Wow, it's been a while...:/ Heheheh, anyway, welcome to another chapter of What She Left Behind. The story is based loosely off of Jay Asher's book Thirteen Reasons Why. I only own my character Abigail. Please read, review, and enjoy. I also apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors.

Love, Kiwi


"It's strange, isn't it?" Phil looked up from lacing his boots, surveying the larger man across from him. The man had just put on his hat and was throwing a sleek, black leather jacket over his shoulders.

"I don't know what you're taking about," Phil replied quietly, the strain barely recognizable. He ran a hand over his head, still not used to the lack of hair to run his fingers through. Briefly, he heard a laugh; felt the relaxing feeling of someone running a hand through his hair. His eyes fell shut and his mind wandered. Arms draped over his shoulders and a light kiss found itself on his cheek. Golden bronze hair tickled the nape of his neck and a flurry of whispers fell onto his ears, saying something to bring a grin onto his face.

He turned his head and opened his eyes, hoping to greet the woman with a kiss.

There was no one there.

"Abigail," he whispered, trying to ignore the unease that had settled in his stomach.

"Exactly," Luke stated, gesturing towards Phil. He saw the hesitance in his eyes, the fleeting worry and forlornness. "Are you okay? Have you been listening to me?"

"Huh?" Phil's attention snapped back to his tag team partner and he shook his head, trying to brush his memory off. "Yeah." He nodded. "Of course."

Luke looked unconvinced, but shrugged. "Sure. Are you okay?" He repeated.

"Yes."

"She was your ex-girlfriend, there's no way you're okay," Luke said. "She died after Fatal Four-Way,"

"I know." Phil's voice was dry, wrung of any emotion. A choking feeling constricted his throat and his teeth were clenched. June twenty-first ran on replay in his mind. He remembered the meeting, the moment when Vince told them all that Abigail had taken her own life. The moment where he realized he had really lost her, the exclamation point to the end of his mistake.

"There wasn't anything we could do."

At this point, Phil was losing his patience. Luke's voice droned on and he wanted silence. He needed a quiet, undisturbed peace to work out his inner demons. The guilt that had been planted in him a month beforehand had blossomed.

"It's not your fault."

He didn't want to talk about this, about who was to blame and who wasn't. Regardless of what anyone told him, he'd hold a self-hatred in his heart. Guilt would always be in his conscience, teasing him relentlessly. He could repeat the mantra over and over again, but it would never fully sink in and he would never believe his innocence. Abigail was in the subject now, and he couldn't stray from it without alerting Luke. Hastily, he cleared his throat. "What's strange?"

"She's dead."

"How is that strange?"

"What I mean is, we won't see her any more. I find it odd that she took so long to do it."

"That's sick, Luke." Phil frowned, disturbed.

"She got into a fight with Hardy, you two broke up," he listed, "you would've expected her to get that upset around there. But no, a month passes by. Her world got swept out from under her, but no one comes to save her. She was so sweet too, it's odd. She didn't even seem the type to kill herself."

"There isn't such thing as a 'type'." Anger, a heated flare burned within him. "And her name was... her name is Abigail. If you're going to talk about her, just use her name." He heard a laugh, her laugh echo in his mind and he shook his head. Phil's eyebrows knit together and he felt the tremors of a headache coming on. Standing, he straightened his shirt. "I need to go," he said, grabbing his duffel bag as he headed towards the door. "I'll see you later, Luke." Phil avoided Luke's gaze and didn't wait for a response as he left the locker room.

His eyes wandered down the hall, the same hall found in every arena. He could remember her, fingers intertwined with his as they walked. She'd lean up and kiss his cheek unexpectedly, and he'd grin down at her. It was a silly thing, he realized, the kind of thing you'd see between two teenagers completely head over heels for each other.

Phil moved down the hall, barely avoiding running into Ted. Ted scowled, pausing for a moment. "Watch it, Punk." An envelope was tucked under his arm and there was a slight sense of urgency in his voice, in the way he moved. His own eyes flickered to the envelope, the plain brown decorated with Ted's name. He recognized the handwriting, vaguely, but it was somewhere in the back of his mind.

