PART 6
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT- ABOUT 2 WEEKS LATER
Ring: Ring! Adam turned over in his sleep, grumbling as he heard the shrill ring of his cell phone. Getting up and out of bed, he cursed as he tripped over his piled up clothes on the way to the table. Mumbling to himself as he picked the phone up, he answered.
"Hello?" he called, making sure his enthusiasm toward receiving this call showed in his tone. 'This better be good,' he thought of the person who dared to disturb his sleep. When he heard who was on the other end, however, his eyes popped wide open.
"Adam? Are you there?" a tiny whisper asked.
"Brit? Is that you? What's wrong?" he asked, not sure if he should be happy she called, or worried for WHY.
"Yeah," she said, voice still in a quiet whisper. "I know it's late, but do you think I could take you up on that offer Trish told me about? I need to talk to you."
"Of course! I'll come get you…"
"NO!" her harsh whisper called. "I'll come to your room, Brock's almost asleep."
"Okay," he said, sighing as he hung up. Now she had to SNEAK her way out? This was so not fair for her.
He walked over to the bed and waited, sitting up against the headboard. 15 minutes passed. Then 30. He turned the TV on for a while. Almost 45 minutes later, Britney STILL hadn't shown. Deciding to investigate, Adam got up, threw his jeans on over his boxers, and headed out the door. Making his way back around through the dim-lit halls he finally found her, walking in front of him in the direction of his door. Walking up behind her, Adam grabbed Britney, causing her to shriek. Realizing that something bad must have caused her to be so long, he put his hand over her mouth as he scooped her up and carried her to his room. He expected her to fight him, but the second he touched her, she froze, seemingly in terror. Closing his hotel room door, he placed her down on her feet. She turned, looking straight ahead at his chest.
"You scared… the living hell… out of me," she whispered, gasping for air, since the whole way to the room she spent holding her breath. He noticed that she had been avoiding looking at him the entire time, her facing either straight-ahead or looking down. Bringing his hand up, he gently pressed under her chin, trying to make her look him in the eyes. He wanted her to see that he was there to help her, not hurt her. When he touched her, however, she stiffened, refusing to budge.
"Britney," he pleaded quietly, pushing her chin slightly one more time. Once again, she remained stiff, not allowing her gaze to move from the floor. Letting go of her face, he grabbed both of her hands. Marveling at how tiny they felt in his, he watched a teardrop land on his hand. Though he was sent into panic by the tiny drop of moisture, he remained outwardly calm. Still holding her hands, he asked again even more softly.
"Brit, please look at me." Reluctantly, she slowly raised her head, and Adam couldn't control the gasp that escaped his mouth. On her left cheek was a small, but noticeable scratch, and a fresh bruise forming on her right.
"Oh my god," he said in shock, watching the tears spill down her cheeks as she clutched her ribs. They stood there for a moment, in silence, until Adam couldn't take it anymore.
"Come here," he requested, holding his arms out to her. Suddenly, she flung herself at him, sobbing loudly as he wrapped her up in his arms. Escorting her to a couch, he sat down with her, not letting go for a second. He waited until her sobs quieted down to hushed whimpers, stroking her hair gently. Very cautiously, being careful not to scare her, he slowly pushed her off of his lap. Looking up at him, she couldn't make out his expression, or if he even had one.
"Tell me what happened," he told her, expression not changing one iota. Not speaking a word, she tried to pull him to her. When he didn't move, her eyes refilled with tears. Adam hoped she didn't notice him wince, he needed to stay strong for her sake. He wanted her to say everything on her own, and get it all out before he could hold her again. "Brit, please," he said, allowing a little more demand in his voice to show.
"I can't Adam," she said, starting to shrink away again, which he would not let happen.
"Yes you can. You know you can trust me, just TALK to me, please!" he cried. Britney swallowed hard and took a minute to gather composure before speaking.
"I… well, earlier tonight I was about ready to leave to come see you, when I heard Brock moving around in the bedroom. I knew he was waking up, so I just threw a blanket over my jeans and shoes so they wouldn't show…" she trailed off. Leaning back a little, Adam eyed her while she looked down, fumbling with her fingers.
"And?" he asked, pressing for her to continue. After a few deep breaths, Britney recollected the story and told him everything from where she left off.
Just as Britney was heading for the exit, she heard a stirring coming from the bedroom. Shit, she thought frantically. He's awake! Thinking fast, she dove on the nearby couch, spreading a blanket over her jean-clad legs and switched the TV on. As the bedroom door opened, Britney saw her *boyfriend* emerge, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Sending her a sleepy smile, he spoke to her.
