A/N- Hey, this is a story like 'Adam' but I don't know how much. I just majorly crashed on my bike outside and I scorched my left hand, my right arm, and my right knee. It hurts really bad and it's hard to type, I'm sorry. I hope this gets posted by tonight but my hand is raw and it hurts to move it.

Speaking of Raw. My cousin, monday night raw, posted her very first story. I helped her with it and it's only a beginning, but it's cool. Check it out. I hope that all of my Adam reviewers read this one as well.

For: Leslie and Courtney CJ.

Title: Why Me?


Shannon Moore stood at ringside, watching the 2003 Royal Rumble. His "leader" so to speak, had been thrown into the turnbuckle by either Rosey, Jamal or Rikishi (he could never tell Rosey and Jamal apart) and he knew that Rikishi was going to go for the deadly 'Rikishi Stink Face'. He couldn't just let that happen, so he once again, slid himself into the ring. He stood a few feet in front of Matt and held out his arms in front of himself as a shield, shaking them furiously.

"No! No no no no no! Don't youch him. Don't. You'll have to go through me! Don't touch him!"

Rosey, he was pretty sure it was, laughed a bit.

"I'll go STRAIGHT through you, scrawny-boy (mnr addition. She hates it when people call him that so to make her angry, she added it!)"

Rosey picked up Shannon easily, tossing him onto his shoulder. Shannon kicked his feet and pounded his fist into Rosey's back, but it did no good. Rosey threw Shonnon like a ragdoll into Matt. They collided together and crashed into the turnbuckle, falling forwards again. Another hit into Shannon and they crashed into the turn again. Matt wrapped his arm around Shannon's waist as they sat harshly onto the ground in the ring. Shannon was breathing shallowly and quickly, kind of struggling and he hung his head. His chest was rising and falling quickly.

"Shannon, are you alright?"

Shannon nodded and didn't say anything.

"You didn't have to do that, I cando this myself."

Shannon nodded again.

"Now you're hurt. Come on, back to ringside."

Shannon crawled over and a referee helped him to his feet. Shit, that hurt. Shannon interfered a few more times, causing more pain mostly to himself. Finally, Matt was eliminated when Brock Lesnar got in.

Co-written by monday night raw


"Shannon, are you okay?" Matt asked, stepping out of the shower room and toweling his hair.

Shannon stood in the bathroom with the door open and the light on. A mirror sat above the sink and Shannon stood on the fronts of his feet, in a pair of jeans, looking into the mirror and at his abdomen.

"Shit." he said to himslef.

Matt came up behind him to get a look. "Lemme see."

Shannon pulled the hem of his jeans down to his hips. Dark blue and purple bruises were forming on either side of his body from where he had been swantoned, chokeslammed, tossed, and collided with.

"Ow, Maybe you should have yourself checked out."

"Nah, I'm good. It's not like I've never bruised before."

"You know, you really did have to run in and interfere so many times."

"I wanted you to win." Shannon shrugged, inching a bit away from Matt as if he didn't want him to touch him, "You would have been pulverized if it weren't for me."

"Ah, excuse me, I believe that a Swanton hurts more when two people are hitting you."

""I took all of the force. You haved nothing to complain about."

"You're boney ass was digging into my abdomen."

"Oh please." Shannon scaffed.

"What can I say?" Matt laughed, ruffling Shannon's wet blonde hair.

"Quit it, Matt, you know I hate it when you do that."

Shannon hit Matt's hand away and quickly set to fixing his hair.

"You have no sense of humour, Shannon."

"Excuse me?" Shannon said harshly.

"You have no humour."

"Yes I do."

"You haven't had humour since Three Count, Scrawn."

"Shut up, Matt."

Shannon sunk to a bench in the main room and proceeded to pack his bag. Matt sat next to him, taking note that he was avoiding eye contact with him.

"I hit a nerve."

"No shit?"


"Why what?"

"Why are you angry. Look, I'm sorry that I called you scrawny."

"I'm not mad."

"Yes you are."

"What makes you say that?" Shannon asked, busying himself with his boots.

"You're avoiding eye contact...."

"Staring is impolite."

"....And you just put hair dye on your shoe."

"It makes them shiney"

"Come on, Shannon, tell me what's wrong." Matt said, moving Shannon's head up so his eyes peered into his for a split second.

"It's stupid, really. I don't know why I'm even upset."

"It's alright."

