Ah, Miss THE Cara Mascara! This one is for you. Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy. It is a CM Punk heel one-shot using the song you requested from the Little Mermaid. It's not based technically within the WWE, but I hope you like it!
By the way, I own nothing, nor do I believe this is how he is in real life.
Look at this stuff
Isn't it neat?
Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?
Wouldn't you think I'm the girl
The girl who has everything?
Eyes falling on the extensive collection of belts, figures, and shirts before her, Cara sighed angrily. He was out. Again. Not home. Never home. Why would he be home when he's got so many other places to be?
The dirty blond girl pushed a hand through her hair looking around her again. There, on the wall nearby, was a picture of her and her boyfriend. The one and only C.M. Punk. In said picture, they were smiling. His arm was over her shoulder, and she was hugging him. They looked like the ideal happy couple. If people only knew.
Look at this trove
How many wonders can one cavern hold?
Looking around here you think
Sure, she's got everything
Everything she owned filled the room. All the belts, all the figures, all the clothes, everything that was hers was in the very room she slept in. The rest of the house was not hers. But that room was her sanctuary.
Cara took a frame down from the shelf, smiling. It was from the first time she'd met Punk, when he was on his first run as a heel. She'd met him in a local coffee shop, and the two had hit it off. At the end of the night, she'd gotten a signed picture and a kiss on the cheek. She returned it to the shelf, sighing, and eyed the collection around her. Everything anyone would ask for.
I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty
I've got whozits and whatzits galore
You want thingamabobs?
I've got twenty! But who cares?
No big deal. I want more.
Every figure was signed, every picture had a name, each shirt was from a show. They were all worth hundreds, some even more. Smiling at her little corner dedicated to the Undertaker, Cara realized how many people would die for her collection. But her? She'd give it up for her happiness back. For her Punk back.
I wanna be where the people are
I wanna see, wanna see them dancin'
Walking around on those - what do you call 'em?
Oh - feet!
Originally, Punk had been a great person. He was funny, he was sweet, he was romantic. Every girl wished they were her. The two spent each of his nights home together, whether getting dinner, seeing a movie, just going for a walk, whatever. It didn't matter. They were happy.
But as time went on, he changed. He changed into someone she'd never expected to see. As Punk's storyline heel came into real life, he grew controlling. And she was stuck.
Over time, Cara became locked in a place she never thought she'd be. Punk would call every hour to make sure she was home. He'd come home angry and take it out on her. The only thing he'd never done was hit her.
Cara longed for her freedom. She wanted to see people again. The blond stared at her wall, eyes empty. "Why? Why did you do this?"
Flippin' your fins, you don't get too far
Legs are required for jumping, dancing
Strolling along down a - what's that word again?
Anger started pulsing through her as she stared at his name on one of the belts. After a few minutes, she grabbed it and threw it across the room. "Why? What did I do to deserve this?"
The girl went to the window and looked out it, watching people walk, laugh, smile. She hadn't smiled in a long time. "When will I get out there again?"
Up where they walk, up where they run
Up where they stay all day in the sun
Wanderin' free - wish I could be
Part of that world
The front door opened, revealing an angry looking Punk. He walked over to her. "What the hell did you do? What the hell's my belt doing on the floor?"
The girl cringed, picked it up and returned it to its shelf. "I... I'm sorry."
Shaking his head, the man walked over and sat on the bed. "Good. You should be."
Cara looked at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the window. The sun was bright. It was a beautiful day. A day she wouldn't get to enjoy, just like the multitude of others before it.
She jumped when she felt a pair of hands touch her waist. "I'm gonna go out."
The girl looked back at him and nodded. "Okay. Be careful."
He just looked at her for a moment before pressing his lips to hers, and then he left, slamming the door loudly.
Cara opened the curtains, letting the sunlight in. "Wish I was out there..."
What would I give if I could live out of these waters?
What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?
Bet'cha on land they understand
That they don't reprimand their daughters
Proper women sick of swimmin'
Ready to stand
The blond sat on the edge of the bed again, looking at the apartment before her. Was this it? she asked herself. "Is this really all I'm meant for?" She sighed, walking to the door, and opened it. She looked at the people who passed her, some who smiled and others who ignored her completely.
She leaned her head on the doorframe. "I feel like I'm drowning. I feel like he's holding me down, seeing how long I can go without breathing."
She looked up at the clouds. "I don't think I can live like this."
And ready to know what the people know
Ask 'em my questions and get some answers
What's a fire and why does it - what's the word?
Watching several couples pass her by, the girl smiled. "That's what happiness should be, right?" She looked back to the sky. "Love shouldn't hurt, should it?"
She sighed when Punk walked up again from across the street. "Get back in the house Cara. People will ask questions."
The blond rolled her eyes, but retreated and closed the door. She sat on the edge of the window sill, looking out at the world. Drowning. No breath. Nothing new. The world outside was an adventure. It was an exploration. It guaranteed saving. And no more water. A song popped into her head, and she sang the little part she remembered, reveling in the ironic nature of the words.
When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love, love to explore that world up above?
Out of the sea
Wish I could be
Part of that world
I do not in any way think that C.M. Punk is abusive like this, I just went with it for the story, and found that it worked better with the lyrics if I made him that way anyway. Hope you liked it!