This one's a bit longer. To make up for the last one! And about this one. I just want to express, that I'm not trying to offend anyone with what I write. I write because it's my passion. Not to shoot on people or any type of group. Sometimes, I can be a bit raciest, but it's purely entertainment based. So with the next few chapters, please, try to understand that, I know some people go through these things, but I'm writing a fucking story. Not a gospel. I know, I can't possibly grasp what people go through, and I'm going off of what I can find on the internet and TV and other shit. Thus the 'have fun' portion of my ANs. So.
HAVE SOME FUCKING FUN WITH THIS CHAPTER.
REVIEW THE SHIT OUT OF IT!
With some ridiculously creepy love,
Skee.
ps. I worked really hard on this fucking chapter. So every fucking person better fucking review. I don't care if it's just, "great job!" or "fucking stupid". DO IT DAMMIT! GAH!
Looovvee yyoouu. ;)
Watching that fight stirred up some feelings I'd been trying to repress for the past month.
And I didn't sleep much that night.
All I could think about was Punk.
And how drastic of a turn our relationship had taken.
And how alone I felt.
And suddenly, I yearned for a drink.
I ached for it.
I threw the covers of the guest bedroom at my mentors house, and silently searched the house.
Not a lick of booze anywhere.
I grumbled to myself quietly as I slipped on my shoes and jacket after changing my clothes.
The only way for me to get a drink now was to walk.
And it as at least ten miles away.
I popped the hood of the sweatshirt still residing under my jacket, over my head.
Conveniently hiding my eyes too.
And shoved my hands into the jeans pockets I'd pulled on before leaving.
I walked the ten miles to civilization.
–
God.
The feel of whiskey felt so good on my lips.
Especially after a fucking ten mile trek.
Eleven if you count all the walking it took to actually find a bar that wasn't uber sketchy.
So when I finally got a taste of sweet victory, whiskey, I couldn't help but have another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
And soon enough, I was out on the street bumbling around, not knowing where the hell I was at, or where I was going.
At this point, I could barely stand.
And actually had no idea when I'd left the bar, or bought the bottle of 90 proof whiskey, or with what money.
I took a swig of the sauce, it burning down my throat; a sensation I'd always loved.
I could barely stand up straight and had to lean on the brick building I was slowly, very slowly, advancing by to get down the sidewalk.
And suddenly, I felt nauseous.
And not like sick-to-your-stomach nauseous.
It was holy-shit-I'm-going-to-die-I'm-that-sick nauseous.
In my state, which severely lacked inhibitions, I sat down on the dry Texas asphalt taking another gulp of party-juice.
I placed the bottle on the ground between my extended legs, and my hands rested on my lap.
Which was wet.
At that point, I had no idea why my pants were wet, or wet with.
And I didn't really care.
I shrugged it off and downed another mouthful of the sauce.
The nausea from before got worse.
And suddenly, I turned to the side, and unloaded all the alcohol I'd ingested the last month, on the sidewalk.
Not once.
But two.
Three.
Four times until I couldn't see straight or even see at all for that matter.
All I wanted to do now was sleep.
For a very long time.
My arm I'd been leaning on for support, collapsed beneath me and I went face first into the sidewalk coated in up chuck.
And everything went black.
–
I dipped in and out a little after that.
I saw snippets of images that didn't make much sense to me.
First, a blaring blue lights and a shadow approaching me.
Next was a crowd of people, and everything was white.
Then darkness again.
I opened my eyes.
It took a few moments to adjust to the darkness.
There was something in the distance I couldn't quite focus on.
I took a step closer, deeper into the darkness.
But still nothing but a blur.
Then, movement from the corner of my eye.
Quickly I snapped into attack mode, but there was nothing.
My pulse kicked up, and I heard a voice echo in the space.
"Eli! I said no more cookies before dinner!"
It'd been over a decade since I'd heard that voice.
Then, the distant figure came so much more, vividly clear.
Suddenly, I remembered this moment.
"Mom?" my eyes were wide, and my voice hitched in my throat.
The memory played in front of me like a movie, each frame perfectly intact.
"I remember hearing your father say one, not six."
Finally, her face came into view.
It exactly how I remembered.
The first thing anyone would notice about her were those piercing jade green eyes she later passed on to my baby sister.
Even with her back turned, she could always tell what I was doing.
As she bent down to get at my four-year-old level, her long blonde hair fell into her face.
She raised both of her perfectly shaped blonde brows, and extended her hand.
"Give them over."
Reluctantly, I could feel my childhood arm extend and place five, still warm, chocolate chip cookies in her hand.
"Hey mom, can I have a cookie?" I watched her as she turned her attention to her son, age fourteen, who was only asking to taunt me.
Her jade eyes turned back to me, and showed amusement.
Probably at the epic scowl I was sporting, even for a four-year-old.
"Marcus, leave your sister alone. She's just too damn cute to pick on!"
Another voice I hadn't heard in nearly twelve years chimed in the blackness.
My childish head turned up and stared at a dirty blond haired man, his lips curved into a joking smirk.
"Dad?" my adult voice rang out.
Again, my pulse picked up.
Keeping a consistent, rapid beat.
"Roger. She's five. Not fifteen."
I glanced back at my mother, who was shooting him chastising glares.
"On Care, it's fine. It's not like she'll repeat me. Right sweetie?"
I couldn't help smile as his hands reached down and lifted me to his chest.
