so so long, but a lot of dialogue and a little sloppy so apologies, Phoebe isn't backing down and Punk isn't either, loving you guys, thanks for supporting!
CM Punk had just won the championship, he stood victorious in the ring. CM Punk was a true Superstar, the straight edge superstar in every sense of the word. There was no such thing as face or heel with him, the fans adored him and like him or not, the other talent in the back knew he was the real day, they respected him, he was an indie guy, the indie guy. He was the underdog of the company winning over the babyface John Cena, he now had everything…fame, a beautiful girlfriend, money that came in bucket loads every week, a lifetime supply of Pepsi and most importantly tickets to a gig every weekend. He even had the respect for Cena, who was lying motionless beneath him on the floor of the ring. Punk had it all now. Wrapping the championship belt around his torso, he strolled out of the ring and jumped into the middle of the crowd, the fans screaming inside his eardrums, patting him on the back, many just trying to get a glimpse of him. Thousands called out his name in unison but only one particular voice stood out from the crowd.
"You little piece of shit…"
The voice was so aggressive and so familiar, barely audible but at the same time it stung, and reality had slowly kicked in. He managed to get up, still sore from the match he looked up, swivelling his head everywhere to put a face to the voice. He began squinting his eyes while scanning the sea of people, he could only make out a man who stood by himself, not cheering with the rest of the WWE Universe, but staring blankly at Punk, a scowl forming.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Why are you here? What's going on?"
"You can't wrestle for shit! You'll never amount to anything you bastard, you were a mistake, me and your mother never wanted you," he pointed a shaky, fat finger at Punk, clutching a bottle of Jack in his other hand.
Punk was speechless. Frozen.
"Get – out – of – my - head," he shook his head. "You are not real," he spoke through gritted teeth.
"I am real you son of a bitch. I didn't want you, your mother didn't want you, Amy didn't want you. You're a loser Phil, you always have been, should've kicked you out of the house a long time ago…"
"For fuck's sake, STOP!"
"$20,000 cheque or your mother kills herself …"
"Go away! She's not my mother, stop with the empty threats!"
"Matt was a better lover than you Phil, he cared about me, he always put me ahead of his career, he wanted a future with me with children, he was better in bed then you ever were, he doesn't snap at me, scream or shout, he wants me, and I want him, now no one will ever want you, you carry too much baggage, no one will know how to take care of you except me…" the voice had changed to a female's, but it was crystal clear, he knew exactly who this was, and he already felt tears burning into his skin.
"How could you do this to me Amy…"
"Liar! This is all your fault! You did this to me! You did this! How could you let this happen?"
Her voice became louder, a disgusting sneer so loud that Punk's eyes screwed shut, his hands covering his ears and his legs had suddenly turned to jelly. He let out a scream, however hard he tried to cover the sound it still got louder and louder. The number of voices increased from his mother to his older brother to the bullies at school, it was getting more and more intense. His head pounded and the sounds from the crowd turned from cheers to abuse. Till eventually one voice became clear, "From the first day I came to this company, you made my life here hell, I would cry knowing I would have to come here every day and work for you. I never did anything to you except serve you and be you assistant but you, you kept coming at me trying to break me, hurt me. Well mission accomplished Punk. You can apologize all you want because your words mean nothing to me. You mean nothing to me."
Everything became dark, everything had closed in on him.
"NO! NO! NO!"
CM Punk's eyes shot open, his body had jerked upright in such speed he almost toppled out of bed, raging sweat poured out of his body at a sickening pace, his shirt was drenched and so was his entire forehead. Not had a nightmare like that in a long time.
"Phil! Phil, what the fuck man, are you alright?"
Punk took a minute to readjust himself, his eyes were still seeing sparks from his reoccurring nightmare and he hadn't gotten used to his surroundings yet, blinking a couple of times his eyes darted around the room, he noticed that the television was still on and that a comic book was lying flat on his chest. Checking his phone he noticed it was still night time and he literally did not know where he was, since he was still on his tour bus, alone in his tiny, compact bedroom. He was obliged to adopt the tour bus as his second home. Vinnie had pulled out all the stops and had gotten Punk a top of the range bus, bunks enough for 6 people, red leather seats and a double bed with a flat screen already built in. Not to mention he had his own shower.
