A/N- Woo it has been a while! I've been feeling so uninspired. Especially with that AJ/Punk ship being built and what not.

Am I boring you guys? Lol. PM me or review or whatever, tell me what's up. Brighten up my day!

CHAPTER 56

Drinking isn't anything new to me as I've been soaking and drenching my liver in it since the tender, tender age of 14. Smoking is just a once in a while activity. Sniffing, snorting, lining, crushing—not really my thing but shit…I need to live a little once in a while. Being that I'm experienced, I should know how much I can intake before I downfall and blackout…I SHOULD…Just that when me and my good old friend, Alcohol, get together—we're inseparable. Maybe if you call my bootycall, Mary, I'll leave Alcohol…for a minute. Add Sir Coke and I'm STILL drinking…short words me and alcohol have difficulties getting rid of each other.

Music high with bass and turned up to the maximum pierces through my ears as I flow back into consciousness. Quick to cover my ears, I move my hands and cover my head succeeding in knocking out a couple bottles and beer cans that lay on the coffee table. My brain feels as though it's turning to mush while my stomach screams, rolls, and flips. Acid burns my throat as my stomach pumps it's contents up it. I lift up off the table and search desperately for a bin or something.

A trash bin slides over as somebody, probably Bree, yells, "BOMBS AWAY!", Taking no time, I keel over the bin and retch.

Wiping my mouth, my head swirls and twirls and I start leaning forward. A hand catches me, "Woah there, don' need you gettin' a concussion now…", I feel myself being lifted up and put on top of something cushiony. The person I make out to be a man with loose hair and scruffy beard, "You gon' be fine there, miss?", he asks

Scootingaway from him, "Who-who are you? Get the fuck away!", I slur. My inhibitions MAY be lost to a point but not enough to know that this man plans to feel me up seeing as how much of a hotmess I am.

The man chuckles, "I'm Jonah…if I let ya' go you'll go about givin' yourself a concussion…relax.", he touches my knee and I shake.

Still on the defensive, I try my best to swat him away but due to lack of hand-eye coordination I miss, "Get away…", I whine, "I'll cut your fuckin'…fuckin' balls off…mo'fucker."

This Jonah person drops next to me in a fit of laughter, "Sure as hell wouldn't want that!", he breathes out, "Look, darlin', I ain't lookin' to shake you up BUT per your request…I'll just sit here and have a fix while you come back."

A couple minutes slowly pass by and the world as I know it stops swirling and shit. This Jonah dude lazily leans on the couch enjoying whatever he snorted from the mirror in his hand, Bree on the other side of the table has passed out, to my surprise quite a few people still linger around having a joint, a laugh, in the middle of taking each other's clothes off, talking, and drinking, and me…I'm just slumped over on this damn couch feeling like shit.

Wearily, I reach out to poke Jonah, "You gots a mint?"

He smiles dreamily, still floating oh his cloudy high, "Sorry darlin'."

Groaning amongst other stuff, I stumble and wobble my way to the restroom down stairs. One thing that one should definitely not do is walk up or downstairs. I brace myself to the railing but still stumble on the last step and fall on my knees, "FUCKING…CUNTSLUT!", mutter

Gravity holds me down to the ground so I just crawl my way through the dark parlor over to the bathroom and quickly lock the damn door.

Latching onto the sink for support I pick myself up off the floor and flip on the light switch. Mentally, I'd prepared myself for piss and what not on the tiled floor…no such thing. What I hadn't prepared myself for is for looking in the mirror.

My flesh could just peel off at how fucking disgusting I look. Fuck my life… The strong smell of alcohol is matter-of-fact my hair which is somewhat matted along with my sweater having multiple beer and pizza stains. My face looks like it has been zombiefied: bloodshot red eyes, smeared liner and mascara, and powder near my nose. Using a finger to wipe off the substance, I notice the distinct smell of weed on it. For the next half hour, I spend my time trying to put myself together and not look like such a sloppy whore.

Flipping off the light and walking to the front doors of the parlor, I wonder what exactly happened before my blackout. Everything seems like a mystery after the shots in honor of Wes. Just trying to piece the night back together is too much a task and my brain as well as body cannot do it. At least you didn't fuck anybody?

Half-laughing at my thought comforts me. Something on me vibrates and I'm pretty sure I've pissed myself. Unexpected things are always breathtaking just like the hand that taps my shoulder. I shriek and turn around, ready to low-blow.

