Warning: Bullying and suicide discussed.
Kevin was making his way back to the nWo locker room when a faint melody caught his attention. Concentrating on the noise, he strained his ears to hear the music. What song was this? He felt like he had heard it years, possibly even decades ago. Moving further down the hall, the music was getting louder, though it wasn't blaring. Following the sound, he arrived outside of Mark's locker room. The music was coming from inside and he was sure it was the sisters who where listening to it. It didn't sound like Mark's type of stuff.
Then he heard an unexpected, anguished cry from the other side of the door. He stopped to listen. Next came a frustrated groan. What was that? Where they ok in there?
Against his better judgement he knocked on the door. He wasn't sure if Mark was in there or not. He knew it was really none of his business, but he wanted to make sure they weren't hurt or in pain. He briefly wondered why he cared, but it was truthfully part of his nature. He had earned a reputation as a heartless asshole over the years, but he genuinely cared about people's welfare. It was when people made the mistake of fucking with his buddies that the ogre came out in him.
The knock on the door caused Heather to jump, making her heart race. Who was that? Her father wouldn't knock. Neither would Rev. That meant it was likely someone inquiring after her father. Her shoulders sagged. She let out an anxious sigh, followed by a frown. She came to the conclusion that she would be the one to answer the door.
Reves was always the one to answer the door when their father was away. He wasn't particularly pleased with that, but sometimes people had important messages to deliver to him.
She kept still a few moments. Maybe they would come back later. Then the knocking came once more. She lowered her head and sighed. She knew if anyone had witnessed her at that moment, they would deduce that she was completely pathetic. She slowly rose and began making her way to the door.
Heather prayed silently it was not Mr. McMahon. He terrified her with his imposing stance and booming voice. Placing her hand on the door knob, she hesitated a moment, then scolded herself for being so ridiculous.
She turned the door knob, then cautiously opened the door a few feet. "Y-yes?" she asked in her timid voice. She looked up at the face of the seven-footer, Kevin Nash. Her face flushed a deep crimson upon the sight of him.
Kevin was surprised the little sister was answering the door. He noticed right away the bright glow that always seemed to stain her cheeks. Her large, wide eyes were staring up at him with curiosity.
When his eyes connected to hers, her gaze became down cast. "My father isn't here right now," she muttered.
"Where is he?" Kev wasn't looking for Mark, but since she mentioned it, he figured he would ask.
Her gaze flicker upward, briefly. "The Lord of Darkness is holding court." She had always enjoyed the sound of that, but once she had said it out loud, she silently reprimanded herself for uttering something so idiotic.
Kevin had thought he had seen a vague smile tugging at the corners for her mouth, but it disappeared quick as a flash. Nodding, he stayed silent for a moment. "It sounded like someone was hurt. You kids ok in there?"
Her mantle deepened. She did not realize she had made such a commotion. She had acted quite dramatic had she not? "It's just me, I'm afraid. And yes, I am quite alright. Merely frustrated," she admitted.
"What's the matter?" He wasn't sure why he was curious, but he was.
"Oh, it's just some bothersome Calculous work." Heather replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. She had to say, she was a bit taken back at his inquiry.
"Maybe I can help you," he said, much to her surprise and to his a well.
"You know Calculus?" she questioned in amazement, pushing the black frames up on her face.
He somehow found her action the be very endearing, though he hadn't the slightest hint as to why. "I did. About a thousand years ago," he joked.
Without conscience contemplation, Heather opened the door wider and Kevin walked in. He saw the books and papers sitting on the coffee table at the center of the room.
Heather returned to were she was seated previously on the floor, while Kevin sat down on the plush leather couch. He took hold of the paper she seemed to be working on. "Woah," Kev exhaled sharply and shook his head. He had worked with these formulas, but that was way back in college, before this girl was probably even alive.
His eyes scanned the paper for the last problem she was struggling with. He took a look at her work book. Even though this was years past him, he noticed her issue right way. He placed the paper back on the table in front of her. "You have the two and the five mixed up here," he pointed out to her gently.