Glancing behind him he he looked up to see where the voice was coming from, a broad figure was stood in the door way in basketball shorts and a vest shirt. It was Kofi. However lonely Punk felt in his bed, isolated in his 5 star tour bus bedroom he knew he always had Kofi, and whenever Kofi wasn't around for some reason, Colt would be there in virtual form. Kofi and Punk were a perfect pair, just like him and Scott the two had clicked – and with Kofi's dreads and Jamaican roots and Punk's deep, red tint eye bags and heavily tattooed arms, they were always teasing police officers whenever they got asked to pull over. They knew they looked like they knew how to make some pretty good meth.
The pair had met at OVW, he was someone who didn't actually get on his nerves in the locker room, not to mention he made an excellent road wife and game player on the Xbox. He wasn't here just for the money, Kofi actually appreciated wrestling and he knew his boundaries, most importantly Kofi knew how to tolerate Punk. Punk was bad-tempered and moody and sarcastic and at most times, intense, violent and quite frightening. But Kofi was his friend , and Kofi knew things were spiralling out of control for Punk, this was the first time he had Punk call out in the middle of the night, and he was literally drenched in sweat. It scared Kofi inside, he had never seen this side to him, therefore he didn't know how to act around him.
Punk was heartbroken, mentally abused, betrayed and was denied any friendship from Phoebe.
"I'm fine," he said gruffly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, his heart still hadn't calmed down. He was feeling claustrophobic.
"You're sweating," Kofi piped up.
"I know."
"The bed is soaked," he observed, pointing at pool that had grown on the bed sheets.
"I'm fine Kofi, godamnit what else do you want me to say!"
"You're not fine Punk! You've not been fine for weeks! You'd be stupid not to realise that! Maybe you should call Scott, maybe head back to Chicago, you know?"
"Maybe you should shut the hell up!"
He took that last sentence as a cue to actually shut up, he could take a hint. He silently padded back to his bunk, slamming the door in the process. Punk knew he'd regret that later but he could literally feel the walls closing in on him, similarly to his dream. Everything was silent except the steady rhythm of the bus on the highway beneath him. They clanked and stirred, and Punk hugged his knees wishing he could just go back to sleep again, and wished that this was all a dream. As lame as that sounded, he wished everything would just disappear. The divorce papers had arrived that very morning, delivered like every other post in front of every WWE Superstar, everything was quiet but sirens were flashing within Punk's head. His life was a dump. Maybe Kofi was right maybe Punk should go back to Chicago again.
Without hesitation Punk grabbed his IPhone from the nightstand and speed dialled Scott's number, he realised that it was two in the morning however after 3 rings he heard the phone click.
"Hello?" came a sleepy murmur, Punk's face lighting up already.
"Hey ya big meatball."
Punk could hear Colt's smile through the phone, "Don't you have a match tomorrow, shouldn't you be asleep …"
"Batman doesn't sleep."
"Batman doesn't wrestle."
"I needed to talk to you," Punk sighed.
"Why, what's wrong? What's happened?" Colt's voice oozed concern for his best friend.
"I don't know, I don't want to talk about it, but – I just needed a familiar voice," Punk whispered, after a few seconds of thinking about what to say next Punk spoke again. "I miss Chicago."
"Phil, did you just woke up from a nightmare?" he asked worriedly.
"How did you know?"
"You sound … scared, you used to get them when we first met I remember."
"When did you notice they were gone?"
"When you met Maria."
"Jeez." Punk couldn't help but chuckle, his theory was proved right – he truly was alone. Phoebe's words ran through his head again, "Punk you're doing this because you've lost everything, the only thing you have left is your job, you've lost the love of your life, you've lost the respect of your fellow companions, they just feel sorry for you."
"You still there?"
"You remember Phoebe right?"
"The ugly cunt who was totally in love with you and was trying to convince you that Amy was cheating on you. She was also a fucking suit that stalked you and couldn't leave you alone. You wished she just get hit by a truck, you wouldn't shut up about her to be honest, yeah I remember. What about her?"
Punk rolled his eyes, he knew exactly what Scott was doing and it still pained him, he remembered every single thing he said about Phoebe; to her face and behind her back.
"Don't be a dick man."
"I'm sorry," Scott chuckled into the receiver. "Have you apologised yet, I know you're not too good at that shit."
