FicWad

Title: Looking Back
Author: LadyLissa
Wrestler(s): Dallas/Kid Kash
Content: m/m sex and relationships, mentions of abuse, mentions of violent sexual acts, mentions of BD/SM, angst, attempted suicide
SLash/Het/Mixed: Slash
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue
Distribution: Kliq's Camelot, otherwise ask, and ye shall probably receive
Rating: NC17
Any Notes? Dark and twisted. Written for the StarCrossedHearts anniversary challenge.

Today should be our anniversary. I don't want to remember that, but I can't help myself. It's all I can think about right now. Him. What he looked like. What he liked to do. Things we had done together.

I see in full and vibrant Technicolor the first time I met him. His beautiful blonde hair was hanging down his back as he stalked into the locker room. His crystal clear blue eyes were intense and angry as he glared sullenly around the room, everyone falling under his gaze shrinking back from him. His small form radiated power like nothing else I had ever seen. The magnetism I had felt to him from that very first minute was unparalleled. Something in him called to me, and by all rights he owned me, heart, mind, body, and soul from that first instant.

My mind shifts, and now I'm seeing the first time he ever kissed me. The memory is emblazoned in my brain, so bright I can see every last detail. We were sitting in a production meeting with Jarrett, D'Amore, and AMW. Kash had his hair pulled back in a ponytail and I was watching the way the light reflected off of it, making it seem to shine like spun gold. Jeff said something, I was too busy staring at Kash to pay much attention to what it was, but then he was looking at me, so I just nodded and hoped that was the right answer. Honestly it usually is, just agree with Jarrett and then do whatever you want anyway, it seems to save me a lot of headaches. It was right for Jarrett, but Kash said no, then turned to me. I can still hear his voice hissing at me. "You do what I say, when I say. I own you. Do you understand me, Dallas?" I was too struck dumb by the 'I own you.' to do any more than just nod and continue to stare stupidly at him. Kash got this sadistically beautiful smirk on his face and leaned in and kissed me, hard. His mouth was harsh and demanding as he plundered mine with his tongue, seeking out all the hidden crevices, silently bidding me to submit to him, and even if I had a choice, I would have, something in me willed it as strongly as he did. He broke away several long seconds later, turning back to the conversation as though nothing had happened. I, on the other hand, sat there feeling so confused and alone now that he was no longer kissing me. Had I dreamed it, I remember thinking, but no, my lips were still stinging from the brutality of it, sending a pleasant tingle down my spine.

I stand and shake my head, walking over to the refrigerator to get another beer. The eight or so I've already drank haven't dulled the images. I don't know why I'm still trying, but at least the movement clears my head and I'm back in the present. I stare longingly at the phone for a long moment, wanting to call him so badly I could cry. The hell with that, I am crying. I won't, though. I can't. I don't have his new number. I wonder if I could get it from someone?

I sit back down, opening my beer and taking a long swallow. I feel so lost, so alone. Everyone tells me to just suck it up and move on. Get over him and get on with my life. If only it were that easy. He's moved on. Yeah, I know he has. To tell the truth, he probably moved on before he moved out. So why can't I?

There it goes again. My mind doing those funny things like a movie that I just can't turn off. I see Kash walking towards me at the hotel, his intense gaze locked to my own as he slammed the door to my room shut behind him. I know this memory before it even begins playing out, though it could honestly be a lot of different ones. It's not, though, it's the first time Kash fucked me. His voice was cold and uncaring as he ordered me to strip, his hands were harsh and rough as he brutally took me in a way no other ever had, his body was tight, small, and hot as he pressed me down into the bed, his cock was huge, throbbing, and leaking as he thrust it into my unprepared, untried ass, his demeanor was ruthless, demanding, and callous as he took me again and again, branding me as his own property. I could have fought him, could have stopped him. I am a lot bigger than Kash is, and I'm no weakling, but I didn't want to. Something in me wanted to give it to him as much as he wanted to take it. Afterwards he curled up in my arms and sobbed out the hatred and anger that ran through his veins like blood, allowing me to cuddle him, run my hands through his beautiful long blonde hair and press soothing kisses to his forehead. Did it stop him from taking me like that again? No. Did I care? That would be a resounding hell no, as long as he took me, I didn't care how he did it.

My body throbs in protest as I climb to my feet and throw the now empty beer bottle into the trash, staggering my way over to the refrigerator to get another one. I pause by the phone once again, this time going so far as to pick it up, trying my damndest to think of someone who might have his new number. I can't think of anyone who would give it to me, though. In my anger I tear the phone from the wall and throw it across the room, watching in fascination as it shatters against the wall and falls in broken pieces to the ground. Just like my heart when he ripped it out by leaving.

