The Undertaker's Apprentice

Chapter 5 - After The Fall

Lexie had stormed off back towards medical, not really sure where she was going, before walking headlong back in to CM Punk.

"Where did you go?" he asked. "I told you to wait a moment, and you vanished." He wasn't impressed with her suddenly ditching him.

"I needed to breathe, to think," she lied. Part of her felt bad about lying, but telling him she'd had another run in with Taker wasn't a good idea, she thought. Punk was already fuming that Undertaker had gone ahead with the match, and had ripped her to shreds. She was fuming too, truth be told. But there was little she, or anyone could do at that moment in time.

"Well, I think you need to get your ass in the medical bay, and get checked over properly. Come on." He replied, walking her back towards the room. He then watched as she was assessed, injuries checked, a strong painkiller prescribed by Doc Amann, and told to take it easy, and she should feel much better in the morning. She would require an assessment before her next fight at Smackdown to make sure she was fit to compete, but other than that, the Doc had no immediate concerns about her health. CM Punk then with reassurances she would be ok, and it wouldn't be long till they realized she and Taker weren't meant to work together, took her back to the hotel.

However, when she awoke the following morning, Lexie felt awful. The pain her body was experiencing, however, was dwarfed by the pain in her mind. What kind of idiotic idea was it to go one on one with him? She asked herself. Surely you could have found other means of escaping his tutelage? She took a sharp breath and forced herself to sit, and looked at herself in the mirror at the end of the hotel bed. Bruises and welts everywhere, she looked like she'd been hit with a truck. Yet she couldn't help thinking he'd held back, that this wasn't everything he could do. She'd seen guys decimated by him before now, and knew whatever he'd inflicted on her last night, it was nothing compared to the others. "You really are stupid," she told herself. Then she remembered afterwards how she'd hidden in the corridor to try lick her wounds in peace. How she'd grabbed the nearest object when he came closer, and how she'd been seconds from hitting him about the head with the pole. A sneaky smile crept across her face. Perhaps...perhaps she could get herself fired? If she admitted it to Triple H...he would have to let her go. They wouldn't want a law suit, not against their biggest star, it would be easier to just let her go, and pretend the incident never happened. She got dressed as carefully as she could, thinking about how to play this card. Finally, she made the phone call to Hunter, asking to speak to him.

Undertaker had been out of bed for merely an hour. His conscience was heavy, he'd just kicked the crap out of a woman. He was a dark individual, there was no denying that. He'd done things to make a grown man cry, and he'd made grown men cry or bleed for many a year. But there were lengths even he wouldn't stoop to. As he leant over the washbasin, he splashed cold water over his face, before looking up. Except, he didn't see his own face in the mirror. He saw hers as he'd held up her arm. The bruises, the welts as they began to appear. He saw the disgusted look Paige had given him once again, the horrified looks other stars and staff had given him as they passed him after the match. And then, he saw in his mind's eye, the fury in the eyes of the woman he'd hurt. The anger, and the pain she refused to show. What dark path had they started the pair of them down? He would have to speak to Hunter, perhaps there was a way of making this good...somehow. There had to be. The voice of ill reason spoke up yet again as he stood there, looking at himself in the mirror. You? You can't make this right, you fool. You took the girl up at her own game, and you beat her. She won't say it, but she's a broken woman. Now you make her in to the wrestler Vince wants to see. You said whatever it took, you would do it, and do it your way. He scowled at the water as it ran down the sink, and then looked over at the bedside table as the phone rang. He left the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel, and picked up the phone. It was Hunter.