My adult eyes burned.
I could feel the warmth of my fathers embrace, the one that always melted away my icy moods.
The room swirled and I was dropped into the basement of my house.
Sitting on the blue mats, with a doll baby in my hand.
"Ewi. Can you pwease pway dowies with me?"
I turned my vision from the doll in my hand, to the three year old, cute as a button, baby sister I had sitting next to me.
"I'm no good at fightin' games." she mumbled and pushed out her bottom lip.
I released an obnoxious groan.
Even at nine I was an ass.
I looked back at the gentle jade green eyes of my beloved sister, them shinning with excitement, and her gaped teeth forming a goofy smile.
Suddenly, the world shifted again.
I was sitting front row, ring side, at my first professional wrestling event.
Or, more importantly, WWF Monday Night Raw.
I watched in awe as Bull Nakano wrecked house with Alandra Blayze's face.
And at that moment, I reached a pivotal moment in my life.
I turned and tugged on my dads shirt.
"Daddy!" I yelled over the angry screaming crowd.
Usual reaction Bull got those days.
"Daddy!" I yelled again.
Finally, his hazel eyes turned to my wide eyed green ones.
"What honey?"
After seeing my face, his first snappy expression turned to the fatherly one I'd always known.
"I want to do this." I stated, pointing to the ring we sat only feet from.
"You want to learn to wrestle?" he asked, torn between watching the match and listening to his daughter speak.
"No, I want to do this!" I moved my pointed finger all around.
Trying to convey to him I didn't just want to wrestle.
I wanted to be in the WWF.
His answering smirk was all I needed to know he was on board.
"You know what sweetheart, I think daddy can help with that..."
The vision of my father blurred and an image of Randy appeared. And not just any Randy. It was the Randy I'd fallen in love with all those years ago.
"Hey, I'm Randy. You look new."
I tried to keep my wide eyed expression to myself, but by the growing smirk on his face, I could tell it wasn't working.
At this point in time, I'd never really talked casually with a guy before.
Let alone see the the burn in his eyes.
I stammered out my name, taking his extended hand and shaking it.
He was about to say something when a trio of fellow developmental wrestlers passed by.
"God, Eli. What's that? It's disgusting!"
The leading douche bag said sarcastically.
Ripping the towel from it's tossed position on my shoulder.
Before I could muster any type of comeback, Randy was on it.
"Shut up ass-face. No one likes you. Go away."
I cracked a smiled, for the first time since I moved to Kentucky, at his words.
As the threesome moved along, embarrassed, Randy turned back to me.
Quickly, I smothered the smile and was right back to stone-face.
"Don't worry about them. Everyone's got baggage." he smiled a genuine, toothy grin, and stepped past me.
"Oh, I'll be in town for a few more days. Come find me before I leave!" he called.
And at that moment, I had no idea if, or how, I would go about finding him.
But I sure as hell did.
And as I watched Randy walk backwards away from me, it shifted to Punk walking towards me.
This was my first time meeting the infamous CM Punk.
It was actually my first day on Smackdown too.
I was scheduled to make my debut in a few weeks, and Teddy Long wanted me to learn the ropes first.
And who else to teach me than the Smackdown veteran himself?
His raven colored hair cascaded around his face in a way I could only dream about.
The instant he saw me, he flashed me a huge smile.
I doubt it disappeared the entire night.
And as I watched him brush black those black tresses with a taped up hand, the tape disappeared and his dark locks lightened, trimming to his brows.
"So what do we do now?" he mumbled against my neck.
His rough beard was like fire against my skin, as we lied underneath the blankets of his hotel room bed.
Absolutely naked.
My eyes were closed as I contemplated an answer.
"I don't know, maybe make this an exclusive deal?"
After the years of abuse and wear and tear with Randy, my confidence grew and I had no problem telling him exactly what I wanted.
His head popped up, and while watching my own expression, his morphed into that childish grin I would always love.
As I watched this moment back, it probably one of the best I'd ever had, I couldn't control what was happening to my heart.
Beating so fast, I couldn't breathe.
I collapsed to my knees, pushing against the ground like it would somehow relieve the pressure.
It felt like my chest was going to explode.
I cried out in pain, but the empty space around me just echoed it back to me.
I clutched at my heart, feeling it pound against my hand.
Then suddenly, nothing.
Nothing at all.
No explosion, no pain, no nothing.
The darkness started to fade.
But was only replaced by a blinding light.
And the brighter it got, the more terrified I became.
And the memories I'd just been sifting through, sped by in a flash.
Soon, they turned to blurred images of things I'd never experienced before.
A woman in white, with a man in black across from her.
A twosome cuddled on the couch with a tiny bundle in their arms.
And as they went on, the final image was of an old couple, sitting in some rocking chairs, watching their grandchildren reek havoc.
With their fingers intertwined the whole time.
And as I looked the image, I caught a quick glimpse of the man's hand.
A small, black butterfly rested just below his thumb.
And then I knew what these were.
They were images of the life I'd never get to experience.
Because I was dying.
The light turned brighter, I couldn't even keep my eyes open.
"Please no. I don't want to go yet." I whispered through the utter pain in my chest, curled up on the ground.
The light started to protrude under my lids.
Then it stopped, and started to disappear.
I felt a different pressure on my chest, then a sharp pain.
I yelped at the suddenness and pulled back my collar to see two puckering pink spots on my chest.