"I tried, pleaded, I was so close to begging on two feet, but she wasn't convinced. She said a lot of things, and you know that I don't take things personally but – "
"You can't stop now Phil. You really hurt her you know, anything that she said, you probably deserved. Probably didn't mean it, you need to really charm her you know."
"She doesn't want to know, she doesn't want to listen to me Scott. I know I was a dick and I don't know why it's bothering me so much. I just…"
"Maybe it's best to leave her to it then?"
"She's writing my storyline, I see her like three times a week, it's impossible to avoid her, it's impossible to not talk to her."
"You gotta work the charm Punk, you gotta do what you gotta do. She's probably just as stubborn as you are you know, put yourself in her shoes. What would it take for you to forgive someone if they did that to you."
"I wouldn't forgive them," Punk mumbled, which Scott heard perfectly well. Punk stared aimlessly at the television.
"I don't know what to tell you hunny."
"Thanks anyway, babes," Punk smirked as he bit onto his lip ring, the amount of times people had assumed him and Colt were a gay couple was ridiculous, why not egg those people on, they both thought.
"Never change Punk, make sure that girl knows how sorry you are. Don't let her words eat at you, okay buddy?"
"I miss you, brother," he quietly admitted.
"I miss you too, so do the sisters and Mama Chez. Marty says hi and so does Luke and Nattie."
Punk swallowed hard. "Speak later."
"Night." The phone clicked and the call had ended, silence had yet again engulfed him. In a couple hours they would be arriving in the next city for Monday Night Raw.
Barefoot and now clad only in his boxer briefs, Punk got onto his feet and started walking outside of his room in the dark, Punk had stumbled into the bunk part of the bus. Looking around, he saw Kofi's body lounged on the coach.
"You know I don't mean to be a dick Kofi," Punk started.
"Then don't be one. Simple."
Kofi brushed pashed him and placed himself inside one of the beds, shutting the curtain as fast as he could. "Don't Kofi, please. I'm sick of losing people in my life – "
"Stop pushing people away!"
"I don't – mean to. I'm sorry Kofi, realities kicking in, you know. I don't mean to play the "recently divorced" card but I am. I'm missing home, I don't really want to get into it but I'm not making excuses I just need to sort some shit out. I just … don't know how, you know. I don't know."
"I'm not a fucking doormat Punk, look I'll just to speak to you in the morning." Punk returned back to his room, he was feeling terrible and yeah he deserved it. He deserved everything it was simple. Just like Colt had said, just like Phoebe had said.
Words had hurt him so many times before, way back when he was just a child, a teenager and still now, but never once did he think what it was like for other people. Especially someone like Phoebe. She looked so shaken up yesterday, so frustrated, so tried. She had built up a wall between himself and her and she was so definite about keeping that wall up. Amy had promised him once that she's never leave and that she'd never stop loving him, those words now hurt him so much. He had given her his heart and he had crushed it, likewise Punk had done that to Phoebe, treating her like a piece of shit. They say whenever you truly loved someone, when you made love to someone, a piece of your soul would always be with them.
Raw had rolled around and a production meeting was being held just before the show, Punk was set to shoot a promo and would then be interrupted by Triple H and then again by John Laurinitis, the match had been extremely brutal and Punk was extremely beat up. Triple H had won, therefore meaning that he was still COO but with the involvement of Miz, R-Truth and the "conspiracy theory" had stirred the storyline into a slightly different direction. The creative team soon suddenly realised that Punk had the crowd eating in the palm of his hand. Although he had been complaining about how injured he was however he was still competing in a tag team main event match with John Cena vs The Awesome Truth. Phoebe had to admit she had the upmost respect for these wrestlers, she had sat down and watched the entire pay-view but then noticed that just the next day all of the most, most of them were scheduled to be wrestling again the day after. How they did it she'd never know. When she was Punk's assistant she hated seeing him suffer, it would mean that he was usually crabby and moody but also in so much pain.
But things had been going much better ever since she became a creative writer, sure nothing was going on for her in the relationship department however when the WWE Superstars had realised that she was no longer following Punk's orders many of them had introduced themselves to her, which made her feel all the more welcome. She had been too relieved and happy to be skeptical of their actions but the genuine and accepting behaviour had continued and the tension free backstage environment soon become normal. All she had to do was avoid Punk at all costs, it just didn't help that she had to write his storylines.
