Disclaimer: I do not own any of the WWE talent, of their training
facilities, etc, etc... I only own the characters that I have created solely
for the use of this story.
Distribution: Ask first.
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Alyssa closed her eyes shortly, shaking her head slightly. She was so hoping to get away without having to say a word, without having to argue, without having to face the truth. Granted, she had wanted somebody to admit for months that Mark was her father, but she was too tired and too frustrated from all of the fighting to have this discussion. And to have this discussion with Mark's wife—her stepmother.
Adam smiled as he led her inside. He was glad that Sara was there to set Mark straight so that they could try to talk this out. He could tell by the look on Alyssa's face, by little comments she would make, that she was hurting from everything. She was hurting from being denied by her biological father. She was hurt by the fact that he had introduced her to the family, as he would any other outsider. She was quite plainly hurt.
"I really don't think there's much for us to talk about." Alyssa sighed quietly as she ran a hand through her hair. She looked between Mark and Sara, standing uncomfortably in the entrance room with Adam.
Mark glanced at Sara, who gave him a stern look. He let out a slow breath before speaking slowly. "Apparently, we do have something to talk about, Alyssa." Running a hand through his short locks.
"Honestly? Yeah, we do have... things to talk about. But I'm not up for it right now. I have other things to do, I—" Alyssa turned for the door, closing her eyes shortly when Adam held her hand firmly, not allowing her to walk away.
"Lyssa."
"Adam, please let's just go, okay?" Alyssa once again made an attempt to leave.
"Alyssa, look at me." Adam spoke firmly, watching her as she turned to face him and reluctantly looked up at him.
"What, Adam?" She pursed her lips together as she looked up at him. Why couldn't he just allow her to leave, and to deal with this when she felt like it? After all, Mark had delayed things, and done things when he wanted to... maybe the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
"You've been waiting for this for months. For him to admit that he might be your father. For him, and for you to talk this out. To figure out what was going to happen. And now, when it's finally happening, when you're both being forced to look at the truth, to look each other in the eye and work this out... you're running scared." Adam's eyes never moved from hers as he spoke firmly, raising his eyebrows as though he was challenging her.
"I am not running scared."
"Then you tell me... what would you call it?"
"I—I just don't want to talk right now is all. I'm tired." Alyssa pulled her hand roughly from his and crossed her arms over her chest before looking down with a creased forehead.
"Bullshit. You wanna know what I think?" Adam inquired, studying the younger girl.
"No, no actually I don't want to know what you think, if that's alright." Alyssa's forehead creased as she started for the door, not daring to look at the couple that sat on the couch together, waiting to see what was going to happen with Adam and Alyssa.
"No, actually it's not alright. You're going to hear what I think anyways. The first time I heard about you wasn't when I walked in to Trax, and you had walked out. It wasn't when I found out you had been trying to quit Tough Enough, and thankfully stayed. I heard about you when you first joined Tough Enough, from Al. He was impressed with you from the start, Alyssa." She simply shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"Look, I really don't think—"
"Let me finish." Alyssa simply shrugged her shoulders, muttering the likes of not caring under her breath. "I heard about your mom before I got to know you better, I knew that she'd died just before you joined the competition. I honestly think that at this point, you're scared to let anything good happen to you."
Alyssa let out a laugh at his words. "That is absolutely... ridiculous."
"Or maybe it's absolutely true." Mark spoke, intruding upon their conversation, watching as Alyssa spun around to face him.
"I don't remember asking you, Mark."
Mark shrugged his shoulders at her comment. "It seems that you're getting a lot of unwanted feedback today. But think about it. Not wanting to stick it through the competition, not wanting to stick this out through the end. You're scared of a happy ending."
"No, I'm not! Okay? I'm not afraid of a happy ending!" Alyssa wiped roughly at her eyes before looking down at her shoes, shifting uncomfortably.
Mark rose to his feet with the urging of his wife and walked over to the girl who stood in the middle of the room. He cleared his throat slowly as his eyes studied her. "Then what are you afraid of? What're you trying to run away from?"
"Do you even know how much I would love a happy ending?" Alyssa laughed shortly before looking up at him, wiping her eyes. "I always believed my mom would fight the cancer, that there'd be a happy ending. I prayed to God every night, asking him to keep her safe. But did He do that?" She laughed bitterly, sniffling back her tears. "What makes you think that He's going to let me fulfill my dreams? Get a WWE contract? Find my father? Have him love me, treat me like he would his other children? Yeah. Right. I'm running away because in the end all I'm going to find his more hurt. And I just can't handle anymore of that. I'm getting out before the hurt is unbearable, unlivable. I was at the point where I was wishing my mother had lived and I'd died. I don't want to be at that point again."
