CHAPTER ONE

They call me crazy. Maybe I am, but so what? Maybe that's just me.

Skip, skip, skip… Skip, skip, skip… Skip, skip…

"April?" Phil calls to me. I look up at my husband. The world knows him as C.M. Punk. They also know me as that, it seems, because that's all they chant when I come out to perform anymore. I think I need to get some new ring gear that says "That's Not My Name" or pull a Dolph Ziggler and introduce myself to every single person I meet every single time I meet them. ("My name… Is… A… J… Lee!") I mean, it worked pretty well for Zigglypuff, right?

"Babe?" Phil calls again.

I return to Planet Earth and look at him, the man I love, the man who has completely and totally destroyed my career because I married him. It's not Phil's fault. Well, maybe it is, I'm not really sure anymore. He wasn't thinking about what walking away from WWE would do to my career when he did it. He was sick. The business was killing him. I get that, and I respect that he left. I totally supported him, one-hundred-and-ten percent. The problem is he can't let things go. And he keeps pissing the McMahon family off. It's not a storyline. It's real life, and it's my real life at that.

"Yeah, Babe?" I reply. I'm clearly not focused on the conversation. My head is elsewhere, and he can tell I'm distracted, but he lets it go.

"Everything okay?" He asks.

"Fine," I say.

"You're mad again."

"Not at you."

"What happened?"

"They're just giving me a hard time, is all." I don't have to tell them who "they" are. He knows damn well what I'm talking about.

"I'm sorry, Babe."

But is he? I'm not sure. He doesn't act like he is, not when he keeps making them angrier. I mean, he recently sent them a letter threatening to sue them. You don't threaten to sue a McMahon. It just isn't done. They eat lawsuits for breakfast.

"April? You keep disappearing on me."

"Sorry. I'm just tired," I tell him. And I am. I'm tired of all of this. I'm tired of my new role in the WWE as the wife of the guy who walked out. I used to be A.J. Lee, the crazy and totally awesome Diva's Champion. Now I'm just Mrs. C.M. Punk. And it kind of stinks.

Skip, skip, skip… Skip, skip…

"I should get some sleep," I say. I put down the comic book I've been attempting to focus on and rush into our bedroom before he can say anything else to me. I just can't deal with him right now. I need some space.