11:30pm
The show had ended and the superstars and diva's began filing out of the building as well as the fans, "Hey Phoebs, we're getting a drink, you wanna come along?" Nick asked, waving as Phoebe was gathering the last of her belongings.
Phoebe looked up and grinned. "I'd love too."
Phoebe smiled to herself. It was a nice feeling, she thought as she wheeled her luggage out to the dark and emptied parking lot. For the first time she was actually fitting in and making friends, it had been ages since she had gone out, she was so used to just staying back at her hotel, work, sleep, eat, breathe … cry.
Drinks were all around but Phoebe immediately regretted coming to the club, her head was already pounding and she realised that Nick didn't want to just get a drink, in fact he wanted to drink and party hard with his new girlfriend Amy Schumer. She was stunning and beautiful and incredibly funny and witty, all Nick ever wanted in a girl. I was dull, plain, pale and boring with a disturbing sense of humour. Phoebe stared aimlessly at the couple as Amy began grinding upon Nick, it wasn't totally outrageous and abnormal every other couple in the club was doing it, just the look on Nick's face enjoying the pleasure made it all the more harder for Phoebe to watch. She had a soft spot for him, ever since there first run in, it was always there. It was then she decided to order herself a martini or two, anything to make her stop feeling so sorry for herself.
Somewhat later after a couple of glasses of god knows what, she was feeling slightly buzzed and at ease, comfortable with the colleagues she was with but the clock had reached just over 1am, she didn't bother waiting for the Nick and Amy, and decided to stumble her way outside into the crisp, cool air.
"Wow, oh my god you work for the WWE!? That's awesome!" Phoebe hadn't even noticed but a group of fans seemed to have been hanging around the club, looking down she noticed her ID was still clipped to her blouse.
"Yeah. Hi, I guess you're fans right?" Phoebe slurred.
"So where you heading babes?" One of the guys asked, a couple snickered but Phoebe decided to let the "babes" slide.
"Heading back to my hotel where I need to sleep this alcohol off," she chucked uncomfortably.
"You look hungry, wanna grab something to eat?"
"That's very considerate of you but I'm pretty sure there are a slot of diva's in the club you could be hitting on right now instead of someone like me," someone they could beat the shit out of as well, Phoebe thought bitterly as the buzz of alcohol stopped, and for a slight second she had begun to sense fear.
"We don't want those fake good-for-nothing whores." Phoebe did not like where this was going.
"I guarantee you that those women are not whores."
"That's okay, because we like tight little girls like you, I bet you're a virgin." To this the group snickered, Phoebe felt herself beginning to choke up as one of the guys reached out to touch her arm. Phoebe flinched as fast as she could trying to avoid any contact with any of the men, god knows where they had been, what they had been doing.
"Please, I – I don't want any trouble," Phoebe backed away, her mind was still throbbing from the martini's but her heart began thumping against her chest.
"It's okay babe, we'll go easy on you. We won't hurt you, we'll go nice and slow," horrified Phoebe turned to leave, but the men we not letting her get away that easy as one of the larger framed guys stood in her way.
"Can you please just leave me alone? What do you want from me?" she shuddered, shaking with fear and frustration.
"I think you know what we want, you might look like a virgin but I bet you feel amazing."
"No! Stop it," Phoebe cried as she felt a hand grab her by the waist, snaking around as they tried to grab her meanwhile she was elbowing the man, trying to find some sort of escape.
Another approached her, and Phoebe could only squint her eyes as she lashed out, kicked at whoever had hold of her. She feared that this would be the end of her innocence, the innocence she had kept hold of for so long, and she feared that within minutes she would be abused and thrown away to the side like a piece of trash.
"What the fuck?" she heard someone speak behind her.
Phoebe still couldn't open her eyes, her heart was still in her mouth but when she heard another voice, she knew who it was. Of course it was him, here to save the day, typical modern day Batman to become the hero, CM Punk.
"What the fuck is going on here?" Punk demanded.
Phoebe's eyes cracked open, his face was cold and hard, eyes icy and angry, his body language was stiff and tense as she noticed his biceps practically bulging out of his t-shirt.
"None of your goddamn business, you fucking pussy," one said.
The other had the nerve to grin.
"Are you shitting me you sick piece of fuck? Manhandling a woman, who the fuck do you think you are. Get her hands off her before I kick your teeth in, you illiterate fuck. How dare you out your filthy hands on a woman?"