"Hey, what are you doing up? And out here?" he asked, lifting her up and onto his lap as Britney secretly, but frantically, fought to keep the blanket over her legs.
"I-I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you, so I just came out here," she said.
"Oh, okay," he said, settling back with her, noticing her wince when his muscular arm brushed over her ribs, which were still sore.
"Oh, I'm sorry babe. Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. Nodding, Britney rested against him. Sometimes, Brock could be a great boyfriend. As long as she didn't piss him off, that is. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something odd about her feet. Underneath the blanket, they appeared to be too big. Like there was something else on them… like she was wearing shoes.
"Brit," Brock started. "Were you planning on going out sometime soon?" Britney's stomach dropped at his words.
Nervously, she answered, "N-no."
"Well than, would you care to explain why you changed OUT of your pajamas and into THIS?" he asked, yanking the blanket off, exposing her jeans and sneakers. Jumping up, she instinctively backed away, eyes never losing sight of him.
"I… I can explain," she pleaded.
"Shut up! Where the fuck did you think you were going?" he yelled furiously.
"I…I," she sputtered out, before he cut her off.
"You're going to see Adam, aren't you? I knew that Stratus bitch was up to something when she…"
"Don't call her a bitch!" Britney yelled, and then gasped at her actions. Brock was caught a little off guard by her little outburst, by the distraction only lasted for a minute.
"You're right, Trish's not a bitch. SHE isn't sneaking out to guys' rooms left and right is she?"
"But I don't…"
"Shut the hell up! You're fucking him too, aren't you? Oh my god, you are turning into such a slut!" he said furiously, causing her to inch away again.
"I'm not fucking him, or anyone else! I'm NOT a slut," she said, but only half-heartedly.
"YES, you are. You are nothing more than a worthless piece of ass to all of them, even your precious Adam Copeland," Brock told her.
"Brock, I… I'm sorry," she said warmly, hoping to soften him up a little.
"Bullshit," he retorted.
"I don't know what the fuck you want from me! You are acting like such a dick right now!" she yelled, eyes instantly widening. She knew she was in trouble now. As she went to turn away, Brock grabbed her arm, spinning her around and pinning her to the couch.
"Take it back, you little bitch," he snarled, squeezing her wrists tightly as he pressed them up against the couch.
"No," she said defiantly, kicking him in the shin. I REALLY need to learn how to keep my mouth shut, she thought.
Seeing the animalistic look on his face, she knew she was going to get hurt. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she bit her lip, preventing her from crying out when the man's fist connected with her face. She felt the tears stinging in her closed eyes. She knew she needed to keep still, to keep perfectly quiet if she wanted him to back off. He didn't sympathize over people too well. She froze, silently praying that her mouth wouldn't get her in any more trouble. As she slowly opened one eye, she saw Brock take a step back. Good, she thought to herself, he's backing off. Boy, was she wrong. She saw Brock lift his leg, and she clamped her eyelids shut again. Before she could react, not that she would have anyway, his foot kicked at her, right in her ribs. This time she could not control the scream of pain that escaped from her lips. Tears, which she had been fighting the entire time, sprang to her eyes as she bent over. Falling off of the couch, she hit her non-bruised cheek against the corner of the coffee table, scraping it. She brushed most of the tears out of her eyes, looking up at Brock. This was when her boyfriend would get sympathetic, apologize profusely, and carry her to the bed, planting little kisses on her injuries. But this time when their eyes met, Brock's glare still possessed that rage it had minutes earlier. Never breaking eye contact with her, he walked to the door, gripping the handle.
"Get out," he said, pointing to the closed door. Looking at him incredulously, she didn't move a muscle. "You heard me. Get the fuck out," he said once more, anger even more present in his tone. Britney realized that he was dead serious.
"W-why?" she asked quietly.
"Cause I've had enough of you for tonight. I'm doing you a favor, really. Get out now before I get REALLY pissed," he warned. Slowly rising, wincing in pain, she walked over to him as he opened the door. As she stepped out of the room, she turned to face him.
"Where am I supposed to go?" she asked, almost sadly.
Shaking his head as he closed the door on her, Brock answered, "I really don't give a damn."
"And that's when you found me roaming the halls," Britney finished, tears still falling.
"I, uh… wow," was all Adam could say.
