Twenty-One

Celeste walked into the Alltel Arena for No Mercy 2002, hand-in-hand with Mark. There was a shake in her hands and a hesitancy in her step. Mark squeezed her hand reassuringly; she knew that he would never let her get hurt. Never again. The days of being somebody's punching bag were long over. She looked good, dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a red silk V-neck top. Her caramel hair was styled in tight ringlets, with neutral and natural makeup to accompany the look. Her nails were a nude shade. Mark looked down at her and smiled. He was proud to have her on his arm; she looked like a living, breathing doll.

They walked into his locker room. She took a seat on the leather couch. Mark dropped his bag on the wooden bench. He looked over at her; she was shaking like a leaf and fidgeting. "Are you sure you're going to be okay, Celeste?"

"Yeah, I'll be just fine," she assured him. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that made him concerned about the idea of leaving her by herself. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but his phone went off. Looking down at the screen, he read the text message and sighed.

"It's Stephanie. She wants to see me quick. Lock the door behind me and don't let anyone in for anything. I'll send you a text when I'm at the door, all right?" She nodded and he disappeared out the door. Celeste locked the door behind him. Later on, Mark would be meeting Brock inside Hell in a Cell, which promised that there would be mayhem, violence and bloodshed. She was afraid for Mark and Brock. The idea of people getting hurt, the idea of her being stuck in the middle of some warped triangle just didn't sit right with her. She wished there was something she could do to make the madness stop.

She watched the show on the monitor. Trish had just defeated Molly Holly to capture her third Women's Championship. Jonathan Coachman caught up with Brock and Paul backstage. They were with a brunette woman who claimed she had slept with Mark. Celeste had been paying attention to all the developments from Mark's home. She knew all about Traci. But she didn't care; it wasn't like Mark was her boyfriend. Whomever he was spending his time with was none of her business. Traci claimed they were still hooking up, but Celeste knew if that was true, it wasn't while he was at home. When he was with her, he didn't seem to spend time with anyone else.

For a moment, she wondered if Brock was sleeping with Traci. It wouldn't surprise her, since she had heard he was sleeping with other women backstage. The idea that she had been sharing Brock with multiple women made her feel dizzy, sick to her stomach. What a pig.

There was a knock on the door. She almost jumped out of her skin. Celeste cupped a hand over her mouth to stay silent. "Open up, Celeste, I know you're in there!" Her heart froze.

It was Brock.

Of course he knew she was here, and of course he knew she was with Mark. He wasn't an idiot. He banged and pounded on the door for a few minutes before giving up, promising her that he would come back and see her after the match, when Mark was laid out and bleeding to death in the ring. "He's going to be leaving in a hearse. I hope you enjoy having that on your conscience, Celeste. It didn't have to be this way, you know," he told her menacingly. The wave of disgust she felt for her one-time love was overwhelming. When she was sure he was gone, she allowed her muscles to relax, her entire body sinking into the couch. She felt emotionally spent from being so afraid all the time.

Mark overheard everything Traci had to say about Stephanie. About how she lied, about how she wanted him back. She turned to face Mark, her brown eyes wide in a mixture of emotions, of shock, surprise and honest-to-God fear. Mark's eyes were cold.

"You're a lying bitch!" he roared. Mark turned his attention to Stephanie, who sat behind her desk in a black shirt and a leather jacket. "Thanks, Steph - I owe you one." He left the General Manager's office. He spotted Brock and Paul entering Brock's locker room. His eyes darkened; he was pretty sure they put two and two together. He hoped they hadn't tried anything. Mark took off down the hall towards his locker room with purpose, quickly texting Celeste to make sure she was okay.

She opened the door. "He came by here, didn't he?"

"Yeah. I wonder what kept him from kicking down the door," she answered.

"About a hundred witnesses," he replied, walking into the locker room. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just go out there and kick his ass tonight, will you?" Mark nodded, walking over to his duffel bag. He pulled out his ring gear with his good hand.

"Think you can give me a hand with my bandana tonight?" he asked sheepishly, motioning to his broken hand with a cock of his head. She nodded and he flashed her a smile, disappearing into the shower area to change. When he emerged, he looked like he was ready for a fight. He handed Celeste the red bandana. He leaned down so Celeste could tie the bandana around his head.