"Alyssa, I—" Mark began, but was quickly cut off when Alyssa raced from the room, and from the rented home. She wanted to get away. She had to get out. She couldn't stand there under his scrutinizing gaze. He knew her pain, her hurt. They all did. And Sara, she was a complete stranger. She had been shocked that Mark had said anything to her. And Adam, she'd only known him for a matter of days and now he knew her deepest secrets. He knew her fears, and so did the man she didn't want to let in; the man she'd been wishing would accept her, but she'd been too afraid to trust or rely on: her father.
Alyssa ran a short distance, tripping over the sand that was only a short distance from the beachfront house that had been rented for the trainers. She pounded her fist into the sand, fighting the wave of tears that had been building in her for so long. If she let them go, if she let that tear fall—she felt as though the tears would never stop falling. She had to be strong. She had to keep that façade, had to act as though she were strong. As though she were fine.
But for who? She was alone on a silent beach, with nothing but the sound of waves and the light singing of birds in the distance. So who did she have to be strong for? The birds? No. She was completely alone, and silently, she cried, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. She hated giving into the tears. She hated that she had no physical control over the thoughts and feelings that had been plaguing her. She absolutely hated it. She hated herself.
She was weak. Why couldn't her mother have survived? Why couldn't her mother be there for her now, when she needed her most?
"Alyssa." She heard a masculine voice speak in a reassuring tone, before feeling a strong hand on her shoulder.
"What do you want?" Alyssa whispered shakily at his voice. Why was he there? Why had he followed her out there? He'd never been there for her before, and now all of a sudden he wanted to fix things. Who did he think he was? He thought he could fix things, make them better. What was he thinking?
"I... I was wanting, no, needing to talk to you." Mark spoke, sitting down beside her in the sand.
"Yeah, well, I have nothing to say to you." Alyssa told him, not looking up from her hands, pulling roughly on her fingers.
"Well I have a lot to say to you." Mark spoke, his eyes never moving from her small form, watching her bite down hard on her lip, trying to hold back the tears that were steadily, but silently falling down her cheeks.
"Well isn't that good for you?" She mumbled, pulling her knees to her chest and staring at her feet.
Mark let out a slow breath before speaking. "I was afraid of what this might do to me. To my career, my marriage..." He listed off slowly, sighing.
"What exactly is the 'this' that you're talking about?" Alyssa tightened her jaw, finding her voice to speak to him.
"You." Mark's eyes locked on hers when she lifted her head up to look at him.
"No different from twenty years ago, except you weren't married. You were afraid of what I might do to your precious career. You were on the rise to fame." Letting out a short laugh, she rose to her feet. She wasn't going to sit here and listen to this.
"That's not fair." Mark spoke, his forehead creased as he, too, rose to his feet, grabbing her loosely by the arm.
"You want to talk about what's not fair, Mark? Is that what you want to do?!" Alyssa yelled, her eyes flaring in complete and total anger. "Then let's talk about what's not fair. Is it fair for a little girl to ask her mother why she doesn't have a father and the rest of her friends do? Is it fair... is it fair that I never had my daddy show me how to ride a bike, or... or that he didn't take me to school on the very first day? Or, let me ask you something, Mark. Is it fair that my dad didn't tell me how beautiful I looked before my prom? Is it fair that the night my first boyfriend broke my heart, that my daddy wasn't there to threaten him with his life?" Alyssa's tears fell as she roughly shoved his chest and took a step back. "Or was it fair that the night my mother died, I mourned by myself! I was alone and my mother was dead, and instead of being assured by my father he was nowhere to be found!"
"Alyssa... Alyssa..." Mark let out a shaky breath, gently reaching out to touch her arm assuringly. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry that I pressured your mother to get an abortion, and that I wasn't there to watch you grow up. I regret not seeing your first steps, and sending you off to school. But—" He paused, running his free hand through his hair. "I'd dreamed about wrestling for so long, about being cheered, and booed. I'd dreamed of the adrenaline that I'd get from doing it night after night. I couldn't give that up so easily."
"Oh you couldn't? Not as easily as you could get your pants around your ankles, huh, Daddy?"
"Alyssa cut me some slack here. I'm trying to step up and fix this, okay?" Mark let out a slow breath, his eyes focusing on her intense ones that replicated his so perfectly.
Alyssa shook her head silently. "Let me ask you one question, and then I'll stop making this so hard for you." She paused for a moment, looking his square in his eyes before speaking. "Was it worth it? Was it worth leaving the family you created behind, to get where you did in the business?"
Mark gulped silently. She could see him grow uncomfortable, uneasy at the question. "Alyssa..." He spoke slowly, searching for the words.
"That's what I thought." Alyssa spoke quietly, before walking around him and leaving. Just what she thought. She was nothing compared to the fandom he'd earned. He was successful, because she wasn't in his life. She was nothing. He had everything he wanted, and he'd earned it without her.
