F*ck

Taylor carefully slid her elastic knee brace down, over her calf, and kicked it off her ankle. She took a moment to look at the horrid purple-and-red bruise that spread over the inside of her knee, from where Death Bunny had smashed it on the ring post.

Death Bunny. Fucking asshole.

She took a deep breath and stowed away her thoughts about the recent match, if you could call it that. It was more of a beating. First, Taylor gave it, then got it, and hard. She knew she'd regret it, but she had to look in the mirror... at the puffy, discolored mess of her pretty face.

Staring back at her were the same intense, dark blue eyes... But one of them was half-lidded by the swelling around her fractured orbital bone. Her face, beautiful and slender with sharp features, a straight nose, and a heart-stopping smile, was gone. The crooked, smashed in nose, the lop-sided, swollen face, the damaged, wincing monster that wore her eyes and stared back at her, wasn't her.

She closed her eyes and let the agonizing wave of self pity wash over her. Another slow, unsteady breath, and she turned for the shower. She stood naked beside it, and checked the water first with her fingers, then with her toes. Warm, but not too hot as to irritate her injuries.

She stepped in, and winced when she put weight on her knee. She grabbed the horizontal metal bar on the side for balance. The last thing in the world that she needed was to slip in the fucking shower. She imagined the headlines... Following brutal three-on-one beating, idiot pro wrestler dies in the shower. Fuck me.

She stared down at the drain and watched the water run down. It cascaded down over her body, warming her aching muscles, while the noise helped to block out the world outside. She pretended that the rest of the world was paused while she showered, and that there was nothing to think about or worry about but the water running down between her toes, as she wiggled them up and down. She leaned forward to put her face in the water and wet her hair, and gasped.

"Ah! Agh..." The water stung the cuts on her face and made her eye throb, and even after she pulled back it took a moment for the pain to subside. She balled her fist and her body tensed, as if ready to beat the shit out of her shower head, but another quivering breath to calm down...

She was so tired of being beat up all the time. She always hurt somewhere. She was always nursing something. And as much as she loved the hospital staff that attended to her wounds, this time and every other time, she was disgusted that she had cause to be on a first name basis with them. She pushed and pushed and pushed in training, she suffered through all the trials her body could take to sharped her skills and dissolve her limitations, and still she got beaten bloody in the ring. She had come so far, only to keep the belt warm for Kelly Conway. She had to wonder, as her fingernails dug into her palms, what was the point?

Involuntarily, as if someone else was living in her body, she felt her muscles tense and her fists clench, her breathing quicken and her face twist painfully into a foul expression. The sound that came out of her wasn't her, it was the thing in the mirror.

"GrrrrrRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" She screamed, so loudly the neighbors might've heard. She gasped a deep breath, and then another. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"

She screamed until her throat shredded, and the ragged, tortured sounds that came out became quieter and quieter. She panted, almost out of breath, and hammered her fist against the wall of the shower.

"FUCK! FUUUUUUUUCK!" Came her gravely, bloody cry, over and over, until she had no voice left at all. "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! FUUUUCK! FU- hah... Huuh..."

Her face was bleeding again. Her screaming her contorted her enough to crack the swollen skin around her eye, and the hot water was like a rain of needles diving under her skin. She dropped down to a squat, arms around her knees and hands covering her face, while heavy, uncontrollable sobs wracked her body. Her hands hardened into claws, with nothing to dig into. She had nothing to punch. She wanted to pull her hair out, she wanted to break her own eye socket, she wanted to smash her own nose. She wanted to scream, but only a hoarse, panting noise came out of her.

She grabbed the shower curtain beside her, the only thing in reach she could destroy, and yanked it down, popping it off of each ring before it fell in a heap. The water ran down over it and began to pool on the bathroom tile while Taylor sobbed.

It had been hard since Taylor came home from the hospital. Normally she was so rugged, that even a few bumps and bruises wouldn't stop her from her usual routine. If anything, her stubbornness usually made that routine a bit more feisty. but this time was different.

Taylor's physical condition made even a gentle kiss something that brought pain to her. Johnny just wanted to hold her tightly and he couldn't. She had thrown herself to the wolves, almost willingly and while she had done her best, he hadn't even taken out one of the bitches that wrecked her. He knew what it was like all too well and he knew he couldn't stop her, so he hadn't tried. He had done the same he just hadn't come out as bad.

However, when he heard Taylor start to scream like she was being stabbed, he rushed to the bathroom and flung the door open. He saw her in the middle of the shower, crying with the curtain pulled down.

"Taylor!" He gasped and rushed over to her. He leaned over the shower and let it pour over him, even though he was clothed and looked down at her. "Taylor..." He said, his lips turning down into a sad frown. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he wasn't even sure where he could without hurting her and that hurt him the most. So he just stayed with his arm pressed against the backside of the shower while the water cascaded off of him and dropped on the floor. It fell everywhere but on his wife as he looked down at her with worried eyes.

Taylor knew Johnny was there, though she heard nothing. She was only dimly aware that the water no longer fell on her, and she drew her hands up to her face while she clutched the curtain in her fists.

"Johnny..." She gasped. It hurt to talk. "Why me?"

And with that, the sobbing returned. She fell onto her side and curled her knees up to her chest while her body shook in utter misery.

