed, and that's what I have. I just hope John's right.

Another short chapter, I know. D: I'm trying to get the hang of this. Things are going to pick up from here, trust me! I just needed to get all of this out in the open. Hope you enjoyed. :)