He knew that entire story had been really hard for her to tell, and he couldn't blame her. Who would want to tell the story of how they were beaten by their boyfriend? As he went to run his fingers through his hair, he noticed that somewhere during her story, his fingers had entwined with hers. Britney sighed softly as she sat back on her knees a little on the couch. Adam sighed as well. He wanted to know everything that had happened since they had gotten back together, but he wanted her to tell him on her own, without his coercing. Much to his surprise, she spoke again, quietly.
"I really screwed up," she told him, watching him rub his thumb up and down her hand. He hated the way she was looking at herself, like SHE was some kind of failure, or loser.
"No you didn't. Honey, I don't know what Brock tells you, but you don't deserve to be treated the way you are," he defended.
"He doesn't treat me bad all the time though. Just when I… mess up," she said, almost inaudibly. Adam couldn't understand why she defended Brock, and he doubted that she did either.
"God, Brit, what is he feeding you? NO woman, especially not one as wonderful as you, deserves to get hit," he said softly, realizing that her mental condition was worse than he thought.
"I-I'm not that wonderful Adam," she said, head dropping between her shoulders.
"YES, you are," he said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I think you are the most wonderful woman in the world," he said seriously. Glancing at the clock, not really knowing how to respond to Adam's compliment, she sighed.
"I should let you get some sleep," she said, gingerly standing up. Moving to grip her wrists, Adam looked up at her, "Where are you going?"
She looked away from him, "I-I'm going to go now. I think Brock might let me back in now."
Adam shook his head, "Like hell you are. You're staying with me."
Looking back at him, she questioned, "Are you sure?"
The Canadian smiled, "Yes, I'm sure. Come on." He took her hands and led her to the bedroom, which she noticed had only one bed. Walking to the bed, he noticed she was still wearing jeans. There was no way he was going to let her go back to her room for clothes, so he reached into his bag and dug out a long t-shirt for her to wear. By the time he was out of his jeans and situated with the TV playing in the background, Britney still hadn't emerged from the bathroom. Getting up, he walked to the bathroom. After gently knocking, he slowly pushed the door open. He found Britney, clad in his shirt, sitting on a closed toilet seat lid.
"Brit, what are you doing?" he asked softly. Playing around with her baby tee in her hands, she kept her gaze locked on the wall.
"Nothing," she quickly answered.
"Why don't you come to bed then?" he asked, wincing as she dropped her shirt upon his saying the word "bed." Panic filled his expression as a million thoughts of what could possibly make a girl afraid of the word "bed" flew through his mind. He knew he was going to have to move very slowly with her. Very cautiously, he kneeled in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.
"Honey, it's okay. I know you're scared, but I won't hurt you. I promise," he offered, not really knowing what else to say. When she didn't answer, he figured it would be best to leave her alone for now, let her COME to him instead of him BRINGING her to him. Slowly standing and turning away, he stopped when he felt her tug at his hand.
New tears in her eyes, she timidly said, "You're not lying." Adam wasn't sure if her statement was a sentence or a question. Sighing softly, he pulled her up.
"Yes, I mean that. I could never hurt you sweetheart." This time, she let him lead her to the bed. Laying her down, he carefully pulled the covers up to her neck, kissing her forehead gently before walking to the other side of the bed. Climbing in next to her, he protectively slid his arm around her waist. When she turned and faced him, he pulled her closer, kissing the top of her forehead once more.
"He called me a slut," she said, and Adam wondered if the tiny gasp she let out after it meant she had only meant to THINK that statement.
"Well, he was wrong," Adam told her reassuringly. Pulling away a bit, she looked at Adam for a moment. He gazed up at her as well, in awe of how beautiful she was, even when she was bruised up.
As Adam closed his eyes, Britney continued, "He said I was nothing more than a worthless piece of ass to all the guys, even you." Adam's eyes shot open in the dark, and for her sake he hoped she didn't notice. Looking up into her eyes as she looked away, he heart sunk at the sight. She looked so lost and helpless, like she didn't think there was anything anyone could do to help her. She actually BELIEVED everything that lunatic boyfriend told her.
Reaching out to brush some of the moisture off of her cheek, Adam replied, "And you believed him? Brit, you know that's not true!" Britney just shrugged her shoulders, not really having an answer for him. Seeing her response, or lack thereof, he continued, "Brit, you are too good for him. You need to leave him, or he's just going to…"
"Where am I supposed to go?! Not that this is any of your business, but Brock does love me! I know it doesn't seem like it, but he does!" she cried, sitting up in the bed.
Oh my god, Adam thought, he's got her brainwashed! "Britney, he hits you. And Lord only knows what else he's done to you that I don't know about! You… you can't honestly believe that he loves you," he said, sitting up next to her.
