YAY! They're saved. Don't worry about the plot. I have so many plot twists that it's impossible for me to be finished at this rate. XD.

Chapter Eleven

Today, we were finally on dry ground after so so so long.

I felt as if dry, dehydrated ground was a dream until my feet had finally stepped and after so long, feeling the hot sand between my feet, it was like finally reaching Heaven's gate but now, seeing his face in front of me, that anger-ridden face as he pulled Matt away from me, Jeff Hardy was everyone's slut, wasn't he?

We were saved.

I should be happy.

I was happy, wasn't I?

All I could remember was Matt shaking me awake and I had woken up in the helicopter, the sounds of him finally telling me that we were saved was the only thing that registered in my head…

Back to Square One.

On land, no friends, alone, brutal and vicious CM Punk that everyone hated with a passionate fury…

Yeah.

What was this feeling?

This emptiness inside of me that was déjà vu to me…

Loneliness.

I haven't been alone for almost a week and right now, everyone was just so buzzing happy that Matt Hardy was back but what about me? Did they even bat an eyelash towards me? Did they even notice that I was gone? It almost like I wasn't bitten and scratched by a shark. I had to go to the hospital myself and get checked out myself, the deep cuts that will turn into scars, the marks of Matt Hardy and I's horror show. I hate this.

Why didn't anyone care about me?

What did it take for them to notice me?

What did it take for them to see that I have feelings too? God, the pain was just burning inside of me. I can't breathe. I can't think. The first time I'd stepped into a shower just made me think of Matt Hardy and as I was about to go to sleep, I heard my phone ring, as violently as ever.

I took my phone and pressed it against my ear, hearing the sound of Matt's voice burn into my ear, "Phil?"

"Don't call me Phil." Around here, I wasn't Phil anymore. Phil was a human name as I had mentioned before. I didn't deserve to be named 'Phil' and right here, and right now, I wasn't Phil. I was CM Punk. I was a jerk. I was a bastard that would do anything to get his own way. Let's be in character here, people.

Have I ever told him that I don't even know who Phil Brooks is? Oops, must've forgotten. This mask I wore was the only thing I knew, this plastered hard face of mine was the only shield I had, and I wore it, and I took it, because I had to stay strong. Because after all, who wanted to see weak, scared little Punk running away from the world around him, crying his eyes out? Who wanted to see that?

Matt had already seen enough. Why didn't he understand the meaning of the words, 'leave me alone, Hardy bitch'. I thought my eyes had emphasized that quite clearly in the ring. "Phil, listen," Matt's voice was creamy sweet and I found it hard not to melt towards the softness of his voice, "you can pretend that we didn't kiss or fuck but that doesn't mean it didn't happen…"

"I didn't." I snapped at him. "It was just a moment of desperation. We thought we were going to die so we did what we had to do. We fucked each other because we both don't want to die alone. That's it. There's nothing else to it. Leave. Me. Alone. And forget this all ever happened."

I knew I was being awfully mean but what could I have done? I didn't want him to get hurt just because of me. I didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. But the words just had to be said and even if I say words like these all the time, it didn't make the pain of it all just go away. It was still all just the same. All the same stabbing pain that was pushing through my heart. If Matt and I had gotten together after all this horror story, we'd both be happy for a short while before I say anything that labeled me as CM Punk right now, and he'd break up with me and leave me here to rot in my own thoughts.

Besides, what was so special about a relationship?

I sure as hell didn't know why. It was all sex and kisses, right? What else could it be based out of? Why did he care about me so much? He didn't even know me well enough. He knew I couldn't swim. He knew that I couldn't dance to save my life. He knew that I acted like a spoiled brat to my own mother. But he didn't know beside that. He didn't know how I felt and think and see things and he couldn't. Matt Hardy was sweet and I couldn't afford to be sweet.

I've been in this Punk mask for too long that I thought I was this person that I pretended to be. It made me; it shaped me, into this monster that I didn't know of. It made me look into the mirror and wonder what was underneath that skin and hair, what was inside of me, the truth…

"I really care about you, Phil. You know this."

"Don't call me Phil." My voice was stronger, harder and more rigid.

"Okay, Punk," he said, but his voice wasn't sarcastic or hard, it was still as soft as ever and as light as air, as if he was afraid that his words could hurt me. As if he could see this person inside of me that even I didn't know of. "But I'll have you know that I care about you. That you're beautiful. That…God, you're just amazing. I can't go a minute without thinking about you. You should see that I don't want to hurt you. That I care about you…Punk…you make me…"

Did he go around saying this shit to anyone?

I slammed my fist towards the table, and I could feel my eyes tearing up anyways but even now, as I looked into the mirror, I saw that there was just an angry monster ready to be unleashed, there was no sympathy, and there was nothing and that made me want to scream out louder than ever before. Who was I? What had I become? What did it take for me to be human?

If being out in the ocean for about a week and three days didn't do it then nothing would've. I've been in the ocean with the sweetest, kindest guy I've ever known and even with that, I still stayed the same. But he saw that I was battling for humanity and he wanted to help me be a better person.

I didn't know how to.

Did he think that I didn't try to break free from this curse I put myself in? Did he think that I didn't try to be normal? No. He didn't. I just wasn't normal. I just couldn't do anything to stop this pain. The pain was there because I was a horrible person and if I could see the light, why was I still stabbing in the agony and desolation that I was before?

…I was so confused.

"Our relationship is fucking fake!" I screamed out, unable to know what I was saying, the words just fell out of my mouth. This was hurting him on the inside. Poor Hardy was breaking into pieces and I was doing it. "It was just made of some comfort, kisses and sex! That's all it! Don't you fucking understand?!"

Matt's breathing turned shallow. "Phil, you don't understand how much I really care! And you're really hurting me right now! Why are you hurting me? Why…?" his voice was breaking as hard as ever. "Did I hurt you, Phil? Did I?" his voice was so shaky that I knew that tears were falling out of his face.

I didn't know what to say.

The emotion.

The pain.

The agony.

The desolation.

That was in his voice…

"Leave me alone! I HATE YOU!" those words were practically forced out of my mouth as I slammed the phone shut and I fell onto my bed, sobbing recklessly…how could I be like this? Tears were falling down my face so fast and so bad that I couldn't do anything to stop them. I was ready to punch myself, ready to dislocate my jaw and that night, I was just so ticked off at myself. I wanted to die. I set a bottle of rubbing alcohol next to my feet, the white bottle glistening as I took off my bandages to see the horrible, painful cuts and I grabbed onto the bottle of rubbing alcohol, I mixed the liquid inside of my cuts and when I had done that, I dropped the bottle, screamed out in practical burning pain. This was too much! I can't handle this! It was like something was burning inside of me. I curled up into a bottle to stop the pain but I knew that I deserved this. That was why I applied it all over again.

The first time I applied it was for being a bastard.

The second time I forced myself to finish the bottle in seconds it was for Matthew Moore Hardy.

It…it hurt.

It hurt so much that I was in the verge of tears.

I slept curled up in my position, with my battered arms pulsing pain and the floor making the pain in my back throb.

In my mind, I deserved to bleed…

Poor Phil.

He deserves a break.

)=

Review?

X Sam.