I woke up to the bright morning light glaring in my face. After I stared around for a few minutes, adjusting my eyes to my surroundings, I realized I was still in my truck. I saw the bottle of Jack Daniels from last night lying broken on the floor. It had spilled onto the floor, changing it a deep black stain. The car reeked of it, the smell permeating my nostrils and giving me a headache. I wiped my face with my hands and made to get out of the truck. I grabbed my bag from the bed of the truck and made my way into the hotel lobby.

"Can I help you sir?" the desk clerk asked from across the room, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Oh, no thank you ma'am. I just had a little accident. I have a room; I just need to get cleaned up."

"Oh. Okay then," she said, still unsure. I crossed the lobby to the elevator, ignoring the looks from some of my coworkers.

When I finally got to my room I threw my stuff down and went to the bathroom. I stared in the mirror and saw what had caught everyone's attention. Blood stained my green DX t-shirt. I felt a familiar sting in my left arm, a reminder of the events from the night before.

There was nothing I could do now. I'd spend the rest of the day in a void, until I got to RAW that night. Then I'd be a mess of knots and confusion, so bad that I'd end up puking before the end of the night. I sighed into the mirror, blowing my blonde locks out of my face. I turned to the shower and stripped down, getting ready to start my long day.

Later That Night...

"Shawn, I think we need to talk about last night," Hunter said, finally acknowledging my presence in the locker room.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said in my monotone. "You were right and I was wrong. I shouldn't have kicked you."

"No, it was for the Championship," he said, sitting next to me as I laced up my boots. "And plus, I made such a big deal about it not mattering who won, so I shouldn't have gotten mad."

"Okay," I said, standing up to put on my wrist tape.

"So, you forgive me?" he asked, coming to stand next to me.

"Yeah," I said, wrapping the tape around my arms.

"Damn Shawn! What happened to you?" Hunter said, grabbing my arms. He examined the red scratches made along my wrists, crisscrossing over my pale skin.

"Nothing," I said, yanking my arms from his grip.

"Did you do that?" he asked, staring at me wide eyed.

"Just let it go, Hunter. I don't want to talk about it. You know, sometimes I think you forget that I'm older than you, and I taught you everything you know. Just leave me the hell alone. I'm a grown man and I know damn well what I'm doing, okay?"

He stared at me for a second before finally nodding. "Okay Shawn."

We still had a while before we had to go out, so we decided to watch the show on the monitor. Punk was sitting around, bitching about drugs, or alcohol, or pie or something. It cut to commercial break as he finally put down the mic. A Monk commercial came on, followed by Call of Duty, and then Elf. Will Ferrell was running around, being crazy when from behind us came a shrill, unexpected scream.

"SANTAAAAA!" Skye yelled, jumping up and down behind us.

"My God kid! Have you lost your fucking mind?" Hunter asked, throwing a pillow at her.

"But I know him," she said, continuing her impression. She hopped over the edge of the couch and settled herself in between us, pushing us over and throwing her arms around our shoulders.

"So, I take it you to have made up?" she asked in her slight southern drawl.

"Oh yeah," Hunter said. "No way are we breaking up. Not anytime soon."

She turned to look at me. "You okay Shawn?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said.

"So what y'all doing Thursday?" she asked, opening a bag of Lays potato chips she had hidden in her coat pocket.

"Steph wants me to fly back to Connecticut with her to have dinner with Shane, Vince, and Linda," Hunt said, sighing.

"You gonna go?" she asked, stuffing the yellow chips into her mouth.

"Well yeah. She is my girlfriend since, forever."

She gave him a look and shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever man. Your life." She tossed more chips into her mouth, making her cheeks puff out as she attempted to chew them. Her oversized black Nirvana hoodie practically ate her, she was so tiny. Well, maybe tiny isn't the right word for it. She was shorter than most of the Divas, and defiantly lacked the boobs and ass of most of them (minus Michelle McCool), and had a pretty fragile looking frame, but somehow tiny didn't seem to be the word for it.

"So what are you doing Shawn?" she asked, gulping down the last of her chips.

"I don't know. Probably just watching some TV."

"No," she said, still looking at me with her big brown eyes. "You gotta be with someone on Thanksgiving. You should come with me, Matt, Jeffro and Andy. We're gonna be cooking."

"Aw, that's okay Skye. Thanks for the offer though."

A disappointed look came over her face that made me regret my decision. But I knew I'd regret going even more. "Well, I guess I'll see you guys later. I gotta get ready for my match."

"Okay then," Hunter said. "See ya Buzz."

"Bye Mars. Bye Sparky," she said shutting the door. I looked over at Hunter after she left.

"Buzz? Sparky?"

"She nicknames pretty much everyone, but only if she likes you. We eventually had to give her a nickname, cause Andy buzz cut her hair when they were little."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Hunter said, taking a swig of his Coke. "She looked like a little boy. That's why I call her Buzz. But I guess it's no surprise she gave you a nickname, Sparky."

I was about to say something when we heard the door open.

"HEY HUNTER!" Skye yelled from the door. "IS THIS YO SHIT?" she threw the pillow from earlier at such a force that it knocked the drink out of Hunter's hand and spilled it all over the floor and his duffel bag. We heard her maniacal laugh as she left, slamming the door behind her.

"Damn I hate her," Hunter said as he dumped his stuff out of his bag.