I slide to the ground against the counter, my traitorous head falling between my hands, images still playing across my mind. I see us moving his things into the house. This house. I was so happy that day, so very happy. Everyone said that things were moving too fast between us, but I didn't care. I loved him with all my heart and soul. I would have given anything to be with him, and here he was moving in with me. So what if he never said he loved me, he was moving in, and that implied it, right? We spent the entire day unpacking boxes and the entire night fucking like rabbits in our bed. I loved the sound of that, our bed. Now I can't even sleep in the damn thing. I've slept on the couch every night since he left. Either that or wherever I passed out at. The kitchen floor has seen more of my body laying on it here recently than anywhere else.

The beer bottle slips out of my hands, falling and breaking on the floor in front of me. The liquid in the bottle splashes up and soaks me. I consider getting up and going to shower and change, but I don't. I sit here wet and crying, smelling of beer and blood where the glass nicked my thigh and remember all the times he made me bleed. I wasn't too sure I liked it at first. Pain had always been something I could take, hell I'm a professional wrestler, of course I can take it, but that was all. Not something I liked. I did it because he needed it, and I wanted to give him what he needed. I learned to like it, though. Especially when he would spend hours upon hours carefully carving a design onto my back. Did I like it because of the pain? Probably not. It was because he was focused entirely upon me while he was doing it, for hours on end; he was focused completely on me. It's a heady feeling. I thought people were focused on me before, but really while most of their attention may have been on me, they were thinking in the back of their mind about something else. Everyone does it, talking to someone and making a mental list of the things you need at the grocery store, making love and splitting your attention between your partner and what your partner is making you feel. It's human nature. In those times, however, I found out what it's like to have someone completely focused on me. Not just someone, either, it was Kash, the person I love beyond all else. To say it quickly became a need for me as well as him is an understatement.

How am I supposed to do this? I don't understand. Kash is...was...my world, my everything. I suddenly remember the closest Kash ever came to telling me he loved me. I was in our bed, not sleeping, just waiting for Kash to come home. He had been out of town at an Indy show, and I had been at a different one. I had missed him so much and I was hoping that he had missed me, just a little. He got home and stalked into the bedroom where I was waiting for him, his clothes making a trail from the front door to our bed, and climbed into the bed. One second I was watching him walk to the bed, the next I was on my stomach and he was inside me. As I lay there, howling in pain and near delirious joy because he evidently had missed me, or at least missed my body, he growled into my ear that I was never allowed to be away from him again.

Then why did he fucking leave me?

"Why did you leave me? Why did you fucking leave me? How can I be with you if you leave me?" I scream, sobbing, my eyes closed as I slump fully to the floor. My body shivers and shakes as gut-wrenching shudders make their way through me. My hand lands on a piece of glass from the broken beer bottle, and I know suddenly, with crystal clarity what it is I have to do. I know how I can always be with him.

My fingers close on the shard and I bring it to my wrist, my eyes still closed. Behind my closed lids I see Kash with his dagger as my flesh tears to the glass. The pain isn't so bad because it's him doing it to me. Him hurting me once again, and I can breathe. The sobs lessen as the pain grows worse, my fingers loose on the glass as I switch hands to cut the other wrist. The searing pain is almost orgasmic as the flesh of that side gives way, as well. The deep cut on that arm not going as high before the shard falls free from my fumbling fingers. I hope it's enough. It should be, it might just take a little longer. I wish I had the strength to get up and go put my arms under some hot running water. I remember reading somewhere that makes you bleed out faster. I don't have the strength to do much more than sit here and finally open my eyes to watch the blood flow down over my hands as it exits my body, however.

"How can you be with me if you're dead?" I hear his voice ask me. It's soft, confused sounding. Almost like it always was when he would curl up in my arms after brutally taking me. Such an enigma, Kash is. How he would break me, then curl up against me like a child seeking shelter from his own rage and hatred. My eyes lift from where they were watching the blood escape me and I see him standing there, looking down at me quizzically.

Is he really there, or is it an apparition? A dream of what I want, or the reality. I can't tell anymore. "How can I be with you when you leave me?" I whisper to him.

"How can you be with me at all?" He asks, shaking his head, his long blonde hair falling forward to cover his face.

"I love you." I whisper to him, softly, my head beginning to spin from all the alcohol and blood loss.

"I can't be without you, Dal. I tried, but I just can't." He says, his voice just as soft as mine was, the confusion is no longer sounding as loudly as it was. I feel him touching me, his hands closing on my wrists, as though to staunch the flow of blood and it hits me, he really is here. After almost a year, he really is here. My eyes close wearily in relief as I hear him calling for an ambulance on his cell.

End.