"My scars?" Punk paused, looking down at AJ as she nodded.
"If we're going to be dating, Punk… I want to know. We need to be honest with each other." She told him.
"You honestly think I wouldn't have told you by now if it wasn't so embarrassing?" He looked at her, watching her as she looked very confused.
"Embarassing? What'd you think I'm going to do? Laugh at you?" She frowned.
"Maybe." Punk shrugged, "It's not a big deal." He told her.
"Then why can't you tell me." She folded her arms, "I'm here for you… I'm not going to judge you." She watching his head drop to the ground, cupping his cheeks and lifting it back up, "I love you. Please, talk to me." She said, shuffling around in the sand, taking her light cardigan off and sitting it down, sitting down on it as he watched her.
Punk trusted her of course. More than anyone. But he was scared she would laugh or think he was being stupid. Not that it was anything to laugh about.
AJ smiled as he walked over and sat down beside her, looking out at the dark ocean and shutting his eyes for just a second. He'd never told anyone about this, but AJ deserved the truth, she deserved to know after all these years of wondering.
"How was your relationship with your father when you were young?" Punk sighed, turning to AJ as she clicked on immediately, shaking her head as her lip quivered for him.
Punk turned away from her, leaning forward and crossing his legs in a basket, feeling her rub his back soothingly. He picked the sand with his hands, looking down as the tide came in and out.
"My mom and brother always called me Punk, I was Punk to everyone. Hey, there's little Punk riding his bike, or… hey there's little Punk pretending he's a cop with his toy guns in his front garden. But my dad… he called me Phil. Phil… go get me a beer. Phil… why aren't you like the other kids your age. Phil… why haven't you brought a girl home yet like your brother. It was always Phil. No matter how many times I begged my mom to tell him not to call me it, he always called me it. He used to sit on the couch and say, you were born Phil, you will always just be Phil." Punk said, trying his best not to fall apart, feeling AJ shuffle forward and lean her head against his shoulder, just to let him know she was here.
"That's why you don't like the name?" She asked in almost a whisper.
"Yeah." He nodded, "Whenever someone calls me it, I just see my dad, I hear him yelling at me. Telling me to go to my room, or fetch him another beer. Maybe if he was a nicer man, I wouldn't mind the name." He admitted.
"And your scars?" AJ asked, continuing to lean her head on his shoulder.
"He used to hit me." Punk took a deep breath, "Sometimes so hard that I'd fall over. The worst thing was, I used to think it was only when he was drunk, because that's when it first started to happen, but one night when he was sober, he came from work, I was watching TV. My mom was in the kitchen making dinner, my brother was out with his friends. My dad told me to go to my room, so he could watch TV and drink himself into oblivion. I stood up for myself, I told him where to go. I was thirteen. He picked me up and rattled me so hard I fell and hit my head off the table. He told my mom I tripped." He rolled his eyes that had glistening tears forming in them.
AJ wiped the tear that ran down her cheek, continuing to listen to him, leaning her head into him and holding on to his arm.
"Didn't your mom catch him one time?" AJ asked quietly, not really knowing what to say or how to respond. She never seen Punk so upset and weak before.
"No. My mom was always in the kitchen or in bed." Punk said, "I tried talking to my brother about it, he just told me to shut up and grow up. I had no one to tell. I had no friends, my mom was always so busy with work and keeping up with my dads alcohol problems and my brother just didn't care. I would maybe understand if I was a bad kid. If I misbehaved or was cheeky… but I was a good kid, you know… I helped my mom around the house, I done my homework, I kept my room tidy, I had manners… most of the time." He said, "I don't know why he had this hate for me." Punk shrugged.
"Bad kid or not… no parent should ever hit their child." AJ said sternly.
"He wasn't a parent though. Do you know what he said to me one time?" He turned to her, noticing she had tears in her eyes. He turned back to look out into the ocean, it calming him whilst telling his past, "He told me that my mom and him only wanted one kid. They only wanted one son. That I was a bigger mistake in his life than everytime he picked up an alcohol bottle." He said, chuckling coldly, his laugh hiding the pain.
"You weren't a mistake." AJ whispered, rubbing his arm up and down softly, her head leaned against his broad shoulder.
"My back was always the easy target. Did you ever used to… sit in front of the TV when doing your homework?" He said, not really expecting an answer as he went on, more of a rhetorical question, "I did… my back would be turned to him. He used to hit beer cans off my back. I wasn't the type to run away, so I sat there, and took every single hit. Sometimes he wouldn't even be hitting me for a reason. It hurt… you know, this is my father, this is the guy I'm meant to look up to and he's hitting me with every chance he has. I thought about running away, sometimes even got so far that I packed a bag, but I would wind up unpacking it and not letting him put me down." He said, "It's hard to be strong when you're alone though." He admitted, watching AJ dry her tear streaming eyes, "Don't cry." He whispered, kissing her head.
"Was that… the reason you got the scars? The beer cans?" AJ asked with a hitched voice, a large lump in her throat as she could almost feel Punks pain in his voice.