Johnny's heart sank and his frown deepened. He watched as she slid onto her side and curled up into a miserable Taylorball. Johnny pulled off his sopping shirt and tossed it to the bathroom floor, making sure that the water still didn't fall on her. He didn't think to turn it off. Maybe, he sort of felt it needed to be there, just... not on her.

"Taylor..." He said softly and dropped to his knees. He reached out and let his fingers slip along her wet hair very carefully. "This world... just can't handle how awesome you are, babe." He said and weakly smiled as his fingers traced her hair.

"We'll get you up and running soon enough." He encouraged softly.

Taylor's sobs finally gave way to a long moaning sound, and she laid limp on her side. She rested her head against the floor of the tub, and winced when the contact sent more pain through her injured face. She adjusted, and tried to find a tolerable position. She paused before she spoke again.

"I was the worst champ ever," she moaned. "And know what's so stupid about it?" She turned her eyes to look up at Johnny. "I wouldn't do anything differently."

"No way, dude!" Johnny said, smiling earnestly. "You were the most kick ass champ ever! If some bitch was all stalking someone else and junk, they'd be all runnin away and shit. You were all, let's fuckin do this, man!" Johnny's grin widened. "And you were all fuck you! Bring every skank you've got!"

Johnny leaned over and gave the gentlest kiss he could to Taylor's ear. He figured THAT might be one place she wasn't sore.

"I'm proud of you babe..."

Johnny's unwavering support made it harder for Taylor to be angry, and she had to rethink her words before she spoke. He understood her, and she couldn't ask for a better husband. But he wasn't the problem here.

"Well..." She rolled her head to the side and bunched up a handful of the fallen shower curtain. "I'm glad you like it, because this is it. This is me," she said, and her scratchy voice tickled and made her clear her throat. "I did the best I could, and look at me. I hope you're not squeemish or anything because I'm definitely not getting any prettier."

She pushed herself up to a sitting position with her thighs pressed together and her legs swung to one side. Beads of water clung to her naked body and made her shiver. "I'm just not smart like Kelly is. I don't wanna be. She's gonna be champ for a long time because she doesn't do stupid shit like I do, and I'm a fucking retard."

Her anger surged again and she waved her hands in the air. "And I don't WANT to be up and running again! I WANT to be somebody else! Somebody that WINS, and doesn't FUCKING LOSE THE TITLE TO THAT FUCKING BITCH!"

She paused for a moment, panting for air. She mopped her forehead with her arm as if she was sweating, but it was just water from the shower. "It hurts so much, babe. It just hurts so fucking much, and I know it will, and still all I wanna do is fight. I can't stand sitting still."

"Babe..." Johnny said, his smile relaxing into something more natural. "You're always gonna be fuckin, smokin hot." He said. "All this shit's gonna heal and you'll still be a rockhard badass and..." Johnny turned and blushed a bit. "You'll still be ..." He bit his lip. "kawaii as well.." He muttered in a low tone, unsure why he said that rather than cute. Either way, he doubted she ever wanted to be thought of as cute, but to him, she was.

"That bitch can't play the kinda game she does forever, dude. her luck's gonna run out. She doesn't even have friends. YOU'VE got friends, babe. People that actually give a shit about ya. Who gives a shit about Kelly Conway? She's a hobag, man."

Johnny finally turned and reached out, shutting off the water, letting it drip until it stopped. "If she took something that doesn't belong to her... then take it back. Or, at least make her regret doing it in the first place..." Johnny wasn't really the kind of person to hold a big grudge, but he understood her position. He was currently in the process of taking it hard in his own league.

"I'm kind of tired of all these assholes fucking around with you. If I was a chick, then they wouldn't stand a chance with both of us together..." He said smiling. "I'd be a pretty hot chick, too, babe." He said, grinning, hoping that maybe he could make her smile a bit.

Taylor didn't acknowledge Johnny's joke in any way. She stared off at a spot on the floor, now covered in an inch of water. She was still thinking about what he said... About taking it back, and making her regret it...

"Babe..." She said, more calm and collected than she had been all day. "I'm really sick of getting kicked around."

She brought a hand up and traced her fingers over the swollen and bleeding skin on her face. It hurt. "People have been talking a lot of shit. People have been getting away with shit that..." She shook her head slowly. "Avery. People have got to pay. Maybe... I've been too soft. I've been going crazy trying to get Kelly in the ring for a fair fight, but if this is war... Maybe I need to start fighting back."

She looked up at Johnny. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Johnny said and straightened up. He held out his hand for her. "I'm tired of King and his shit. He hides behind girls when he's a fuckin monster. He wants to keep using them as a shield, I'm done worrying about how they feel. Not all of em are Bree. Not all of em are just useful idiots, man." He said. "So, I'm gonna start tearin em down tell there's just me an him. If he tries his usual shit on another girl, I'm gonna beat his ass."

"Babe, you're amazing. You're one of the best chicks I've ever met. And, I don't think anyone's gotta bigger heart than you." He said seriously. "And I know you don't take any shit from anyone and I know you wanna do things the fair way, but... I don't think there's anythin wrong with gettin a lil mud on yer boots. That doesn't make ya a pig, if ya know what I'm sayin." Johnny said, scratching his head with his free hand.