Moments had passed and Phil shook his head. "Sorry," he mumbled and he watched Ted walk away. Three words, none of them a condolence. Nobody had really talked to him about Abigail, no one asked how he was doing, or if he needed someone to talk to. And he wasn't surprised. Most probably blamed him, and he felt they were right for doing so. He continued down the hall, not paying much attention to where he was going, or who was in his way. Coming to another door, his hand traced the handle, the cool metal stinging his hot hands. The choking feeling rose in his throat and he pushed the door open, ducking in and shutting the door behind him.

The darkness swallowed him, but it didn't push her down. He could still feel her, sitting next to him, her arm linked with his. Her head rested against his shoulder and they sat in silence. There was no need for words, there never was. He didn't turn on the light. In the dark, he could feel her and imagine her beside him, still alive. With the lights came reality. Reality left her broken-hearted and dead, and left him cold and alive.

Phil's breath quickened and he slapped at his arm with his opposite hand. He felt the burn on his flesh and he looked up. She wasn't beside him; it was all in his head. He ran his hand over his face and head, his mind reeling as his other hand reached into his pocket. He drew out his phone, hitting a random button and used the screen as a flashlight. Slowly, he unzipped his duffel bag and removed his laptop, and an envelope. His name, scrawled neatly across the center, sent a shudder through him. It was something he had seen before, her handwriting.

"What could she have left for me," he whispered, "when I left her with nothing?" Gently, he tore open the envelope, slipping the letter out of it. His thumb tapped his screen, illuminating a third of the room with light. He unfolded the letter, and let his fingers curl around the paper. One hand was slightly raised, letting the light made by the phone cast down on the paper.

Dear Phil,

Phil, my dearest Phil. How did it come to this? We were perfect, so perfect and we still fell apart. I loved you so much, Phil, and it pained me to have to do this. But what you did pushed me. If I had found out any other time, it might not have been so bad. I just have horrible timing sometimes.

I'm keeping this brief, anything else I have to say is in the DVD. There are so many things I want to say to you, but I don't think I can find the words. What can I say to you? You built me up, stayed by my side and made me feel like I belonged. Then, you tore it all away. Ten people received letters just like this. One is a messenger, the common factor between the other nine, including you. Two of those nine were saviors, the other seven played a role in my death. So, please Phil, watch the video. Do this one last thing for me.

Phil swallowed hard and blinked, his eyes having adjusted to the lack of light. He set the letter down in his lap and reached to the side. His fingers grazed the grimy carpet until they found the envelope. Deep inside his chest he could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. He shut his eyes, trying to calm his breathing, ease his mind. Reaching into the envelope, he drew out the CD case. With his other hand, he turned on the laptop.

He had no earthly idea why she would send him something like this. Her words flashed in his mind. Two were saviors...seven were corruption, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he belonged to the latter. He had made a mistake, and that mistake carried him to this point. In the back of his mind, he wondered what she'd say to him, what she had to say to him. Would she have been able to forgive him?, he wondered for a moment before shaking his head. He'd never know, Phil reasoned, so why bother dwelling on it.

Once the laptop loaded up, he put the disc inside and waited. The screen faded to a woman sitting at a desk. She was in a hotel room, and Phil could see her bag lying on the bed behind her. He focused in on her face, her face. Abigail's eyes, her posture, hair... it all struck him harder than he had expected. Just seeing her face again brought the feelings back. He felt her beside him, stronger than he had before.

"Phil."

The way she said his name shattered him. Phil could hear her voice in his head, out in the open air. She was everywhere now, and he wondered if she ever really knew what she did to him. Focusing back on the video, Phil drew in a breath.

Abigail's voice was shaky as she began to speak, "Why?"