Distribution: Ask first.
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Alyssa closed her eyes shortly, shaking her head slightly. She was so hoping to get away without having to say a word, without having to argue, without having to face the truth. Granted, she had wanted somebody to admit for months that Mark was her father, but she was too tired and too frustrated from all of the fighting to have this discussion. And to have this discussion with Mark's wife—her stepmother.
Adam smiled as he led her inside. He was glad that Sara was there to set Mark straight so that they could try to talk this out. He could tell by the look on Alyssa's face, by little comments she would make, that she was hurting from everything. She was hurting from being denied by her biological father. She was hurt by the fact that he had introduced her to the family, as he would any other outsider. She was quite plainly hurt.
"I really don't think there's much for us to talk about." Alyssa sighed quietly as she ran a hand through her hair. She looked between Mark and Sara, standing uncomfortably in the entrance room with Adam.
Mark glanced at Sara, who gave him a stern look. He let out a slow breath before speaking slowly. "Apparently, we do have something to talk about, Alyssa." Running a hand through his short locks.
"Honestly? Yeah, we do have... things to talk about. But I'm not up for it right now. I have other things to do, I—" Alyssa turned for the door, closing her eyes shortly when Adam held her hand firmly, not allowing her to walk away.
"Lyssa."
"Adam, please let's just go, okay?" Alyssa once again made an attempt to leave.
"Alyssa, look at me." Adam spoke firmly, watching her as she turned to face him and reluctantly looked up at him.
"What, Adam?" She pursed her lips together as she looked up at him. Why couldn't he just allow her to leave, and to deal with this when she felt like it? After all, Mark had delayed things, and done things when he wanted to... maybe the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
"You've been waiting for this for months. For him to admit that he might be your father. For him, and for you to talk this out. To figure out what was going to happen. And now, when it's finally happening, when you're both being forced to look at the truth, to look each other in the eye and work this out... you're running scared." Adam's eyes never moved from hers as he spoke firmly, raising his eyebrows as though he was challenging her.
"I am not running scared."
"Then you tell me... what would you call it?"
"I—I just don't want to talk right now is all. I'm tired." Alyssa pulled her hand roughly from his and crossed her arms over her chest before looking down with a creased forehead.
"Bullshit. You wanna know what I think?" Adam inquired, studying the younger girl.
"No, no actually I don't want to know what you think, if that's alright." Alyssa's forehead creased as she started for the door, not daring to look at the couple that sat on the couch together, waiting to see what was going to happen with Adam and Alyssa.
"No, actually it's not alright. You're going to hear what I think anyways. The first time I heard about you wasn't when I walked in to Trax, and you had walked out. It wasn't when I found out you had been trying to quit Tough Enough, and thankfully stayed. I heard about you when you first joined Tough Enough, from Al. He was impressed with you from the start, Alyssa." She simply shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"Look, I really don't think—"
"Let me finish." Alyssa simply shrugged her shoulders, muttering the likes of not caring under her breath. "I heard about your mom before I got to know you better, I knew that she'd died just before you joined the competition. I honestly think that at this point, you're scared to let anything good happen to you."
Alyssa let out a laugh at his words. "That is absolutely... ridiculous."
"Or maybe it's absolutely true." Mark spoke, intruding upon their conversation, watching as Alyssa spun around to face him.
"I don't remember asking you, Mark."
Mark shrugged his shoulders at her comment. "It seems that you're getting a lot of unwanted feedback today. But think about it. Not wanting to stick it through the competition, not wanting to stick this out through the end. You're scared of a happy ending."
"No, I'm not! Okay? I'm not afraid of a happy ending!" Alyssa wiped roughly at her eyes before looking down at her shoes, shifting uncomfortably.
Mark rose to his feet with the urging of his wife and walked over to the girl who stood in the middle of the room. He cleared his throat slowly as his eyes studied her. "Then what are you afraid of? What're you trying to run away from?"
"Do you even know how much I would love a happy ending?" Alyssa laughed shortly before looking up at him, wiping her eyes. "I always believed my mom would fight the cancer, that there'd be a happy ending. I prayed to God every night, asking him to keep her safe. But did He do that?" She laughed bitterly, sniffling back her tears. "What makes you think that He's going to let me fulfill my dreams? Get a WWE contract? Find my father? Have him love me, treat me like he would his other children? Yeah. Right. I'm running away because in the end all I'm going to find his more hurt. And I just can't handle anymore of that. I'm getting out before the hurt is unbearable, unlivable. I was at the point where I was wishing my mother had lived and I'd died. I don't want to be at that point again."