Jonah stands there with a case of beer in hand and another clutching heart, "Jesus, woman, you done scare the hair off my back.",

My legs tremble at the sight of him. Men can't be trusted these days… Backing away, "Don't try anything smart, I'll shout.", I warn the dude

Gently, he places down the case of beers and throws his hands up in the air as if he's being held up by the police, "Jus' lookin' to have me some beers away from all of that noise…you look like you could use one, shortcake."

I sneer at him, "What you know about what I need?", another step back and I've hit dead end with the front doors only opening if I turn around to unlock them.

"Well, all that cryin' you did 'fore you blacked out explains a bit…look, why don't we just go outside for some fresh air, have us these beers, and just relax—no worries, I don't have an agenda, girlie.",

Giving him another onceover, I nod my head slightly and turn around just enough to keep an eye on him and another at the lock.

February out here in Lockport is still rather cold and chilly but for the mood I'm in, it's okay; the cold that hits me is quite relieving. Streetlamps illuminate the streets but really don't serve their purpose because by the color of the sky, it's dawn or somewhere near it. Only sound I can hear is the soft vibration of the music upstairs.

Beer bottles clink together as they're put down for Jonah to sit next to. He smiles at me and hands me a beer.I accept it and sit a foot away from him on the curb. Nothing really flows through my mind other than the beer. For the time being I am at peace, for the moment.

"I take it that you're the celebrated Marleene, right?", he asks randomly

Staring at my feet for lack of anything else, "Yes sir, I am Marleene Soto live and in the flesh and you are…?"

"Who do you think I am?", he asks smartly

I roll my eyes and glare at him, "A country music lovin' hillbilly for down yonder…"

Man laughs and I can see his crow's feet, "Almost hit the spot but I'm Betty Lou's brother, Jonah Lafont as I said twice already."

I raise a brow, "Betty Lou?"

"Claudia…"

"Oh, ya'll southerners? Don't see a resemblance like at all."

"Yes ma'm, strayed away from South Carolina and hell, well that's pretty good.", he says proudly. The conversation goes nowhere from there. We both just stare off in thought.

Thought for me means: Phil. Seems like all the problems started after we had sex, the REAL problems…the ones with the emotions. Sex messes girls up; messed ME up: it made me feel like I'd been low-blowed when he declared his love for Maria, don't forget the disappointment I feel every time I wake up to find his side of the bed cold, the rage that boils my blood when he doesn't call, text—or anything, jealousy when he comes late and doesn't speak a word of his doings or whereabouts, and the intense longing for him to open up to me. Is he seeing someone else? Was it pity that made him feel anything for me? Am I really as repulsive as I feel? After all the chasing, did he just use me for revenge sex after all? Have I been living a lie? After everything, I gave up into temptation—I fucked myself over, it seems.

"What's on your mind, shortcake?"

The query drags me back to reality, "Huh?"

"You seem rather pensive…what's eatin' ya'?", he asks with a gulp of beer.

I scrunch up my face, "What makes you think…I'd tell you?", I reply snidely, "Ain't fuckin' story sharin' time…", I mumble finishing up my beer and grabbing another one.

"Coulda done with a simple 'No'.", he says.

"No."

"Ha. Ha.", he says monotonously, "My wife left me. We'd been married since we was 18 and she left me—"

I cock my head, "Why you telling me this?"

"'Cus I'm tryin' to break the ice? Plus, I'm starting to feel buzzed and the chances I'll see you again are slight.", he answers matter-of-factly

Raising a brow, "I'll listen then…don't expect story time from me though."

"Jus' lookin' for an ear from a pretty lil' lady—no expectations.", he says with a smirk.

The comment makes my swig of beer distasteful, "You can keep on, you know?"

Jonah chuckles, "Fine, fine.", he stares off towards the streetlight, "I come home from a hard day working as a trainer for her daddy's race horses and here some moanin' and was like 'Ooh wee, she gettin' ready for daddy!' Boy was I wrong…"

(35 MINUTES LATER)

It's officially dawn. The morning cold air shivers and ruffles every part of my body and being that I'm on my 6th beer doesn't do me any good. Business owners have already come down from their upper lofts and started to set up for the day to commence and employees lazily make their way around us, drunkards, to get to work. People from my own celebration haven't bothered to come out which only says that they're either having an orgy or passed out all over.

Here I am slumped against a very intoxicated Jonah just trying to gain some body heat and keep from blacking out. His body shakes with cold and sobs as he still keeps on with his story, "…and tha' WHORE she-she picked up her shit and left. I done yell after her…says 'YOU LEAVIN' ME…ME! FOR THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH?", he throws his bottle blindly and scoffs, "Man of God, my ass."