"I don't know." He whispered. She couldn't hear him, she was far away and he had been the one to push her. His finger stabbed the pause button and he rested his head against the wall. Phil was half-tempted to push the laptop away, shove it back in his bag so he didn't have to face her. He wanted to close it up, push it down and forget it, forget her. His mind couldn't take this, he couldn't handle the confrontation. If he looked into her eyes, heard her voice, he'd break down and he knew it.

Closing his eyes, he saw images of her flash on the insides of his eyelids. He'd see her when he slept, when he shut his eyes, or took a moment to think. Watching the video, he believed, would just make it worse. He already saw her around, in familiar faces. He could hear her voice faintly, the one thing that was fading from his mind. Her voice he could deal with. Her voice asking him why he did what he did... that he couldn't handle. She had meant the world to him, and he had been the one to throw it all away. Phil's hands shook as he hovered over the "play" button. He wanted to hear her voice again, and this was the only way he could think of finding it, regardless of how shitty he knew it'd make him feel.

"I'm sorry things had to end this way, Phil," Abigail began, "but it's the way things turned out." Her eyes were dimmed, the usual sparkle he always loved was faded, lost somewhere between heartbreak and death's door. He could see how tired she looked, how small and afraid she seemed, huddled under a blanket. She wrapped it around herself tighter and repositioned the camera. "You're different than the others, Phil. The majority of them didn't know what they did. But you, you know your part."

She was right, he admitted. He knew what he did wrong, as much as he wish he didn't. He wasn't innocently awaiting the verdict, he had already been sentenced; stamped with 'guilty'. No matter how many times he picked it apart and analyzed it, he always came back to the same conclusion. Abigail had left him, because he cheated.

Phil adjusted himself, trying to find a comfortable spot, to no avail. The cold floor was just as uncomfortable as it had been before. Everything felt cold to him now, since she went away. He remembered the way she smelled, how she laughed, the way her head fit perfectly on his shoulder.

"I loved you, I still do, after everything that happened between us. You were my everything, and being around you was indescribable. I loved feeling your arms around me, your voice, the way you were different than anyone I had ever met. You had qualities that I wished I could have, and I think that's why we went so well together. We each had qualities the other didn't and being together complemented what we didn't have, does that make sense?" Phil nodded, remembering how impatient he was, and how seeing patience in her almost drew him in deeper. She taught him to wait. He was level-headed and down to earth; she, on the other hand, was a dreamer. He kept her grounded, she taught him about the possibilities. The who's, where's, what's and why's...she handled those perfectly, Abigail was a people person, whereas Phil preferred solitude. They complemented each other, a perfect circle bisected into a Ying and Yang. To him, they seemed to fit perfectly.

And why he decided to screw it up was beyond him.

"Let's go back, way back, to the day we first met. You remember it, don't you?" Abigail gave a smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, as the screen faded into an arena. The camera focused on a slightly younger version of him. His hair was different, longer, darker.

"Here," He had chuckled, "is the freshmeat." He brushed his hair away from his face. "And... she's videotaping this?" His eyebrow rose as he approached her, jogging to meet her.

"Yeah," He heard her voice, "so, I'm "freshmeat", eh?"

"Well, you are new here aren't you?" He asked, puzzled. Abigail laughed and shook her head.

"I've worked here longer than you have. So...you're the freshmeat." The camera focused in on the dumbfounded look that came over his face. "Ohio Valley finally get sick of you, or what?"

"Nah, Mr. McMahon took a liking to me. Are you a wrestler?"

"God no, I love the sport, I just can't do it." She explained, "I mean, I love the sport, I just never felt the desire to go into the ring." She held the camera off to the side, so Phil was still in the picture, and most of Abigail's head. She ran a hand through her hair, tilting her head to the side as Phil explained something. "Very interesting. Straightedge?"

"It probably sounds stupid."

"On the contrary, Mr. Brooks. Not stupid at all. So, you free for lunch?" Abigail asked and he chuckled.

"You're buying me lunch, eh?"

"I'm the ECW Welcoming Committee. I take all the new Superstars out for lunch." Phil smirked, looking at her, unconvinced. "Alright, I'm not the welcoming committee... and I don't take everyone out to lunch. I just have a good feeling about you. Consider it a... ritual. You're finally one of us! Whattaya say, Shark Bait?"