"Alyssa, I—" Mark began, but was quickly cut off when Alyssa raced from the room, and from the rented home. She wanted to get away. She had to get out. She couldn't stand there under his scrutinizing gaze. He knew her pain, her hurt. They all did. And Sara, she was a complete stranger. She had been shocked that Mark had said anything to her. And Adam, she'd only known him for a matter of days and now he knew her deepest secrets. He knew her fears, and so did the man she didn't want to let in; the man she'd been wishing would accept her, but she'd been too afraid to trust or rely on: her father.
Alyssa ran a short distance, tripping over the sand that was only a short distance from the beachfront house that had been rented for the trainers. She pounded her fist into the sand, fighting the wave of tears that had been building in her for so long. If she let them go, if she let that tear fall—she felt as though the tears would never stop falling. She had to be strong. She had to keep that façade, had to act as though she were strong. As though she were fine.
But for who? She was alone on a silent beach, with nothing but the sound of waves and the light singing of birds in the distance. So who did she have to be strong for? The birds? No. She was completely alone, and silently, she cried, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. She hated giving into the tears. She hated that she had no physical control over the thoughts and feelings that had been plaguing her. She absolutely hated it. She hated herself.
She was weak. Why couldn't her mother have survived? Why couldn't her mother be there for her now, when she needed her most?
"Alyssa." She heard a masculine voice speak in a reassuring tone, before feeling a strong hand on her shoulder.
"What do you want?" Alyssa whispered shakily at his voice. Why was he there? Why had he followed her out there? He'd never been there for her before, and now all of a sudden he wanted to fix things. Who did he think he was? He thought he could fix things, make them better. What was he thinking?
"I... I was wanting, no, needing to talk to you." Mark spoke, sitting down beside her in the sand.
"Yeah, well, I have nothing to say to you." Alyssa told him, not looking up from her hands, pulling roughly on her fingers.
"Well I have a lot to say to you." Mark spoke, his eyes never moving from her small form, watching her bite down hard on her lip, trying to hold back the tears that were steadily, but silently falling down her cheeks.
"Well isn't that good for you?" She mumbled, pulling her knees to her chest and staring at her feet.
Mark let out a slow breath before speaking. "I was afraid of what this might do to me. To my career, my marriage..." He listed off slowly, sighing.
"What exactly is the 'this' that you're talking about?" Alyssa tightened her jaw, finding her voice to speak to him.
"You." Mark's eyes locked on hers when she lifted her head up to look at him.
"No different from twenty years ago, except you weren't married. You were afraid of what I might do to your precious career. You were on the rise to fame." Letting out a short laugh, she rose to her feet. She wasn't going to sit here and listen to this.
"That's not fair." Mark spoke, his forehead creased as he, too, rose to his feet, grabbing her loosely by the arm.
"You want to talk about what's not fair, Mark? Is that what you want to do?!" Alyssa yelled, her eyes flaring in complete and total anger. "Then let's talk about what's not fair. Is it fair for a little girl to ask her mother why she doesn't have a father and the rest of her friends do? Is it fair... is it fair that I never had my daddy show me how to ride a bike, or... or that he didn't take me to school on the very first day? Or, let me ask you something, Mark. Is it fair that my dad didn't tell me how beautiful I looked before my prom? Is it fair that the night my first boyfriend broke my heart, that my daddy wasn't there to threaten him with his life?" Alyssa's tears fell as she roughly shoved his chest and took a step back. "Or was it fair that the night my mother died, I mourned by myself! I was alone and my mother was dead, and instead of being assured by my father he was nowhere to be found!"
"Alyssa... Alyssa..." Mark let out a shaky breath, gently reaching out to touch her arm assuringly. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry that I pressured your mother to get an abortion, and that I wasn't there to watch you grow up. I regret not seeing your first steps, and sending you off to school. But—" He paused, running his free hand through his hair. "I'd dreamed about wrestling for so long, about being cheered, and booed. I'd dreamed of the adrenaline that I'd get from doing it night after night. I couldn't give that up so easily."
"Oh you couldn't? Not as easily as you could get your pants around your ankles, huh, Daddy?"
"Alyssa cut me some slack here. I'm trying to step up and fix this, okay?" Mark let out a slow breath, his eyes focusing on her intense ones that replicated his so perfectly.
Alyssa shook her head silently. "Let me ask you one question, and then I'll stop making this so hard for you." She paused for a moment, looking his square in his eyes before speaking. "Was it worth it? Was it worth leaving the family you created behind, to get where you did in the business?"
Mark gulped silently. She could see him grow uncomfortable, uneasy at the question. "Alyssa..." He spoke slowly, searching for the words.
"That's what I thought." Alyssa spoke quietly, before walking around him and leaving. Just what she thought. She was nothing compared to the fandom he'd earned. He was successful, because she wasn't in his life. She was nothing. He had everything he wanted, and he'd earned it without her.
