Title: Lost
Series: Sex, Love and Honesty
Author: Rachel
Email: Edgechick816@aol.com
Category: WWE
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the WWE and themselves
Distribution: Ask please
Rating: PG13 (parts will vary)
Spoilers: Set in October/November 2003
Notes: Second part in a diva series
Notes 2: Each part will be about a different Diva from their POV, as such, each installment will be posted to the appropriate lists.
Summary: A diva finds unexpected comfort.
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)
I don't know why he comes, he says he doesn't pity me, but I don't believe him. If it's not pity, then why the hell does he bother? Certainly not for sex, since he's never asked. I don't make a very good friend at this point. So if it's not pity, then what is it? I've told him how I feel, but he still wants to see me anyway. Ever since my storyline with Torrie he's been coming to me, backstage after shows, to my hotel with ice cream. He listens; he'll never make rude comments like the other guys or proposition me week in and week out like Matt Hardy does. I'd never go for Matt, I've seen the way he treats Molly and don't want that for myself, I don't want it for her either.
Torrie thinks she's better than me, partly because she's blonde. Even more because of our past storylines, the ones where she's the prefect little princess and I'm the bitch making her life a living hell. I'd laugh at the thought if it wasn't so sad. Since, after all, she's the one walking around, making my life miserable. But the main reason is Playboy; the world must love her so much because she got picked to strip for a bunch of teenage boys. I wonder how she'd feel if she knew I got the offer first? I didn't want the job, I have some self-respect, or at least I used to. Nobody even knows about Playboy except him. He says the fact that I didn't take it makes me better than her. Yeah right, like it's so much better being put in bikini matches, or being forced to kiss old men or being dunked in chocolate on international television.
I sigh, stepping back further into the spray of the shower, scrubbing as hard I can in an attempt to wash away this dirty feeling. I don't think I've ever felt as cheap and used as I did tonight. I actually liked the costume, its fun to be a super hero every once and a while. But I didn't like taking my top off and running around covered in candy. Ask Torrie to do that shit, being slutty doesn't bother her, it bothers me. I shut off the water and step out of the shower. Wrapping a big fluffy towel around myself, I walk over to the mirror, checking to make sure all that nasty chocolate is washed off, my finger tips brushing against my face.
He says I'm beautiful. I think the other girls are better looking, he's says I'm wrong. I know he's lying to save face. All men want a Trish or a Torrie, nobody wants just me. Not even Matt, he just tries because he thinks I'm easy. I step away from the glass, going over to my stuff and pulling out some baggy running pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. I don't even feel like wearing jeans, I just wanna cover up, go back to my hotel room and cry. I wanna avoid all the leery looks that I know will be thrown in my direction. Avoid the cat calls from every man on the roster, but I know I won't, so I deal.
As I pull my shirt on I hear a knock at the door. It's him; I know it is, I would have been surprised if he didn't show after what happened tonight.
"Are you decent?" he asks through the door. I snort; he's the only man that would take the trouble of asking me that.
"Does it matter?" I toss back, voicing my annoyance. My tone sounds tired even to me. He must have noticed it too, slowly, he opens the door.
"Dawn," he calls softly, stepping into the room. "are you all right?"
"I'm fine." I say, but we both know it's a lie. I do this every time; he comes in, I pretend like I don't need him and we leave together, it's a dance we go through. Why do I do it if I know the end result is always the same? I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's asserting what little independence I have left, a tiny bit of self-respect and defiance. A mock shell of the woman I used to be before I let Torrie Wilson destroy me. I miss that woman, she's still inside me though, buried beneath Torrie's words, slut chants and an amazing amount of self-doubt. And right now, I can't break through any of those things. I sigh again, going back to my bag, stuffing the last of my things in it.
"Look I really appreciate what you're trying to do but..." I stop as I realize that he's no longer across the room, but right in front of me, lifting my chin to met his eyes. He kisses my forehead and wipes away the tear I didn't ever realize had fallen.
"Shh, don't cry, Baby Girl." he tells me, wrapping his arms around me. "It'll be okay." He holds me there, he doesn't have to ask how I feel, he already knows. I know he'll comfort me, I know he's going make me smile. And I'm going to let him, something the old Dawn Marie would have never done. She would have never let anyone hold her while she cried or let someone into her emotions, but I'm not her anymore, am I? He still sees the woman the used to be, somewhere inside me, I haven't found my way back to her yet, but now I have John Cena to guide me.
And I don't know what scares me more; the fact that I let him in, or the fact that I don't know what I'd do without him.
A/N: Review and let me know what you think.
