"So, you want to become a wrestler, huh?" the thin man cackled. "You'll never get that far."

A young Phil Brooks crossed his arms in anger.

"I'll show you," he replied under his breath.

His father continued to laugh, mocking his younger son.

"No one likes you," the man stated. "You'll end up all alone… just like Daddy."

"Shut up!" he echoed loudly. "Shut up!" he repeated, trying to drown out his father's cackles. "I will never be like you... because I hate you."

"Love me or hate me, I'm still your father. And that's still your mother over there," he said, pointing to her.

She was laying on the couch, drenched in sweat.

"Wha? Who said that?" she muttered tiredly.

His father took another swig of his alcohol, and smiled to himself. He then reached over to his son and attempted to give his a sip.

Phil felt the drink reach his lips. He immediately spat it out, causing his father to laugh. In his anger, he slapped the drink out of his father's hand. The bottle shattered when it hit the floor. Its contents spilled out, which made his father's eyes widen in fury. Phil knew that he was in for a beating. He ran out to the front yard. When he turned around, he saw his father standing at the doorway.

"Don't worry, I'll be waiting right here for ya," he chuckled. "I'll see you soon."

Punk woke up in a sweat. This memory of his was one of the most impressionable ones that he had remembered. His parents were never supportive once they found out that he had wanted to become a wrestler. His father had belittled him and had tried to make him feel insecure. His mother was always "out of it." Her drug abuse was widely known around the neighborhood. After work, she would take a hit. Punk and his older brother would almost always have to eat out because his parents wouldn't stock the fridge adequately enough. Quite frankly, it seemed like they didn't even care if their own children were left to starve.

His older brother, Mike, wanted to be a wrestler as well. Their parents were aware that Mike dreamed of being a wrestler, and were somewhat reassuring. They couldn't and wouldn't empathize with Phil because he seemed to constantly condemn them for being addicted to drugs and alcohol.

Punk sighed. Nothing would help him more than to talk to Maria about this. Why were they bothering him? He wanted to get rid of these flashbacks. He wanted to delete them from his mind. He wanted them gone, forever.

Punk received a voicemail from Heyman, advising him to get to the arena as soon as possible. He got his things ready immediately, happy to have a distraction. As he was about to head out the door, Maria caught his eye. They exchanged silent grins, and he turned the doorknob.

"See you, Phil," she said softly, an apologetic look on her face.

Punk nodded his head quietly, not in the mindset to talk to her just yet.

On his arrival to the arena, he found Heyman running to greet him.

"Slow down, there. You don't want to hurt yourself," Punk snorted.

Heyman panted. "Vince… he's giving you a storyline."

"So that old man is going to finally give me a storyline, eh? After all the years of disrespect," he said.

Punk began to remind Heyman how "the old man" would never see eye to eye with him, partly because he was going blind. Paul made grunting noises, wishing he would stop talking.

"This old man sees the potential you have, Punk," a voice spoke behind Punk.

Vince patted him on the back. "I got you a storyline with none other than…" he trailed.

A short figure with long black hair came into view.

"Her? You have got to be kidding me," Punk complained.

"Listen here, you want to be in the spotlight? I'll give you the spotlight… but under MY terms. If you hadn't noticed, I'm the one who got you where you are right now," growled Vince, suddenly annoyed.

He gave Punk another loathing look, and smiled weakly at AJ before walking away.

"Beat it," she said rudely, looking squarely at Heyman.

Heyman rolled his eyes and walked away without a word. When AJ looked at Punk, she flashed him a smile. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, curious.

"I'm excited for our storyline. Are you?" she asked.

"'Excited' is not the word I would use."

"Anyways, I'm really sorry about bothering you. I pitched the idea to Vince, and he actually agreed. Isn't that great?" she said happily.

"I meant what I said the other day. I don't want a stalker fangirling over me all the time. That's just weird."

"Oh don't worry, I'm not a stalker or a fangirl. I'm not like that. I'm different," AJ stated.

"Different? More like crazy," he chuckled, walking away.

AJ muttered something under her breath. She hoped she could change his mind.

Punk was backstage waiting for his match with Daniel Bryan to begin, when he noticed AJ skipping in circles around him. He looked at her inquisitively, causing her to stop skipping.

"I'm going to interfere in your match," she said. "So, just a heads up. Don't be unusually surprised when you see me walk down that ramp."

"Thanks for the heads up," he replied.

AJ winked back at him, before skipping off in the distance.

During the match, AJ had skipped her way down the ramp. Daniel was obviously distracted by his on-screen girlfriend. She gained his attention long enough for Punk to grab him to perform the GTS. CM pinned him for the three count. Daniel slowly rolled himself out of the ring, clearly upset. As he walked up the ramp, he saw AJ peck Punk on the cheek. She was grinning widely, blushing. Punk looked out towards the audience, holding his cheek. The WWE universe cheered at the thought of them together. Punk pursed his lips as he scratched his head, eyeing the WWE Diva.

Maybe this storyline won't be as bad as I thought.