Dear Dean

prologue

Imagine being depressed your whole life. You don't show it but you are. If you told anyone they wouldn't believe you because all you do is smile. That's how my life went. I was sixteen when my twin brother passed along with my mother and father. It was only me and my older sister Jade. She was twenty one when it happened. She took me under her wing. She gave me life. She kept my safe. The only thing she could never keep me from was depression. Here I am five years later working with WWE as their seamstress. Seems easy, right? Not for me. Working with all these sharp needles makes me want to harm myself even more. I tried to stop when I was eighteen, but I couldn't. The scars on my wrist made me the person I am today, a depressed twenty one year old who harms herself and is addicted to drugs.

A few years back Jade tried to put me in one of those 'support groups' but it got me no where. Spending two hours of my Friday in a room with a group full of people from the age of sixteen who were depressed, sick, addicted to drugs and alcohol. It was safe to say that helped me in no way. Three years ago Jade contacted my mothers old best friend, Stephanie McMahon, who told us at their funeral that if we ever needed anything to contact her, about a job for me. I've always found comfort in making clothes and costumes for people and according to Jade, I'm pretty good at it. After about sixty phone calls, ninety costumes for WrestleMania and three years here I am head seamstress for WWE.

The only people who know about my depression and self harm -except for Jade- are Stephanie and her husband Triple H or as I call him Hunter. Ever since my first day they both have been there for me. No superstar or diva know's about my how do you say 'problem', and I planned to keep it that way. That was until the 18th of November 2012. That was until the day Dean Ambrose had appeared in my life. Until the day that I lost my mind.