Heather's jaw fell open as if it had suddenly come unhinged. Her eyes darted back and forth between her work book and the paper. The color in her face erupted like lava. She lamented, "Transposed numbers? You have got to be kidding me!" She had been having a rough time concentrating. She was too worried about Rev.
Heather dropped her head, face first on the table. "Ouch," she winced. When she raised her head, the paper had clung over her face. She tore it way, positive she looked like an absolute imbecile.
Kevin chuckled. He had to admit, there was something about this little girl's dorkiness that somehow made her surprisingly charming.
Heather looked away, wringing her hands nervously. She recognized that laugh. It was that pitiful you poor idiotic loser laugh. She had received it from peers at school as well as her father's co-workers. "T-thank you. I am really striving to graduate early, by the end of the school year, so my coursework is doubled." she forced herself to speak despite her feelings of disparagement.
"No problem," Kevin replied. That sounds like a substantial load, he thought. He noticed a stack of textbooks and other work books sitting at the other end of the table. A top the pile sat a novel. Kevin's curiosity as to what tale she was devouring now bested him and he picked it up.
The cover was adorned with the image of a young girl. She had a lollipop to her lips, eyes peering out coyly over heart shaped sunglasses. "Lolita?" he read aloud. "Your old man lets you read this garbage?" he asked incredulously.
Heather's eyes protruded from her head as she snatched the lecherous tome from him. She concealed it under a stack of papers, resting her arm on top. "It's on assignment," she whispered. "I have to write a thesis on why Humbert is an unreliable narrator."
Kevin only nodded. He had never read the book, but he had seen bits and pieces of the Jeremy Irons film. Heavy stuff, to say the least.
With her arm still over the pile, Kevin's eyes were then drawn to the inside of Heather's wrist, more specifically the egregious scar that ran approximately two inches in length down the center. "What is that?" he questioned without hesitation.
Coming to the realization of his inquiry, Heather instantly pulled her arm down into her lap and covered the scar with her hand as if she could erase the sight of it.
She didn't meet his eyes, but he watched them cloud over with a harrowing pain. It pervaded the atmosphere of the room, covering it with an unmistakable blanket of sorrow. Her mind seemed to be recalling some distant memory that she was struggling to keep buried and Kevin almost instantly regretted asking.
To his surprise, she spoke after a few moments, though she didn't look at him. "It's why I'm here," she said in an even but lifeless tone.
"I don't understand what you mean," Kevin told her in confusion.
She expelled a heavy sigh. "Well, about six months ago," she paused. "I, I tr-tried to, to kill myself," She choked out.
Heather's eyes started to well with tears and she lowered her head. "There was this girl, a group of girls, actually. They had bullied me for the longest time. Though this one in particular was the puppet master, the other's were her acolytes." She stopped a moment.
There were very few times in his life that Kevin Nash was ever rendered speechless. This was one of those times. He only stared at the top of her hanging head, her long ebony tendrils creating a veil over her face. What kind of savage assholes would bully this tiny, bashful creature?
"The irony of it is that girl, the leader, was once my closest friend. We met the first day of Kindergarten and we were nearly inseparable. But after she spent the summer before sixth grade in California with her aunt, she was only obsessed with boys and fashion. Myself, I was into music and books, much like today," she said sounding embarrassed. "She started hanging out with a different group. At first, she would ditch me for these other girls. But then it turned into name calling and taunting and if you asked Brittany, she would tell you we had never been friends."
"One day after P.E. class," she breathed out deeply and kept her head inclined. "I was ch-changing in a bathroom stall. When I came out, they all surrounded me," her voice was cracking. "They, they t-tore all my, my…clothes off. Then they shoved me completely n-naked, into the boys' locker room where the JV team was getting ready for practice. It was mortifying and terrifying. The terrible things those boys said."
When she raised her head her usually shining emerald eyes looked completely dead. Although her voice relayed her distress, her face was a mask, devoid of emotion. "I knew I couldn't show my face in school again, so when I got home that day, I resolved to end my misery. This was during that whole DDP stalker angle, when my mother was traveling with my father a lot."