Series: Sex, Love and Honesty
Author: Rachel
Email: Edgechick816@aol.com
Category: WWE
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to the WWE and themselves
Distribution: Ask please
Rating: PG13 (parts will vary)
Spoilers: Set in October/November 2003
Notes: Second part in a diva series
Notes 2: Each part will be about a different Diva from their POV, as such, each installment will be posted to the appropriate lists.
Summary: A diva finds unexpected comfort.
Feedback: Is loved and much appreciated :)
I don't know why he comes, he says he doesn't pity me, but I don't believe him. If it's not pity, then why the hell does he bother? Certainly not for sex, since he's never asked. I don't make a very good friend at this point. So if it's not pity, then what is it? I've told him how I feel, but he still wants to see me anyway. Ever since my storyline with Torrie he's been coming to me, backstage after shows, to my hotel with ice cream. He listens; he'll never make rude comments like the other guys or proposition me week in and week out like Matt Hardy does. I'd never go for Matt, I've seen the way he treats Molly and don't want that for myself, I don't want it for her either.
Torrie thinks she's better than me, partly because she's blonde. Even more because of our past storylines, the ones where she's the prefect little princess and I'm the bitch making her life a living hell. I'd laugh at the thought if it wasn't so sad. Since, after all, she's the one walking around, making my life miserable. But the main reason is Playboy; the world must love her so much because she got picked to strip for a bunch of teenage boys. I wonder how she'd feel if she knew I got the offer first? I didn't want the job, I have some self-respect, or at least I used to. Nobody even knows about Playboy except him. He says the fact that I didn't take it makes me better than her. Yeah right, like it's so much better being put in bikini matches, or being forced to kiss old men or being dunked in chocolate on international television.
I sigh, stepping back further into the spray of the shower, scrubbing as hard I can in an attempt to wash away this dirty feeling. I don't think I've ever felt as cheap and used as I did tonight. I actually liked the costume, its fun to be a super hero every once and a while. But I didn't like taking my top off and running around covered in candy. Ask Torrie to do that shit, being slutty doesn't bother her, it bothers me. I shut off the water and step out of the shower. Wrapping a big fluffy towel around myself, I walk over to the mirror, checking to make sure all that nasty chocolate is washed off, my finger tips brushing against my face.
He says I'm beautiful. I think the other girls are better looking, he's says I'm wrong. I know he's lying to save face. All men want a Trish or a Torrie, nobody wants just me. Not even Matt, he just tries because he thinks I'm easy. I step away from the glass, going over to my stuff and pulling out some baggy running pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. I don't even feel like wearing jeans, I just wanna cover up, go back to my hotel room and cry. I wanna avoid all the leery looks that I know will be thrown in my direction. Avoid the cat calls from every man on the roster, but I know I won't, so I deal.
As I pull my shirt on I hear a knock at the door. It's him; I know it is, I would have been surprised if he didn't show after what happened tonight.
"Are you decent?" he asks through the door. I snort; he's the only man that would take the trouble of asking me that.
"Does it matter?" I toss back, voicing my annoyance. My tone sounds tired even to me. He must have noticed it too, slowly, he opens the door.
"Dawn," he calls softly, stepping into the room. "are you all right?"
"I'm fine." I say, but we both know it's a lie. I do this every time; he comes in, I pretend like I don't need him and we leave together, it's a dance we go through. Why do I do it if I know the end result is always the same? I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's asserting what little independence I have left, a tiny bit of self-respect and defiance. A mock shell of the woman I used to be before I let Torrie Wilson destroy me. I miss that woman, she's still inside me though, buried beneath Torrie's words, slut chants and an amazing amount of self-doubt. And right now, I can't break through any of those things. I sigh again, going back to my bag, stuffing the last of my things in it.
"Look I really appreciate what you're trying to do but..." I stop as I realize that he's no longer across the room, but right in front of me, lifting my chin to met his eyes. He kisses my forehead and wipes away the tear I didn't ever realize had fallen.
"Shh, don't cry, Baby Girl." he tells me, wrapping his arms around me. "It'll be okay." He holds me there, he doesn't have to ask how I feel, he already knows. I know he'll comfort me, I know he's going make me smile. And I'm going to let him, something the old Dawn Marie would have never done. She would have never let anyone hold her while she cried or let someone into her emotions, but I'm not her anymore, am I? He still sees the woman the used to be, somewhere inside me, I haven't found my way back to her yet, but now I have John Cena to guide me.
And I don't know what scares me more; the fact that I let him in, or the fact that I don't know what I'd do without him.
A/N: Review and let me know what you think.