There is no way that this is happening between us. No matter how I try, I cannot make myself look away. My eyes stay fixed to that small reflected image of John..of Layfield..in the mirror, pacing like a confined man behind me. This distance, his avoidance is so intense that he cannot bring himself to look at me. He stays focused on the room itself, on anything he can to avoid making eye contact with me, but I still keep looking, taking in every detail.
I can't believe how I feel when I look at him.

The only time I can shut my eyes is when he comes in close, like he is now. I dread these conversations that we seem to be having every week. I cut him off, and try to provoke him, but he just stays focused on the mirror, still trying to avoid this situation. I cannot find it in my heart to blame him. I have failed us both.

Until last night, everything in this "offer" had been exactly how John had laid it out to me. I knew my goals, the tasks I had to perform, and John had not failed in his promise to pay me. All I had left to do was this one more thing, to make certain that he won that night at the Rumble and it would all be over. My family's future would be saved and I would be free.

I was thinking about that future, those days following the Rumble that night when John came in. I was trying to reduce this whole thing down to just a few hours in my mind, a few short hours left with...that's when it all began to hit me.
I stood before the mirror, watching John undress, trying to block out these unholy, wrong feelings, trying to make my eyes close instead of looking.

Only a few more hours. If I could just resist that long, I would be home and safe and secure again, and John would be.
I felt the tears coming as John stretched, my eyes refusing to stop as I took in everything that was there on display. I was so ashamed of the way I was feeling, of the sweet warmth and pleasure I felt in my heart when I saw him.

I don't know what made me walk over to the lockers. The next thing I knew, my hands were on his back. I tried to convince myself and him that this was just a massage, I tried to concentrate on the familiar pattern of stroke and pressure that the trainer usually did to me. He felt so smooth, so warm and so good and finally my eyes did close from the pleasure and sheer joy I felt when I touched him.

I knew it was wrong, but I could not stop. I kept leaning inwards until my chest was pressed against his back, I kept waiting for him to push me away, but he leaned in closer, until my lips were against the back of his neck. Involuntarily,
my arms slipped around his waist.

I know I was the one who tipped back his head, but his mouth opened for my kiss. My world went white to nothing but joy then came crashing down to hell with one knock on the locker room door. From that moment this awkwardness descended. From that moment John has yet to look me in the eye again.

Later than night, he abruptly informed me that if he won, he would put me in the Rumble and we would fight at Wrestlemania. I think he just wants to hurt me and I wish he would. Anything than another moment of this. I kicked him that night because I hurt so bad, because in my heart, I know that I cannot stand to loose him.

I want this "thing" to go on, but John doesn't. Even though his body reacted to my touch, I can practically feel his disgust in this room right now, in the way he won't even look at me. He knows now that I am in love with him. I know he doesn't love me.