A/N: Why is he taking over my brain?!

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Delilah couldn't open her eyes even if she wanted to. Something was keeping them shut. She was stuck in the dark abyss of her mind, and no one could save her. She was being held captive against her own will.

This wasn't her choice. She would never have chosen this. If her life had been up to her, she would have been in the country. She would have a huge white house with blue shutters and a front door to match. She would have a huge yard with bunches of daisies in the garden and a tire swing in the front yard.

She wouldn't be lying in her own bed with her limbs tied to the bedposts.

Delilah was never even allowed to think for herself. Her parents even controlled her thoughts for the most part.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Her body convulsed, shaking violently on the mattress.

Her mother stood above her, smiling down at her only child. "Such a good girl, Delilah. That's my little princess…"

Delilah tried as best as she could to glare at her mother for what she was doing to her. When her father entered the room, her scared eyes turned to him.

"Anne, can't you let her go?" Delilah's father sighed, taking in the sight he had seen one too many times already.

Anne shot daggers at her husband. "Mike! I will not tolerate this!"

Mike flinched as if an electric current ran through his body. "You're right, Anne. This is what is best for Delilah."

Delilah had seen this before. Her father was really sick of her mother's antics, but he couldn't do anything about it. Ever since her miscarriage while pregnant with Delilah's future little sister, Anne had gone to the crazy side…the dark side…

The side of the Devil.

Delilah cowered in fear as her mother bent over her. "This is all your fault, Delilah. Just remember that."


A girl stood in the road in front of CM Punk. A damsel in distress? Maybe. But the odds are it wasn't. It could just be a lost girl…Or a stupid one.

CM Punk was driving alone on a country road just outside of Cleveland, Ohio. He was on his way to the WWE Headquarters in Stamford, Connecticut, for a business meeting to go over his new storyline. Coming from his hometown of Chicago, he was not looking forward to this trip. As much as he loved his job, he hated leaving his home to go to work. It was a rarity that he got to spend any elongated amount of time at home. He needed a distraction.

And this girl was a distraction, at least for now.

He pulled over on the barren and empty road, save for him, his car, and the girl. There weren't many vacationers traveling the road, even though it was the middle of July.

Punk cautiously stepped out of his car and walked up to the girl. This is crazy, he thought to himself. Who randomly stops on a dead road like this? And to talk to some creepy chick who was just standing there?

She wasn't as scary as he originally thought. At first glance, she looked like Samara from "The Ring" right before she crawls out of the television screen. But at a closer view, she looked very much unlike a zombie girl who had escaped from a well.

Yes, her dark hair was unruly, but that could have been from the wind. Her blue eyes were very bright and her lips weren't pale. However, her skin was. It was almost white.

"Er…" Punk wasn't quite sure how to start. He had never done something like this before. "Are you hurt?"

The girl looked up from the ground at into his eyes. "Hello."

"I, uh…"

"No, I'm not hurt. But thank you for your kindness. I am a bit lost, though." The girl spoke fluidly, and if Punk was sure of himself, he thought that this sounded a bit rehearsed.

"How the heck do you get lost here on your own?"

"My family's car broke down miles away and they sent me to find someone for help."

"All by yourself?" Punk was taken aback. This girl couldn't be more than eighteen years old. A girl like that would get eaten alive by the predators of the world.

A gentle gust of wind blew past them. A few strands of hair blew over the girl's eyes. "Yes. All by myself. I'm twenty-four. I think I can handle myself."

"Well…can I help you?" CM Punk was a kind man, and he was sure this innocent girl wouldn't hurt him. She looked too sweet and fragile to be harmful. And even if she tried, he was a professional wrestler. He was pretty sure he could take a skinny twenty-four year old girl.

"Can you drive me back to my family?"

"Where are they?"

The girl pointed back behind her. "A couple miles that way. They're next to a fallen down tree. It was blocking our path."

"I can drive you over there, if you'd like. What's your name?"

"Thank you, sir. My name is Delilah." Delilah smiled politely at CM Punk. "And your name?"

"Phi—Punk. Call me Punk," he answered, extending out his hand, which Delilah shook. "Well, this would be my car…"

Go with him. Go with him! the voice in Delilah's head demanded.