IMPORTANT AUTHOR NOTE: I received a very valid review from 'Melissa' who
made the point that the whole situation I am writing about is very recent,
a real life issue in Steve and Debra's private lives and also a very touchy
one - domestic violence and so maybe I shouldn't write about it because of
the above reasons. A day or so after Steve walked from the WWE, I read at
least 3 fanfiction stories about this event, all from Steve's point of
view, about why he left, how he felt about what happened and his co-
workers, one even mentioned his abuse of Debra. I feel that since those
authors did not get comments about the personal issues they explored and
expressed: his anger, doubts and feelings and the immediacy of their
posting of the stories, I don't need to stop either. I have also read
stories about abuse in the WWE, I remember one about Triple H abusing
Stephanie so badly when she was pregnant that she had a miscarriage, this I
feel is an even more touchy subject than the one I chose to write about and
beautifully written too. I would like to continue to explore Debra's
perspective through my eyes and knowledge of her, if I get lots of comments
about it being inappropriate then I will not write anymore. I believe I
should continue, do u?
Beauty pageant awards. They lined the small cabinet space in her wardrobe where she kept her memories off the past. They didn't go with the décor of the house anyway, it was all earthy and Texas hunting, it was all Steve. She liked it too, she wouldn't have let him decorate the house by himself, after all she had to live in it too. She smiled, remembering the day they'd bought the interiors, they'd gone out to all the stores, just buying the things they both liked and ordering them to be delivered. They'd even painted some of the rooms themselves, the others didn't need painting and moved the furniture around until they'd both liked it. To celebrate, Steve had broke open a six pack of beer and they'd sat outside, watching the sun go down over their land. It was theirs, they'd bought it themselves and renovated, hunted, fished on it, they owned it, not Steve, both of them. It was joint ownership. A shadow passed over mind as she remembered what he'd thrown at her last night
"This is my damn house, I bought it, it's mine!"
He'd yelled right in her face, his breath stank of beer. It reminded her that it wasn't him talking, it was the drink. At least, she thought it was. The drink heightened his emotions, making them spill out and hit the person who was closest to him and cared the most about him, Debra. She knew how twisted up he was inside. How unhappy he was with his character direction, how he felt he had milked everything he could out of his character, how he wanted to break out and actually show his skills in the ring, not just on the mic. He wanted some control back in his life, his ownership of things seemed his way of reassuring himself. He couldn't hit Vince without receiving a lawsuit so he hit her instead.
"That doesn't make it right, that makes it even worse, there's no reason, he's just using you for a frustration punch bag" the voice in her head wouldn't go away without a fight.
She shook her head, gasping from the pain. Hurriedly, she pulled a bottle of pills from her bedside cupboard and swallowed a couple with a gulp of water. There, that should relieve her pain. The shower had made her feel better, eased the stiffness in he back, loosened her up, not the same way the beer did; that had such severe consequences, this was practical, not desperate. She pulled all her memories of the past out of the cabinet and carried them through into the family room.
It was large, airy and spacious, dark brown leather couches, matching wood and a large screen TV dominated it. She flopped down on one of the couches, careful about her back. The beauty pageant memories came first; crowns, tiaras, photos, sashes. She smiled at the most decorative tiaras, she received them for becoming Mrs Illinois America and Mrs Texas, it had been such a big deal. She'd done the pageants to feed her competitive nature, she'd enjoyed them, the fun she'd had backstage with the girls made the brittle competition easier, in fact it was a little like the camaraderie she shared with the divas in the WWE locker room. Used to share, she reminded herself, used to share. She looked at the photos, God what was she wearing? Did she think back then it was sexy and would get her votes? Yuk! It wasn't all that long ago, before the WWE, before the WWF, it had been fun but it wasn't enough, she had wanted to act, to be a star. "Got what I wanted" she said ruefully, putting the beauty pageant memorabilia to one side on the couch.