Heather was twirling a loose thread at the hem of her shirt casually between her fingers as she spoke. "They weren't due home for a couple of days. I deduced that I would be long expired by then, but it would seem Mr. McMahon had given them some extra time off," she shrugged. "I had forgotten to lock the door and my mother can in and found me in the bathtub, right as I had just…" Her voice trailed off, but there was no need to finish. The images were painted all too vividly.
She had no explanation as to why she was telling him all of this. He was just going to think she was some sort of cutter freak.
"Anyway, they withdrew me from school and here Reves and I are," she said as she tugged on the thread that was twisted around her finger and it snapped.
So that explained her somber demeanor, the melancholy expression behind her striking eyes. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," Kevin said, his timbre low and gentle.
"Why?" she asked in bewilderment. Her eyes met his once again, though her brows were furrowed as she was on the defense. She noted the flecks if golden brown in his eyes before she said, "It's not like you did anything."
Heather quickly dropped her head, stunned by the tone in which she had spoken.
"No one should be made to feel so low they want to take their own life," he said sympathetically.
To Heather his words sounded more like pity. "Perhaps for some." She was silent a moment. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly normal."
Next, Heather was so stunned by the booming laughter that was expelled by the behemoth, she nearly jump out of her skin. Perplexed, she stared at him with her large doe eyes. She hadn't the slightest comprehension as to what was so comical about her statement.
"Sweetheart, who the fuck is normal?" he asked, holding her gaze. "Take myself for example, I was over six foot tall by the time I was twelve years old. There are not many people who can make that claim."
Her face flared up again and Kevin swore he saw the hint of a smile as she bit her lip. Yes, but there were not many people who were going to bully him. Not unless their brain cell count was only in the single digits.
Heather was now twisting the ends of one of the long tendrils that fell over her shoulder, creating a spiral of black and violet. "M-may I say something? If It's not too forward, that is." She briefly glanced up at him, then back down to the coil of hair between her slender fingers.
"Sure, kid. Shoot," he said, leaning forward slightly.
"I hope this will not present itself as indignant, but you seem to have a lot of time on your hands compared to my father," she said, then wished immediately, that she could retract her statement.
Kevin smirked and rubbed the goatee on his chin. "Well, let's just say we aren't the most popular guys in the locker room. Not like Mark, who everyone respects. Not to mention, I try to keep my obligations as low as fucking possible," he chuckled.
Heather's lips tugged into a small grin and she repositioned her glasses which had slipped down her pert nose again. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Nash," she squeaked as she straightened a few papers.
Although she was mum on the matter, Kevin was sure she was thanking him for more than locating her mathematical error. He felt for this kid. She was sweet, certainly a little naive. That coupled with her tiny stature, with out a doubt made her an easy target. It wasn't any surprise why Mark was so protective of his girls and of her especially.
Kevin smirked at the docile creature. "You're welcome. And by the way, it's Kev, remember?"
"Oh, um, ok. Thanks…" she paused briefly, mustering the straight to utter his first name. "K-kev." She winced as if she had been slapped. There were very few people she was on a first name basis with, aside from the Hardys and Amy.
She wasn't meeting his gaze until he spoke after a few moments. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Good luck, kid," he said as he stood.
Heather craned her neck to peer up at the giant, now towering over her. Although she was used to being in the company of gargantuan athletes and despite the fact that Kevin and her father were approximately the same height, she still found it imposing to be in such close proximity to such a behemoth.
"Th-thank you," she muttered again as he let himself out of the room.
Thinking on their conversation, Kevin was wonder struck that she had shared such an intimate and harrowing aspect of her life. He wasn't sure what had persuaded her to do so, but he was glad he understood some of the sorrow behind those striking emerald eyes. Still, there was yet something else there. His heart went out to the kid when she mentioned Mark and how much time he spent working. He couldn't shake the notion that she felt quite a lot of disconnect despite traveling with him all the time.
As Kevin rounded the corner a mass of blonde hair collided into his chest. The figure stumbled backwards. Those piercing blue belonging to Reves Calaway shot up towards him. Her hair along with the rest of her appearance was disheveled.
"Oh. Sorry dude," she offered hastily as she rushed off. It was evident she as racing back to Mark's dressing room before he returned.
Kevin shook his head. Where had she been and what had she been doing to cause her to look like such a mess?