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He opened his eyes, his mouth so incredibly dry. Tired... He was very much so as he sat up in the hotel bed.
Glancing around the room, the man felt quite disoriented. He noticed the lump in the bed beside him, completely covered by the blanket. And since when did she sleep like that? He knew she tended to feel claustrauphobic with the covers over her head, and as though she couldn't breathe.
It was so odd... He could swear the room looked completely different! As he kept peering around, he knew he wasn't imagining it.
For a moment, he wondered if he was in fact still asleep and only dreaming. Foolishly, he pinched his own cheek, but no - he wasn't dreaming.
Again, he turned to stare at the blanketed form of the woman still asleep beside him. Something awfully strange was happening, and he wanted to be sure he wasn't the only one who felt that way. He reached over and shook the woman, not even noticing his arm.
"Hey... Baby, wake up."
"Mmm..." The woman stirred and began to turn over, and the blanket slowly came down to reveal her face.
His blood ran cold and his heart damn near stopped... It wasn't Ashley who'd been asleep beside him.
"What the...!"
Maryse smiled sleepily as she gazed up at him.
"Good morning, baby." She reached a hand over to him, but he recoiled in horror, as though she were poison - which, of course, she was, come to think of it.
"What the hell is going on?!" he yelled.
The platinum blonde gave him an odd look.
"What's the matter?" she questioned in her heavily-accented voice. "Oh, I know... A hangover. We did party a little too much last night, no?" She emitted a throaty laugh. "Come 'ere, baby."
CM Punk ignored the diva and instead made a mad dash for the bathroom. He nearly tripped on Maryse's heels on the way there.
Once inside, he shut and locked the door, then stood directly in front of the mirror over the sink.
With eyes so wide, he thought they could pop out of his head, he stared with disbelief. He shook his head, telling himself it couldn't be... It simply couldn't! The reflection staring back at him was not his own...
... It was Edge.
"This isn't happening," he said aloud. "It can't be happening." But the fact that he was hearing the Rated R Superstar's voice, and not his own, freaked him out even more, because it told him otherwise. This truly was happening, and he was not dreaming, hallucinating or imagining this.
How was this even possible?
Punk stared into his - or rather, Edge's - eyes and blinked, uncomprehending this seemingly impossible phenomenon. What happened to his own body? He stared at his reflection, taking everything in - all the tattoos, scars, features, hair and everything else that wasn't his own that belonged to his enemy.
"Hey." Maryse briefly knocked, but then let herself into the bathroom and came up behind him. "Are you okay, Edge? You don't seem like yourself zis morning."
Lady, you don't know the half of it, he thought. He glanced at the statuesque blonde behind him in their reflections in the mirror, trying not to shrink away as her hands suddenly touched him. He knew he had no choice but to play along and pretend to be Edge. If he didn't, and if he carried on like he'd initially done in the bed, people would think he was crazy. Of course, that was precisely what this entire situation was, but who the hell would believe him if he said he was CM Punk when he looked like this?
Fear swept through him as he suddenly thought about Ashley. What was happening to his girlfriend right at that moment? What if she was in their hotel room, all alone with the Rated R Superstar? What the hell would he do to her? He tried his best to not panic, but it was so difficult.
*
Edge awoke to the annoying sound of a woman humming. At first, he tried to ignore it, shoving his head under a pillow to drown out the noise as best he could - but it didn't work.
Who the hell was making that racket, anyway? It didn't sound like Maryse's voice. He wondered if a chambermaid had been stupid enough to come into the room to clean before he'd even gotten up.
Finally, annoyed more than ever, as the humming continued, the man raised his head to shout at the offender. As it turned out, there was no maid in the room. He caught sight of someone else, though, and thought he was losing his mind. Shaking his head, he rubbed at his eyes, then focused again.
Ashley Massaro, pink, black and blonde hair and all, was listening to her iPod and humming along to a tune as she packed her suitcase nearby. What in hell's name was she doing there?
He was speechless as he watched her, his gaze traveling to the curve of her ass as she swayed a bit to the music. She was wearing one of her typical micro-miniskirts, and he had to admit, she was cute. As he continued to study her, she suddenly turned.
"Oh, hey! Good morning," she said cheerily. A bright smile dominated her face, and she paused her iPod, stepping over to him. She bent over to brush a light kiss across his lips. He was too surprised to even respond. What the hell was going on?
"I didn't know you were up," Ashley continued. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
He blinked, staring at her as though she were an alien with five heads. Aside from the fact that the Punk Princess was here and his French-Canadian girlfriend was not, the room appeared different to him as well.
"What the hell are you doing here?!"
The diva frowned as she stared at him. That hurt a little. In the months she'd been dating Punk, he'd never once spoken to her so harshly.
"Wh-What?" she asked timidly.
"Is this a joke? Or am I having a really, really bad hangover?" he asked, mostly to himself.
Ashley cocked her head, eyeing him strangely.
"What are you talking about? You know you don't drink, silly!"
That statement caused the man to narrow his eyes. He bolted up out of the bed and pushed past the blonde en route to the bathroom.
Ashley watched him with confusion as he slammed the door behind him and shrugged. So, he'd gotten up on the
wrong side of the bed... It happened. She turned back to her bag to continue packing but nearly jumped out of her
skin a moment later as he let out a scream from the bathroom.