"There you go. Done and done," she said, a smile tugging at her beautiful features. She was so close; he could smell her perfume. He wanted to lean in and kiss her, but he resisted, afraid of scaring her half to death.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay back here? Should I hook you up with Trish?"

"I actually might prefer that," Celeste confessed. He surprised her by putting both his hands on her face. His hands were calloused and warm. His eyes no longer sparkled. She could see the seriousness in his eyes. She felt a little pang of worry ripple through her veins.

"If anything happens tonight, if I lose, get out of here. Just get back to the hotel, okay? Do not stay here and wait for me. Brock's going to count on that." She nodded. "I mean it, Celeste. If anything happens to me, I want you to be safe. I want to know you're safe. I mean it."

"I know, Mark. I promise." Mark gave her a hug. They stood and together they snuck over to Trish's locker room. She wished him good luck and they separated.

Celeste was in Mark's locker room, gathering their things at the end of the night with Trish. It was the worst-case scenario; Mark had lost. Brock had done what he had promised, leaving Mark laying in the middle of the ring in a pool of his own blood. Her heart had dropped. She was scared to death that Mark was seriously hurt, but she had to remember what he said.

The locker room door burst open with a huge kick. Celeste and Trish both screamed out in surprise. Brock stood in the doorway, the WWE Championship hanging around his neck. Mark's blood smeared his arms and chest. Celeste wanted to be sick. Trish grabbed Celeste and shoved her behind her.

"Brock, you'd better back off..." Trish started. He grabbed her roughly by the hair and flung her into the wall. She collided head-first, collapsing to the ground with a sickening "ugh".

"Trish!" Celeste moved towards Trish, but Brock stepped in her way. They were at a stalemate now, staring into each other's eyes. The Brock Lesnar she had known and loved so long ago no longer stood in front of her. She dropped the bag in her hands. She was ready to fight if she had to. Never again would she be his pin cushion or his punching bag. Celeste Marlowe was nobody's victim anymore.

"Long time no see, Celeste. You look beautiful," he said. There was a sweet edge mixed with the menacing tone in his voice. She didn't say a word to him. Her fists were clenched at her sides. Trish was stirring on the ground, holding her head. "How's Texas been treating you?"

"Just fine."

"You've fucked him, haven't you?"

"That's none of your business." Wrong answer. He lunged at her in a flash, pinning her up against the wall. His hands dug painfully into her shoulders. She cried out as he pushed against her harder. His breathe was hot and heavy on her neck. He inhaled her. Her fear turned him on. She stared at him, wide-eyed. He had become an animal, out-of-control and bloodthirsty.

"I bet you have. I can see it in your eyes. Was he better than me, Celeste? Or did he not measure up? I bet he didn't," he growled, biting her earlobe. She gasped; the bite was hard, but not enough to draw blood. In the corner, Trish was using the wall to slowly stand to her feet. She was concussed. It was a horrible way for her to celebrate winning her third Women's Championship. Brock grabbed hold of Celeste's left breast, kneading it roughly in his hand.

Celeste finally felt something inside of her snap. Leaning forward, she brought her knee up as hard as she could, catching an unexpected - and visibly aroused - Brock in the groin. His blue eyes widened. He stumbled back and fell to one knee. While downed, Celeste hit him as hard as she could with a hay-maker, taking him down to the ground. She moved over him quickly to escape, but he grabbed her ankle and brought her down to the floor with him. Celeste screeched, and Trish made a grab for Celeste's arm. Angry, Celeste brought her foot back and kicked Brock right in the sternum, causing him to let her go. He wheezed and howled in agony on the floor as Trish grabbed Celeste and Mark's bags, the two of them slinging their respective bags over their shoulder. Celeste ushered Trish out, turning in the doorway to look at Brock just one last time.

"If you ever, ever come near me again, Brock, I'll kill you," she threatened, her voice shaky with rage and adrenaline. "I mean it. We're over." Turning off the light, she left the locker room, closing Brock in the darkness, closing the darkest chapter of her life.