"As long as I don't screw up, he says he…"
"HE shouldn't be the judge of what screwing up is! He's CONTROLLING you, and…"
Britney cut him off, "SHUT UP! Just… please… shut up. I-I know he doesn't… love me. But, I just… I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I just really HATE myself when I'm with him… but for some reason, I can't leave. It's like, as much as I hate him, I feel like I need him that much more. But I need to leave him, Adam, I really do. But… I don't know where to go." Leaning back against the headboard, Britney turned away from him, looking out the large window into the night sky.
Eyeing her intensely, Adam watched closely as the moonlight illuminated the single teardrop that was falling down her cheek. God, he wished he could tell her that HE did love her, that he would take care of her, take care of the whole mess for her. He would do anything to do it, too, because he couldn't stand seeing her this way. When they first started hanging out, it was her strong-willed, independent spirit that drew him to her in the first place. Now, she had been reduced back to square one: alone, frightened, and downright terrified. Adam watched her in complete silence, not moving a muscle. Gazing at the starry moonlit sky seemed to have a calming effect on her, which in turn had a calming effect on him. After nearly ten minutes of staring in complete silence, Britney laid down once more, turning to face Adam again. Looking up into his eyes, she tugged at his hand again, and he laid down next to her. Much to his surprise, she inched forward until she was right up against him, snuggling in tightly. Adam didn't know whether he could consider that improvement, because it seemed that she trusted him, or if he should be worried, because she was so afraid of going back to Brock that she hid under a man she didn't trust. Either way he felt better, because when she was with him he knew he could keep her safe, whether or not she realized it. Adam almost smiled as she clung to him, until he felt the unmistakable moisture of tears on his collarbone, where Britney's head was rested. When he put his arm around her and felt her shaking slightly, he knew she was crying again. He didn't know how much longer it would take for his heart to sink completely out of his body, but he had a feeling it would be soon if he couldn't make her feel better. Pushing away slightly, but making sure his arm was still around her waist, she looked at him.
"Why doesn't he love me?" she asked tearily. Her crestfallen expression caused a jab of pain to attack his heart. She really cared about Brock, and that man had done nothing but hurt her. It hurt even worse to know that because not only did Adam love her, but she was so caught up in the thoughts of Brock Lesnar that he didn't think she would ever know. Still, he was more concerned for his friend at the moment. Tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, he replied,
"I don't know baby. I don't see how anyone could not fall in love with you the minute they meet you. I just don't know."
As she opened her mouth to speak again, he placed a finger to her lips, hushing her. He pulled her in close, wrapping her securely in his arms, feeling her sigh tiredly against his chest. After a few short moments, Britney dozed and fell into a deep sleep. Shortly thereafter, Adam followed suit.
THE NEXT MORNINGAdam's eyes fluttered open as the sunlight poured in through the curtains. Turning on his side groggily, he glanced at the clock on the desk next to the bed, which read 10:48 A.M. He was extremely tired, but couldn't exactly remember why. Oh, yeah, it hit him suddenly. When he reached his arm across the bed, the tiny blonde that had slept next to him wasn't there. Thinking about her condition, both physical and mental, when she reached him last night sent him into panic over where she could be now. His eyes sprang open and darted across the room, searching frantically for any sign as to where Britney was. The bathroom door was still ajar, as they'd left it last night, so she wasn't in there. God damn it, where the hell could she be? Jumping up in frenzy, he nearly fell over his clothes again, sending himself a mental note that in emergencies it would pay to be a little neater with his things. He was about to turn back to the bed, throw his clothes on, and start searching around for her, until he saw a folded piece of paper on the table in the other room. Heaving a loud sigh, he picked the note up off the table. Before he opened it, another wave of worry washed over him. What if the note says she's going back to Brock? She could be off God knows where with that… loser. Shaking his head, he quickly unfolded the note, satisfied with what he read.
Adam,
Don't worry… I'll be right back. I'm just going to run downstairs to the hotel
cafeteria to get something to eat, cause I'm starving. Stay there, okay?! I'll
be back soon.
--Brit
MEANWHILE
Britney had woken up before Adam, so she decided to go downstairs and get both of them breakfast. She figured after he spent a night like the previous one with her, the least she could do was feed him. When she got into the cafeteria/restaurant, she noticed that there were a handful of Superstars in there as well. Pretending that there was something in her eye, she kept her hand over her cheek as she waved to Stacy, Drew, Torrie, and Billy Kidman. It honestly never occurred to her that there would be other wrestlers down there, and she didn't exactly want to show off the bruise that Brock gave her. Thinking of the bruise made her realize that Brock himself could also come down at any time, so she hurried along, hoping to just get the food and get back upstairs. Everything went smoothly, until Mark spotted her from the corner of the room and called her over.