He couldn't fight the chuckle and confused look that came to his face, "Did you just call me Shark Bait?"

"Hoo-ha-ha? Yeah," she laughed, "now, are you coming, or what?"

Phil nodded, "Yeah." He smiled at her and she began to turn around. His hand reached out, grabbing her wrist. "Wait, you never told me your name."

"Abigail. There's this great place just down the road, if you want to go there." Abigail moved the camera and began walking away. The screen faded to black.

Phil stopped the video again. He remembered the day they met, the day she dubbed him 'Shark Bait', and she rarely addressed as anything but. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard. The more he sat there and watched the video, the more he remembered about her. He wouldn't lie, it hurt. It hurt knowing he had a part in this, the end. He could feel her presence around him, like a ghost that wouldn't go away.

He stared into the dark room. He was a hypocrite, he realized. A filthy hypocrite. He wanted the dark, it brought her back to him. He loved her.

He didn't love Maryse.

Phil started the video again, and watched as Abigail's face came back into focus. "That was one of my favorite days, Phil. Shark Bait." Phil smiled at that, but it quickly fell. He knew what was coming, and he was trying to prepare himself for it. She'd cut him down for it, because she didn't do it before. No, when Abigail found out his dirty little secret, she left him quietly. Their depart was sullen, scary, even, with how little she said. Her shoulders shook, and she looked at both of them.

He remembered the disgust that filled her pretty eyes as her face became stone. She neither smiled, nor frowned, as he remembered it. Maybe that was the worst. Abigail was stoic, cold, as she tried to read his eyes. Her arms had been crossed over her chest and he could see the questions swimming in her head. He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a hand to stop him.

"You can have him." The words left her mouth, whipping forward and slapping him in the face. They were directed at the blond beside him, and they bore underlying traces of venom. And that's where she left him, the last time she spoke to him, and she had dismissed him with a wave of her hand. And he deserved it.

"I'm not sure why you cheated on me, Phil. It's a horrible thing, you know? Terrible. The feeling that you just weren't good enough for somebody, that they wanted something... someone else. You find yourself self-analyzing, wondering where your faults lay, and what you did wrong. I read it in a book once, 'It takes a cold heart to prompt lechery'. Looking back on it all, I can see my faults. I just didn't think they'd lead to this. I had my faults, and you had yours. And the only thing I could think about for weeks was what I could've done wrong, what I could've done better...everything. I didn't have Matt anymore, I couldn't go to him. I made him hate me. And that was one thing I couldn't handle. I could've possibly gone on after you, I could've learned, overcome it all. It would've been hard, almost impossible, but I'd learn to live without you there. But no," Abigail sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "the timing was terrible. It really was. Then again, how could you have known Matt and I would have a fight days after we broke up?"

Yeah, he saw this coming. Phil shook his head and rubbed his face. He was getting tired, but he couldn't put the video away. He couldn't put her away. This was as close as he'd ever get to her ever again, and he'd have to savor the moments, even if they were bitter.

"You were great, the best I'd ever had." The screen faded to another video. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor as she approached. She sat down across from him, and kept the camera on him. Phil had his eyes shut, in the middle of a ritual he always did before matches. He'd sit, and relax, and try to ease the stress in his mind. Smiling, he opened an eye to look at her. He shut it again as he chuckled.

"You come out of nowhere. All the time."

"I know."

"Nightcrawler." He could hear her laugh.

Phil laughed, he had named her 'Nightcrawler'. She always showed up, out of the blue. Besides, Nightcrawler was her favorite, she had told him so. He could list a thousand characters, and everything they could do, and she'd just sit there with him and listen. He took a breath, she always listened.

The Chicago native remembered one of the many times they spent curled up on the couch, watching movies to pass the time. Finding Nemo. That was a favorite of hers, and she insisted on watching it at least once a month. He could quote it by heart. She always reminded him of the little turtle, mostly because she could imitate the voice so well...