Feeling friendly and bad for the man, I put my arm around him and pep talk him, "Bro, if that bitch didn't know wha' she had…SHE AIN'T WORTH SHIET!", I slur. I'm so buzzed…beyond THAT!

Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, "Yee, I guess… Wha' 'bout you, lil' lady? You got a man waitin' at home?"

Up until a couple a minutes ago, I was actually getting the boy off my damn mind. Now he springs back and ruins my buzz, "Eh…"

He squeezes me, "Ah c'mon, ain't like I know the boy.", I don't elaborate. Jonah cocks his head, "He the reason for your drinkin' and sniffin'?"

"Somewhat. I, uh, don' wanna talk about him…er IT.", I lean over to pick up another bottle and just close my eyes.

Indistinct blabbering wakes me up to realize that I've passed out on the dirty fucking pavement. I sit up crankily to greet the sun all up in my grill, back pain, people whispering and moving about, and men yelling and disputing.

Getting up, I nearly kill myself. My legs feel like jello and my visions waves. Somebody comes into my view, up-close, "Goodmorning sunshine…thanks for fucking picking up my calls, 9 fucking calls.", growls Punk. Punk? When he get here?

"What?", I ask still dazed.

Punk grabs my face and checks for all around for signs of I don't know what but I feel thrown off, "What'd he give you? He spike your drink or he pull that chloroform shit on you? Are you hurt, how you feelin'? Did he touch you? Tell me 'cus I'm about to send his ass back to fucking Hillbillylandia!"

All these questions overflow my short attention span and give me a headache. I pry Phil's hands off my face and look over his shoulder to see that the people who walk around are looking at us as if we're putting on a show and Jonah stand not too far off clutching his jaw.

My eyes widen, "What'd you do?", I stumble off and check for myself. Punk tries to pull me away, "NO! We didn't—we had some beers and knocked out, Phil!"

"Ah, no need to freak, shortcake…it's okay, man just protectin' his woman.", steps in Jonah working out his jaw, "Boy got a good punch.", he adds with a chuckle.

I frown with fury threatening to fry whatever is left of my brain. I bore holes, bullet holes, into my ex-boyfriend and begin to apologize profusely to Jonah, but I guess he's choosing to go the 'Southern Gentleman' root and raises a hand for me to stop ranting, "Calm down I get it. Now that you're up…go and work it out. I needa head on up and get Betty home.", he grabs my hand, "I'm fine, now go to Town Deputy over there. I'll see ya' on the other side of the barn."

Punk pulls me away, more like YANKS me away, and scowls, "She isn't gonna see you anywhere, I'll make sure of that, partner."

"You tryin' to be her daddy or her man?", Jonah looks Punk up and down, "By the looks of it, more like her woman. What's up with the hair, too damn broke to get yourself a decent cut?", the crowd that has built up makes a chorus of 'Ooh'

Just as Punk is about to step up, I interfere, "STOP!", I push Punk away, "Let it go and let's leave…please."

He doesn't budge, he just stands their stuck to the ground, leering at Jonah, "Ooh, I see who wear the panties in this, here, relationship."

I shoot Jonah a death glare, Punk advances, "You want a fight? C'mon, I guarantee to put you to sleep, Huck Finn.", threatens Phil

Feeling lightheaded, I grab Phil's face and force him to stare me deeply in the eyes, "Let's. Go. Let it go.", he sets his jaw and bites his lip. I take his hand and basically drag him away. I plow through the crowd and mean-mug all those bitchass onlookers.

"PUT ME TO SLEEP? I'M STILL AWAKE, LIL' ONE!", taunts the southern 'gent'.

Sometimes these men don't know when to stop so…you gotta put it down yourself… Letting the hand I'm holding go, I glide through the crowd and go up to Jonah, "Maybe if you weren't such a kid, your woman wouldn't have left ya'.", his smirk disappears, "Thanks for the talk though.", with that I suckerpunch him and slingshot back to dragging Phil's sorryass away. The crowd stands astonished.

Shaky, sweaty hands fumble around with the car key trying to get it to open with no luck. My inner-rage has me so upset, so distraught that I give up and just chuck the fucking keys somewhere near a ranting enraged Phil.

He startled, "WHAT THE FUCK, YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?", ignoring him, I just stumble over to the discarded keys and pick them off and go about opening the car, "MARLEENE, I'M TALKING TO YOU.", I get in the driver's seat and turn on the engine. The black-haired man swings open the door in with a flushed red face, and by the looks of it…he's ready to blow, "MARLEENE! YOU REALLY THINK YOU'RE DRIVING ALL FUCKING DRUNK?"

