The Hidden Life of AJ Lee

Chapter 18- Control

AJ Lee's POV
One Week Later

Why? I could have had so many other problems. I could have been too tall, I could have had huge feet, I could have had two different color eyes. Why was I given this problem?

These thoughts crossed my mind as I laid curled up in the sheets of CM Punk's bed. It was mid day and Punk was out running, so I was in the house alone. He'd warned me that if I wasn't out of bed by the time he got home, he'd personally take care of my stubborn attitude. Guess I was in for it when he got home.

It wasn't as if I didn't want to get out of bed. I just... couldn't. My heart was aching with ever passing day and I felt as if I was slowly falling into a depression again. I didn't want to be in another one.

Not like last time.

I thought of my divas title. I'd been thinking of that a lot lately. But mainly, I worried. What if I could never go back? What if Stephanie didn't let me return to get back at me and my sharp tongue? What if Punk got sick of me and threw me out on the streets, with no job to get by?

I covered my head with one of the pillows that was lazily tossed on the bed. I just wanted to go back to sleep, to try to dream of a world where Punk and I could run out into the streets and just be ourselves as drops of rain fell down, a world where he didn't have to worry about me always being happy and mentally ok.

As I pulled the pillow away from my head and embraced it against my chest, I heard the faint unlocking of the front door. I didn't feel like climbing out of the mountains of covers I was tangled up in, so I simply waited for him to find me. Within seconds, he did.

Punk saw me and sighed. I buried my face in my pillow. I soon felt the bed shift and his fingers stroked my hair. "You gonna get out of bed?"

I let out a deep breathe. "I don't want to." My words were barely above a whisper. Then his voice filled the empty space again.

"AJ, are you ok?" Punk asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I really don't know. I feel like..." I didn't want to finish my sentence, ashamed of what he might think. Punk just continued at his attempts to comfort me, eventually moving his hands to my back and rubbing delicate circles.

"I've never been good at stuff like this," he said. "Comforting people, trying to cheer them up-"

"Don't worry about me," I stated. "Please, don't think I'm some high priority. I've-" my lie caught in my throat, but it slipped out anyway, "I've managed before."

Punk gently grabbed my shoulder, turning me on my back and forcing me to look at him. "Tell me what's wrong so I can try to help. I really don't want you in a downer mood while you live with me because that's no fun for either of us."

Not willing to fight resistance anymore, I propped my body up with my elbows. "I feel like I'm falling into a depression. A bad one."

"How long have you been assuming that?"

"A few days."

"How do you know?"

I've had one before. "Just feels weird, you know."

His fingers ran over his facial features until they gripped his hair. "Well, I really don't need you in a depression."

"I really don't need me in one either," I replied. He smirked.

"I'm gonna help you. We're gonna figure out a way to get this disorder under control that way you don't have to be worrying about stuff like this all the time."