"Good afternoon, we're gonna have a great jump today. Okay, first crank a hard cutback as you hit the wall. There's a screaming bottom curve, so watch out. Remember: rip it, roll it, and punch it." She'd grin, popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth before offering some to him. He'd take it, smiling down at her, with her head in his lap, her feet propped up on the opposite arm of the couch.

"It scares me how well you can do that." He tapped her nose, causing her to laugh some more.

"Aw, Shark Bait, you know you love it."

"Yes, I do...Squirt."

Abigail gasped, flicking him in the nose. "Squirt?"

"It's not my fault you're outrageously short...and can quote the character." Phil defended himself. "Besides, I'm Shark Bait...you can be Squirt."

Abigail shrugged, "Fair enough." A grin spread across her face. "Phil."

"Yeah?" He said, preparing for something serious. "What is it."

"Hoo ha ha!" She hit him with a throw pillow, instantly dropping it and jumping up from her spot. Phil followed, chasing her around the couch before he finally got his arms around her waist. Throwing her onto the couch, he nearly let go. Abigail grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him down with her. The couch tipped, and rocked before tipping over onto its back. Abigail shrieked, and Phil cursed as it did, throwing him on top of her. Phil pushed himself up, by his hands.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concerned at first, yet unable to hide the smile. He brushed a lock of hair from her face.

"Yeah." She grinned, and for a moment there was silence. Both collapsed into laughter.

Shaking his head, he focused back on the video.

"I dig it." Her voice drifted in, and it brought a smile to his face. "So...what's on your mind, Shark Bait?"

"The norm. I have a match."

"C'mon, did you really just forget?"

His face grew puzzled, "Wait...what? I don't get it?" He opened his eyes and stared at her. "What?" He prompted again when she didn't answer. The camera was set on the ground, but angled up to him. She stood and walked towards the low table he sat in front of. Pulling herself onto it, she let her legs dangle over the edge, one on either side of him, and she began massaging his shoulders. "You put your camera down."

"Yes." She smiled, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Abbi-Cam..."

He groaned, "Abigail..."

"Ooooh, tough man's using my full name." She chuckled. "Hello, my lovely friends. This here," she patted his shoulder "is my Shark Bait. The Marlin to my Dory, and today is his birthday. Yep, Mr. Brooks, oops, I mean CM Punk..." She trailed off, "Did I break the fourth wall?" She grimaced, "Eep, I'll apologize to McMahon later. Where was I? Ah, yeah, this here," Abigail pointed to his head, "is the best boyfriend a girl could ask for, and I love him. God, I love him." Her voice went soft as she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "And I just wanted to publicly give him his gift. And I hope he loves it."

"I'll love anything you get me."

"Coca Cola?"

"Except that." He smiled, reaching up to pat her knee. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box, tied with a bow and a card. Handing it to him, she grinned and rested her chin atop his head.

"Go on," She urged as he opened the card, "read it."

"Hey, Shark Bait, I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me over the years. It's been a while, hasn't it?" He paused. "That makes us sound old." He shook his head as he went on, "And I feel like I should give you a better gift, something to really show you I care..." He broke off, smirking as he twisted to face her. "I'm not reading that part out loud. No sir, that is all for me." Phil grinned as she slapped him upside the head. "Ow." Phil pouted, rubbing his head. "I love you, too." His pout faded into a grin as he focused on the card, "Moving on, ehem, I love you. I love you, your obsession with comic books, the way you talk, the way you say my name, the way you keep me grounded...just... everything you do for me."

He twisted to face her again, "Did you write me a book?" He waited for a moment, taking in her 'are you kidding me' face. "I'm kidding." Phil smiled, leaning up to kiss her. "Now, what did lil' miss Abbi give me for my birthday?" Phil opened the box, nearly dropping it as he pulled out the two slips of paper. "Y-you...you're not kidding?" His face shone with joy, and she nodded. "Killswitch tickets...you're serious! I love this band, babe..." His voice trailed off as he pulled her down into his lap. Phil wrapped his arms around her, barely containing his excitement.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." He replied, kissing her cheek and holding her tightly. Phil rested his forehead against hers. Slowly, he captured her lips for a soft kiss. Pulling back, he grinned. "I love you too, Squirt."