"It's just that... when I was in Three Count, I was in the spotlight. The Centre of Attention. But now I'm a cunt," Shannon said, his angre rising in his voice, "I'm your bitch. Now everyone knows me as "the little MFer' or 'that guy who hangs out with Matt Hardy' Or some stuff like that."

"No they don't."

"Yes they do!" Shannon said, bolting up, "Everywhere I go, everywhere! They are all "Hey, you're Matt Hardy's follower" No, "Hey, you're Shannon Moore, the guy from Three Count?" None, Never! I'm fucking sick of it!"

Matt was speechless, so Shannon went on,

"Where the Fuck is Shannitude, Matt? Why the hell don't you come to ringside at my matches? I go to all of yours. Every single fucking match! I help you, I put my life on the line every time I go out there with you. I'm used as a shield, a fucking set of stairs, a distraction, but what do I get? The wind knocked out of me? A slap to the head? A low blow?"

"Shannon, I-"

"You what?" Shannon snapped.

"I-never mind. Get your angre out."

"My angre? This is past angre Matt. I'm sick of being picked on all of the time for being smaller; I know I am, I don't need your somments. I'm sick of not being noticed; I'm sick of being your lackey; I'm sick of not having your support; I'm sick of not having FAN support; I hate walking out to a crowd full of boos. And it's all because of you. If I didn't have to follow you and practically kiss the ground you walk on, I might have support. I'm sick of being your bitch, Matt!"

After the last word was spoken, Shannon threw himself across the room and slammed himself into the wall. He sunk to the floor, sitting on his feet, and putting his head in his hands. Matt couldn't tell if he was crying or just sitting like that in angre, but he took his chance and walked over.

"Shann, I--" he whispered, placing a hand on his friends shoulder, "I-"

"God, I'm so fucking stupid!" Shannon shrieked.

Matt jumped, but remained at Shannon's side; he was obviously bothered by this. "No you aren't-"

"No!" Shannon shrieked again, "I hate this! I hate myself! Why do I keep doing this? I've gotta keep my stupid mouth shut! I ahte this, I hate hurting you, I hate saying stupid things. Why am I having these stupid mood swings? What the hell is wrong with me???"

Shannon started to tear at his arms, chest and neckleaving deep scratches and a bit of blood.

"Shannon! Shannon, quit it! Shannon quit!"

Matt lifted Shannon to his feet, but Shannon just pushed him away and started hitting his arms and scratching at them, then dragging his hands all over as if he was trying to get something off.

"God, I-- I feel so fucking dirty! Like.. like there's some disqusting thing all over my skin and it... I gotta get it off."

"Shannon, Shannon, please! Calm down, calm down, Shannon, please, calm down!" Matt called scared, as Shannon dashed into the shower, tearing off his pants but leaving his boxers.

He turned only on the hot water and stood under it once the steam started, not caring that when the water hit his skin, it scalded it pink. He greedily took the bodywash and started to scrub roughly at his body.

"Shannon, Shannon, stop. You're gonna hurt yourself. Please, Shann, you're starting to scare me. Please, stop." Matt said, reaching in to turn off the water.

But, he quickly gasped and retreated it since the water was so hot. He braved himself and reached in, turning off the water as fast as he could. Shannon fell into the back of the tub like the water had been holding him up, then he started to cry. Okay, something was seriously wrong here. People don't just snap from emotion to emotion like that. Then Matt saw something that made him feel sick.

There were bruises shaped like fingers on Shannon's thigh, deep nail cuts it looked like, torn skin and dried blood on the inside of his thighs.

"Shannon," he managed to choke, "Shannon, look at me."

Shannon slowly turned to face Matt, his eyes were red and puffy from tears, "He didn't mean to hurt me."

"What?! Shannon, who?"

"Nothing happened, I'm fine."

"Shannon, who hurt you? It wasn't Jeff was it?"

"No one did anything. Besides, me and Jeff broke up a while ago, we're good friends, he wouldn't do anything." Shannon said, huddling farther away from AMatt and covering the marks.

"Shannon, I already saw. Tell me what happened so I can help you."

Though he had lowered his voice and softened it, Matt who was shaking and scared on the inside. A million 'worse-case-scenarios' dashing through his head, especially when Shannon's eyes began to brim with tears and he turned away, not saying anything.

"Alright then, we'll start easier: when?"

"It's..it's been for about a week now." he replied softly.

There was a sick ball forming in his gut that twisted when Matt heard Shannon say that.

"Shannon, look at me, please. Please, look at me. Shannon, have you been raped?"

When Shannon quickly turned away, Matt immediately got his answer.