Ten Tonne Skeleton (Dean Ambrose Fanfic)

Breaking the streak - Part 3

Another chapter! Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. Chapter four should be up tomorrow. This part is triggering!

Friday was another live house show. Dean had a small match at the start of the show where he teamed up with Roman to fight against Wade Barrett and Rusev. Half way through the match Dean started to feel light headed and ended up messing up one of his moves, causing Rusev to pin him and win the match. Roman wasn't impressed to say the least.

"Dude, that's the second time this week that you messed up your moves!" Roman shouted, frustrated at Ambrose for not doing what he was told.

"Look I'm sorry, but it's not my fault I blacked out alright? I'm kinda sick at the moment." Dean argued.

"Well if your sick then you shouldn't be here!" Reigns pushed Dean into the closest wall and walked away, leaving Ambrose in a dangerous state.

Seth had overheard the argument between the two men and knew that it had upset Dean a lot more than it should have. The poor man was in a delicate state right now. He decided to find Roman and have a talk with him.

"Hey Rome, can I have a word?" Seth asked, peeping through the locker room door.

"Yeah sure." The Samoan followed Seth to the back parking lot. "What's up man?" He asked as they both leant against the wall of the building.

"I overheard the argument that you and Dean had earlier and I was just hoping that you could lay off him a bit, I mean the poor dude's sick and he's fragile at the moment." Seth said trying to persuade Roman.

"Well, like I said, he shouldn't be here if he's sick." Roman replied moodily.

"Oh come on, you should know more than anyone else that the WWE doesn't let you take a few days off for a stomach bug and to be honest I think it's something deeper than that." The two toned man looked towards the ground sadly.

"What do you mean?" Roman asked.

"I don't know but I don't think he's just sick. I think there's something else bothering him but he won't tell me what. I just want him to be okay so I was hoping you could not argue with him and maybe the two of you could apologies to each other?"

Roman sighed. "Sure, do you know where he is?"

"Not a clue." The two men headed back to the locker room to see that Dean's stuff had gone. Realizing that Dean was already back at the hotel they decided to make their way there.

__________

Dean felt nothing but anger. How dare Roman blame him for ruining the match. Okay, so maybe he messed one of his moves up but Roman always messes up. It wasn't Dean's fault that he was sick. Or was he sick? He had gotten so use to using that excuse that he actually believed it himself.

Millions of thoughts raced through the angered man's head. He was so confused as to what he was doing to himself. Why was he doing this to himself? He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve the physical and emotional torture he was putting himself through. He could eat if he wanted to.

He could eat if he wanted to.

That one sentence circled around his mind for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only seconds. His worn out feet carried him to the kitchen of his hotel room. It was almost as if his body was in a trance. His arms moved up towards the food cupboard and his still taped up hand grabbed a hold of the handle. The world around him was a blur. The only thing he could see as he opened the wooden cupboard was the large multi pack bag of crisps and a carton of unopened custard. 

He didn't remember anything apart from the constant routine of chew, swallow, chew, swallow. It felt like he had only just opened the cupboards but somehow he managed to eat five bags of crisps and the whole carton of custard.