Punk was seething and Phoebe felt the grip loosen on her waist and arms.
"Look, man, we were just playing around…"
"It didn't look like playing to me!" Punk yelled. "I suggest you get the fuck out of here before I rip you to shreds, and if I ever hear or see you around here again, disrespecting and being rude to another woman, just remember, that no one will miss your bodies while they're gone."
With that, he punched the leader of the group, right in the centre of the nose, Phoebe heard Punk wince but the blood began gushing out of his nose.
Punk stepped closer towards them, towering over them. "Listen to me, you disrespectful bastard. I don't know where you get off by putting your hands on women or trying to force yourself on them , but no means no, I hate goddamn pussies like you, you're the reason women commit suicide, you're the reason they fear to even walk around in public. Apologize," he directed. "Now!"
"We're sorry," they mumbled.
Punk stomped his feet sending them the message that "if they don't get the fuck out of here he was going to torture one of them, slowly and painfully" to that they all ran separate ways, knowing that neither one of them would be able to handle CM Punk.
"Oh god," Phoebe cried as she clutched her chest, feeling a tight pain.
"Hey, hey, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?" Punk turned to face Phoebe, reaching out to touch her face.
Phoebe recoiled, her hair becoming a curtain for her face, "I'm fine."
She picked up her bags and started walking away. "Phoebe, wait up, Phoebe!"
"Leave me alone, Punk, godamnit" she growled not even bothering to turn around, not even bothering to thank him.
"Don't be a bitch Phoebe I was trying to see if you were okay, clearly you're not okay."
"I just told you I was fine, now fuck off."
She had an attitude that was starting to surprise him. He had been on his way to grab a quick drink with some of the guys, and noticed Phoebe sat subdued with a drink in her hand, staring at Dolph and his new girlfriend. He knew the look she was giving them, it was the exact same look he had one when he was looking at her. Eventually she left without saying goodbye to anyone and after a Pepsi later he thought it was time to hit the hay too. That was when he came outside and saw and heard the commotion outside. The more he heard the angrier he was getting, the conversation was disturbing and it made him livid. He knew the guys were scum and he immediately had to save her so to speak.
"I just saved your ass from those assholes. God knows what they were going to do to you. I would've hated to think what would've happened if I wasn't here."
She finally stopped, feeling like he had struck a nerve.
"What do you want Punk, for god's sake?"
His brow furrowed as he scowled at her. "A thank you would be nice."
She scoffed, clearly finding this hilarious as she turned her back and decided to walk back to her hotel. "That's great Phoebe, fucking great," he grumbled.
"You have some fucking nerve Punk. Sure you never tried to initiate sex with me or tried to manhandle me like a filthy animal but what those guys just did, was you a couple of months ago. You were the disrespectful asshole treating me like dirt, harassing me for no reason when all I wanted to do was try and help you and be a good assistant. You just couldn't let it go and you had to keep pushing and pushing all my buttons."
"Phoebe -"
"You're trash Punk. I appreciate the fact that you were here today, but guess what. I still fucking hate your guts. You will never gain my respect back, and yeah, you know what, I'd hate to think what those guys would've done to me if you hadn't been here. But, anything, anything is better than talking to you. I hate seeing you face when I come into work, I hate seeing your face when I see you on Monday Night Raw. Do not think for a second that I'm just going to forgive you because you swooped in and saved my ass. No way, you can fuck off Punk."
Her voice was loud even though no one was around to her here, her face had grown angry and she was 100% serious. Deciding it was better not to argue, Punk bit back any sort of retort he was thinking of saying back. He stood and watched as she safely hailed a cab back to the hotel. He took a shaky breath and exhaled, he was exhausted but then again he loved running into her. He loved seeing her face almost every da. When she wasn't around Punk would feel somewhat lonely and even emptier. He hadn't been prepared for what her reaction would be but never did he expect it to be that.. It sting him so badly, he would never in a million years think to put a hand on a woman, yet here she was 5"2 little petite woman claiming that CM Punk was exactly like those dickheads that were just harassing her 5 minutes ago. Punk knew she was wrong, he would prove her wrong. He was not like those guys. Maybe Colt was right, maybe it was better to just stay away from her. Punk was just having a hard time doing so.