Pinching my nose to try and control myself from blowing the roof off this beloved car, "I can hear you. Stop yelling."

Phil slumps down on the passenger's seat, "You trying to make me jealous by fucking around with that prick? Tell me what's up 'cus I called you so many fucking times and you never picked up—had me worried. Why are you doing this to yourself? The heavy-drinking, the smoking of weed, the snorting up shit—why? That shit's nasty as fuck! You're a fucking idiot for doing that shit…Marleene, are you even listen—"

"YES, THING, YES!", I close my eyes, "Can I just drive us home with you being a cute and quiet like you've been all these 2wks?"

Slamming of a fist on the dash shakes me up but at this point I'm too tipsy, too tired to even feel a tad bit scared, "Fucking hell, Marleene…can you just let it go? Why do you always gotta be so difficult?"

My inner tigress rips out, "LET IT GO? YOU SIT HERE FUCKING PUTTING SHIT IN MY FACE LIKE YOU KNOW ME AND YOU EXPECT ME TO LET YOU IN JUST LIKE THAT?", I snap a finger to make a point, "HAVE YOU TOLD ME WHAT YOU'VE BEEN DOING? HAVE YOU TOLD ME HOW YOU FEEL AFTER MARIA LEFT YOU? HAVE YOU OPENED UP TO ME ABOUT THAT?", I'm now face-to-face with CM Punk himself, "No, you haven't."

"I don't know you because you won't let me.", he spits in a dangerous turn, "And I say that I've more than a fair share of myself to you. You know, maybe you were right. Right about not being the same but then again you refuse to let me find out…", he plays with his lip-ring and leans back in his seat, "I dunno if I'm doing the right thing…", he whispers under his breath

My face falls. Tears of every emotion on the spectrum of Anger, Frustration, and Sadness rise and fall from my eyes. Words run through my brain but none of them in a sentence. I open my mouth to articulate but instead I black out.

In the beginning of my downfall, I stared at a bathtub…at the water and decided that I'd just cut my suffering short right then and there. So, I just laid down in that serene, peaceful, warm water and sunk myself…but due to life and destiny and all the b.s…I was brought back. As my consciousness returns with the help of warm, calm, serene water, I wonder if this time I'll be able to get myself out of this. Not because of Phil…life in general is just…

A pail of warm water soak my head and I open my eyes to see a stonefaced Phil doing his best to wash me off. Yeah, today isn't THE day… Blood circulated through my body and I regain feeling in my arms and cover myself. He has seen you naked already…

"I undressed you…no point in hiding the goods anymore.", he says nonchalantly.

"Force of habit.", I whisper.

After all that was said, I don't have any fight left. I don't even look at him as he wipes me off and helps me dress. Not even as he picks up his shit to go to the gym or wherever.

As he passes by the foot of my bed, I gain enough courage, you can say, to say, "You really mean what you said?"

He pauses midstep, "Always do…I rarely ever sugarcoat shit. Sleep. I'll be back.", he says monotonously.

"My mom isn't dead. She lived with us for a minute—until I was 11…she left us out of nowhere…", Punk stops in his tracks but doesn't turn around, "Not that I ever really needed her though…I blame her, sometimes, for making me this way. You know, 'difficult'. I just don't like to put myself out and have people take advantage and then leave.", he turns around with an unreadable expression, "She's the reason I marched out of Denny's…that woman…she's my mother.", tears fill my eyes…my mother isn't really anything I bring up—that was more of a thing I'd cry to Wes about or when I'm drunk and blame people for mishaps. I stare at Phil and feel like I'm naked again, "Is that good enough to keep you?", I ask like a little girl asking her parent to stay.

(1 HOUR LATER)

Running my finger along the outlines of one of the sleeping man's arms, I lay awake wondering if I, myself, am doing the 'right thing'. I'd gotten him to stay and lay with me just by telling him that little detail. In the beginning I said that he'd only expect more of me than I can give…will he? Will he want me to stop my habits of partying amongst all the booze and drugs? Will he learn of my every secret and use them to manipulate me? Will he be the charmer and use me however he pleases like Noah? Will he, too, walk out when he discovers how damaged a good I am?

The arm pulls me closer to his body and his head snuggles between the crook of my neck and whispers, "Don't worry, I'll be here when you wake up. Sleep, beautiful."