A/N: We have now reached the end of our story. Or have we?

DISCLAIMER: I only own my characters.

Epilogue

3 months later…

The man who led me away was a cop. I was arrested and charged with disturbing the peace, reckless behavior and reckless endangerment. I was assigned a court appointed attorney. I pled not guilty and jumped bail.

My father was charged with battery, assault, and reckless behavior. The charges were dropped to a misdemeanor. He paid a $5000 fine and ordered to complete 300 hours of community service as well as attend 30 hours of Anger Management classes. He is indefinitely suspended from the WWE pending further investigation.

Colt suffered a skull fracture and needed surgery. He was fired from the WWE. He is currently in rehab, hoping to make a comeback on the Indy scene.

Punk recovered from his injuries. He has a restraining order against my father.

Jericho is now a jobber for the WWE. He is expected to leave the WWE soon and rejoin his band, Fozzy, on a European tour.

The bus ride from El Paso to Austin was a blur. I slept through most of it, coming off of a two day high. The damn highs weren't so high any more.

I woke up as the bus driver pulled into the station. He swirled in his seat and stared at me. It was the same stare he gives me every time I step on the bus.

I dragged my bag off the bus. Coming off a high makes me weaker than hell. It isn't saying much since everything I own is in this bag.

Everything.

I wonder aimlessly through the bus station. I have no direction anymore. I never know where I'm going. My nose began to sting. I looked down and saw blood on my jacket cuff.

I actually found the bathroom in this bottomless pit. I looked in the mirror and see nothing but raw tissue and blood.

My lighter was stolen and I was forced to snort my coke in the bus station bathroom last night waiting for the bus to arrive.

I walked out the bathroom and start wondering around again. People are giving me the same stares the bus driver gave me and are finding ways to avoid me.

I find a bench and sit down. I can't lift my bag onto the bench. It's still too heavy. I lie down.

Someone shakes me. "Get your sorry druggie ass off this damn bench!" some cop scolds. I hadn't realized I fell asleep.

My life is shit.

I start running down the street. I run until I can't breathe anymore.

I score some pure cocaine that night. I can't snort it because my nose won't let me. For another fee I light up with the dealer and inject it into my arms. I feel the relief pour through my veins.

I am numb.

I know I can't stay. I know they are looking for me.

I make it to the bus station.

I ask to buy the cheapest ticket available.

I stiff the sales girl. She doesn't care.

I board a bus for Orlando, Florida. It's nearly twelve hours away yet it seems so close.

Nothing is good enough anymore.

The bus takes off into the dark night. Barely anyone else is on the bus. I slip into the bathroom and hide my cocaine in my rectum. I divide the rest of the money and stick it in different places.

I go back to my seat. There is nothing but endless dark miles ahead of me.

Nothing is left but despair.