"Yeah, the majority of the scars and knicks on my back are from that. But a few are from other times. We had a really jaggy fence in our back garden. Me and my brother used to go out in the summer and play football out the back, it was the only time we got along. My dad came out and shouted us for dinner. We were so into the game, you know… you'd think parents would like to see their kids get along. I made the mistake in asking my dad for just five more minutes of staying outside. My brother warned me not to, but I didn't see the problem in asking. It was Summer, all the kids were out late, not coming home for dinner until after dark. My dad came storming out… my brother ran away." Punk said as AJ leaned her forehead on his arm, closing her eyes in fear, like she was living in Punks nightmare.
Just the image of him as a sweet little boy, getting bullied by his own father. It was so hard to hear, especially when she loved him so much.
"I had no t-shirt on. I was fourteen, it was Summer, it was roasting. He grabbed me and pushed me up the fence, my back was a mess after it. He told me not to back chat with him." He said, "I told my mom that I fell back against the fence, she believed me and it was forgotten about, but yet… here I am today, with the scars to remind me." He said.
"Weren't you terrified of him?" AJ asked with a quaky voice.
"At first, yeah. After a while I just got used to it. It was like he purposely wanted me to cry or get upset and I never did. That's what made him so angry." Punk chuckled, "I'll always remember, I was eight… I was sitting at the kitchen table with my brother doing homework, I was writing about what I wanted to be when I got older. My dad came over and read it and laughed. He told me I didn't have the balls to be a cop… eight fucking years old." Punk shook his head, a tear rolling down his cheek as he dried it quickly, "I knew at that moment that I'd be a cop, in fact… I vowed that I'd be better than a cop. That I'd take risks, catch the bad guys like on they cartoons you watched on Sundays, I'd find a nice girl along the way, we'd get married and have kids of our own and I vowed… I vowed I would never treat my kids the way my dad treated me. I would love them and tell them they could be whatever they wanted to be. I would let them stay out late in the Summer, I'd help them with homework, let them watch their TV shows… I promised I wouldn't turn out to be like him." He said, wiping his cheeks that were dampened by his fallen tears.
"You will never be like him. You're sweet and loving and caring and I love you so much." She said as he turned around to look at her.
All Punk could do was smile. This was why he loved her. Even in his darkest of times, she was here, telling him she loved him. To know she was here and wasn't judging, to know she cared and supported him, it was all he needed.
"I left the house when I was 18. My brother was worried about me, he was scared I was going to go do something stupid now that I had the chance to go do my own thing. He began to understand everything that our dad had done to me. But it was too late for him to do anything. I was 18, the damage was done." He said.
"He still hit you when you were 18?" AJ asked.
"No… No, he knew better. He stopped physically hurting me when I was about fifteen going on sixteen, but like I said, the damage had been done. He continued to talk trash to me though, all the way until I moved out." He said, "I rented an apartment in the city and started training down at the station. I met Dean, Roman and Seth. They were the best things to happen to me, they had their own shitty upbringing that made me feel better about myself, and they were a good laugh. Then you came along… and changed everything." He smiled to her as she leaned into him tightly.
"Is your dad still alive?" AJ asked curiously.
"No. He died a long time ago. Liver failure. My mom said he suffered badly." Punk said, "Am I a bad person if I say I'm glad he suffered?" He looked at her.
"No. Not when he made you suffer your entire childhood." AJ shook her head, glad herself that this cruel man had suffered what he deserved, "Did you go to the funeral?" AJ asked.
"Yeah. Remember that time I told you all I was going on a work course, to do with the new ammunition we were working on getting?" He said as she nodded remembering, "Well I was really at my dad's funeral." He said as she nodded.
He was pretty sure AJ hadn't let go of him all night as soon as he started talking. She was leaning into him so tightly, her head leaning on his shoulder, rubbing his arm up and down to comfort him. He couldn't have asked for a better girlfriend. She was understanding and caring.
"Well look at you… you done what you said you were going to do, you became better than a cop, you took risks, caught the bad guys like on television, and hey… guess what, you even got the girl." She smiled as he did, "I'm not sure about the marriage and kids thing yet, but there's time." She said as he chuckled, "You done everything you said you would, everything your father said you couldn't. You have nothing to be ashamed of…" She smiled, running her hands through his hair, "All of that is in the past. This is the present, and right now you have me, you have three amazing friends, we just took down one of the toughest guys in the world, and we're here living it up in the sun for a vacation. Don't look back and be ashamed, look back and be proud of how much you've achieved." She said, "Your father might have not said it, but I'm saying it… I'm so proud of you, and I love you." She said as he smiled, taking her hand and squeezing it.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't ever want to lose you." He said. She was his everything, they had become lovers over night and so much more passion and intimacy was brought to their relationship now, but she was still his best friend that he trusted with his life. She always would be.
"You're never going to lose me." She promised him, reaching up and pecking him on the lips.
"Don't tell the guys, yeah? You know what they're like." Punk said as she nodded.
"It stays between me and you." She nodded, "Come on." She stood up, dusting herself off and taking her cardigan from the sand, watching him stand up too, dusting himself down, the sand getting everywhere like usual, she took his hand and leaned up, "Let's go back to the hotel." She suggested with a sweet smile, passionately kissing him as she wrapped her around his neck, his arms circling around her waist.
She was so proud of him for opening up to her like that, she knew it couldn't have been easier, but she knew he must have felt so much relief now that she knew and was calm about everything. There was no better feeling than being loved, even when your past nightmares were dark and twisted like his. She loved him for him.
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