She didn't display them in the house because it was part of her past, not her present or future. In this era, it wasn't all that impressive, but it mattered to her, she had achieved something, she'd become a winner and proved she could be the best in a field even if it was beauty pageants. She'd told Steve this, he understood. The desire to be the best, to keep pushing yourself until you're at the top. He hadn't laughed and said it wasn't much of an achievement, he'd been proud of her, he still was. She knew he was. After all, he hadn't destroyed any of her things that mattered to her deeply; he hadn't touched her cabinet of memories even though he knew exactly where it was and what it contained. Somehow even when completely drunk, he didn't destroy what she had achieved, because he knew how much it would hurt if someone did that to him.
Beauty pageant awards. They lined the small cabinet space in her wardrobe where she kept her memories off the past. They didn't go with the décor of the house anyway, it was all earthy and Texas hunting, it was all Steve. She liked it too, she wouldn't have let him decorate the house by himself, after all she had to live in it too. She smiled, remembering the day they'd bought the interiors, they'd gone out to all the stores, just buying the things they both liked and ordering them to be delivered. They'd even painted some of the rooms themselves, the others didn't need painting and moved the furniture around until they'd both liked it. To celebrate, Steve had broke open a six pack of beer and they'd sat outside, watching the sun go down over their land. It was theirs, they'd bought it themselves and renovated, hunted, fished on it, they owned it, not Steve, both of them. It was joint ownership. A shadow passed over mind as she remembered what he'd thrown at her last night
"This is my damn house, I bought it, it's mine!"
He'd yelled right in her face, his breath stank of beer. It reminded her that it wasn't him talking, it was the drink. At least, she thought it was. The drink heightened his emotions, making them spill out and hit the person who was closest to him and cared the most about him, Debra. She knew how twisted up he was inside. How unhappy he was with his character direction, how he felt he had milked everything he could out of his character, how he wanted to break out and actually show his skills in the ring, not just on the mic. He wanted some control back in his life, his ownership of things seemed his way of reassuring himself. He couldn't hit Vince without receiving a lawsuit so he hit her instead.
"That doesn't make it right, that makes it even worse, there's no reason, he's just using you for a frustration punch bag" the voice in her head wouldn't go away without a fight.
She shook her head, gasping from the pain. Hurriedly, she pulled a bottle of pills from her bedside cupboard and swallowed a couple with a gulp of water. There, that should relieve her pain. The shower had made her feel better, eased the stiffness in he back, loosened her up, not the same way the beer did; that had such severe consequences, this was practical, not desperate. She pulled all her memories of the past out of the cabinet and carried them through into the family room.
It was large, airy and spacious, dark brown leather couches, matching wood and a large screen TV dominated it. She flopped down on one of the couches, careful about her back. The beauty pageant memories came first; crowns, tiaras, photos, sashes. She smiled at the most decorative tiaras, she received them for becoming Mrs Illinois America and Mrs Texas, it had been such a big deal. She'd done the pageants to feed her competitive nature, she'd enjoyed them, the fun she'd had backstage with the girls made the brittle competition easier, in fact it was a little like the camaraderie she shared with the divas in the WWE locker room. Used to share, she reminded herself, used to share. She looked at the photos, God what was she wearing? Did she think back then it was sexy and would get her votes? Yuk! It wasn't all that long ago, before the WWE, before the WWF, it had been fun but it wasn't enough, she had wanted to act, to be a star. "Got what I wanted" she said ruefully, putting the beauty pageant memorabilia to one side on the couch.
She didn't display them in the house because it was part of her past, not her present or future. In this era, it wasn't all that impressive, but it mattered to her, she had achieved something, she'd become a winner and proved she could be the best in a field even if it was beauty pageants. She'd told Steve this, he understood. The desire to be the best, to keep pushing yourself until you're at the top. He hadn't laughed and said it wasn't much of an achievement, he'd been proud of her, he still was. She knew he was. After all, he hadn't destroyed any of her things that mattered to her deeply; he hadn't touched her cabinet of memories even though he knew exactly where it was and what it contained. Somehow even when completely drunk, he didn't destroy what she had achieved, because he knew how much it would hurt if someone did that to him.