"BRITNEY! Get your ass over here!" he yelled.
Mark, who was with his wife Sara, Kurt Angle, and Rob, had been like a surrogate father for Britney since she had arrived, so she knew if she ignored him he'd simply come to her. On top of that, she was close with Rob, and considered Sara and Kurt to be good friends, so she simply couldn't ignore them. Slowly making her way to the table, hand still covering her cheek, she sat down in the chair Rob pulled out for her, in between him and Kurt.
"Hey," they all said, as she quickly rested her elbow on the table so her hand was covering her face.
"You got something in your eye?" Mark asked as she rubbed the area under her eye for seemingly forever.
"Kinda… I think it's cause I-I… just woke up," she made up quickly. In reality, she had been up for a good hour, laying around in the comfort of Adam's arms. Mark shot her an I-know-better-than-to-believe-you look, but said nothing about it.
"So what's up?" Rob asked, loosely putting his arm around her shoulder. Mark was the only one to notice her tiny flinch as Rob did so, and it made him concerned as to what was wrong with her. As Sara, Kurt, and Rob engaged in a new conversation, Mark sent Britney a questioning eye.
"You okay?" he mouthed from across the table.
She nodded and smiled, until Sara accidentally kicked Rob in the shin, causing him to jump. He bumped into Britney, knocking her arm off the table. She quickly scrambled and put both her arms back into position within a matter of seconds, resting her face in her hands. Kurt, although no one else seemed to noticed, could have sworn he saw a mark on the blonde's face when her arm and slipped.
"Hey Brit? Move your hand for a second," he requested. Panicking, she moved the hand covering her un-bruised cheek, "No, the other one. Move the other one," the Olympian insisted.
"W-why?" she questioned nervously.
Kurt didn't need an opportunity to answer, as Mark slid his arm across the table. The Phenom carefully pushed her arm out of the way, revealing a small but obvious bruise.
"What the hell happened?!" he asked, as Kurt looked in awe. Mark's comment drew attention from Rob and Sara, both of whom gasped at the sight.
"Well, I…" Britney started.
"Brock did this, didn't he?" Mark asked angrily, even though he already knew the answer. Rob shook his head in a rare moment of seriousness and Sara and Kurt's eyes widened. Kurt had heard that Brock was a little overbearing on the young McMahon, but only through stories from Adam. The Olympic gold medallist honestly never expected THIS, he's always assumed his friend blew things out of proportion because he was like desperately in love with her. Before anyone else said anything, Britney stood, "I… I have to go."
"Sit," Mark ordered, and the young blonde obeyed. Casting her eyes downward, her hands restlessly played with the hem of her t-shirt. Mark took the blank look on her face as a "yes" to his question of whether or not Brock gave her the bruise on her cheek.
"I'll kill him," Mark said through gritted teeth.
"No, Mark. Just don't worry about it, it's nothing," Britney pleaded.
"Like hell it's nothing! When I get my hands on that damn punk, I'm gonna…"
"Shut up Mark!" Sara interrupted, smacking her husband on the arm.
"No! He's got no right to be doin this shit! I'll be damned if I…" Mark continued until he was cut off again, this time by Britney.
"Why don't you stay the fuck out of it?! Damn it Mark, just stay away from Brock, PLEASE." The Dead Man's eyes widened at Britney's exclamation.
"I-I… I'm sorry. I just can't help but get mad," he insisted quietly, head dropping. He had never meant to upset her by his comments, it was just his natural reaction upon seeing what that scum had done to her. Not responding, Britney stood abruptly, stepping back and pushing in her chair. Fighting the tears that were threatening to escape, she turned away. Rob grabbed her hand in an attempt to make her stay, but she yanked her arm out of his grip, storming away. The four of them watched in silence as Britney made her way to the counters, bought a tray full of food and made her way back up to her floor. After she disappeared into the elevator, Mark turned and faced the others.
Looking at Kurt, he said, "I think it's time we pay Lesnar a little visit."
Shaking his head, Kurt responded, "Don't think so buddy. That will only make matters worse. We should go to Adam first, he knows more about this than any of us do."
Sighing as he glanced at the three people he was seated with, he nodded, "Alright, fine. We'll talk to the kid today."