He couldn't fight the tears anymore. They trailed down his cheeks, falling to the ground without a sound. She was reminding him of the good times, all the good times they had together. A brief video flashed, one where he had stolen her camera, and she had chased him down trying to make him give it back to her.

"PHIL!" She tried to pull a serious face, but failed and ended up cracking a smile. "Give me my camera!"

He stuck his tongue out at her, he remembered. He held the camera, focusing it on her. "Ladies and gentlemen, hope none of you mind, but this here is the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Aw...look, she's being humble." He zoomed in. Abigail stood, a small smile playing on her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

"Phil..."

"Shush, Squirt, the world needs to know what I see every time I look at you. See her? She keeps me dreaming, sounds weird, doesn't it?" He chuckled. "I'm serious though. She's my everything, and I don't tell her enough." Phil sidled up to her and raised his arm, angling the camera down. "I hope I'm angling this thing right. Otherwise you either have a good view of us, or the floor. God, that'd be embarassing." He added quietly as he put an arm over her shoulder. "She isn't usually this shy."

"Phil." She smiled. "What are you doing?"

"Letting the world know that I, Phillip Jack Brooks, am head over heels in love with Abigail Jane Whitaker. She makes me feel like a teenager again. She makes me feel right, like I'm flying and nobody can bring me down. It's the closest thing to a high that I've ever felt...she is my high, and I mean this. I really do, Abbi. I don't just love you, I'm in love with you."

Abigail returned to the screen, and he could see her tears glistening under the light. "That was the most watched video of my entire video diary. I only wanted to show you the good parts, the bad were never caught on tape. We did have our bad times, and we always overcame them. But I can't forget cheating. I just can't. And, this will sound odd, but I thought about it over the past month. I said she could have you, but you didn't want her anymore. I guess that counts for something, right? Speaking of that, do you have any idea how your little tramp treated me? Yeah, it didn't help. Whatever, where was I? Oh yeah. This will sound odd, Phil...really odd, and you're going to think I'm crazy. I still love you, and I probably always will. Had this...had this not happened, I wouldn't have hesitated to spend the rest of my life with you. You completed me, Phil. And, I...I forgive you, Phil. And I have this to say before I go. This was one of the hardest videos I had to make. I hope you live a long and happy life, Shark Bait."

Phil was shaking as the screen went to black. He slammed his laptop shut and pushed it away from him. She forgavehim. The words hung in the air, suffocating him. He threw away everything he could ever ask for, screwed her over and led her to this... and she still forgave him. Phil shut his eyes, wishing he could go back in time and change his decision. He loved her, Abigail, Squirt, Nightcrawler, whatever... he loved her. A memory floated to the top of his mind, straining against his urge to fight it back down again.

"Phil!" She laughed as he pulled her into his arms. "I have an interview to do!"

"I don't care," he grinned, tracing kisses down her jawline, "how're you doing, Princess?"

"Good." Abigail nodded, leaning into him. He could feel her warmth against his skin and it made him feel at home. Being around her made him feel welcomed and safe. His home was where she was, and he was okay with that. He was perfectly fine with the grip she had on his heart. She turned her head and leaned up to kiss his lips. "And you?"

"Better now." He whispered, brushing his lips back against hers. Phil kept his arms around her, loosely, but enough to hold her close to him. Looking into her eyes, he caught the sparkle that seemed to live inside them. The flare in her heart reached into her eyes, into her posture, the way she spoke... everything. The fire inside her burned, deeply and everlasting. Even on the darkest days, he could look in her eyes and see the fire...feel the love that would never go way.

Snapping back to reality, he realized that that wasn't a lie, regardless of what Abigail thought. He loved her now, then, and always. And even through the dark times, through his darkest days, he'd remember her and feel that fire. The fire would burn, always.