Part One: Intro

A Chapter by ToAlexandria

Part of of my story inspired by Fun's "Some Nights" album.

There are some points in your life where everything just feels like its crashing down, and you really need to take a step back an reassess where you are, what you've become, and the things you have done.

I've had a lot of time to "soul search" these past few days.

I guess I should start at the beginning.

I remember one night, a few months back now, coming home rather inebriated. Now, before I go on, I'd just like to say that I was having a bad week. And I mean, it was one of those weeks where the crap just kept on piling up. I don't really blame myself for the things I did. Any, shall we say, unstable person can be just as prone to snapping when that last shovel of s**t is piled on just a bit to high.

"You can't be serious." I would say.

"I'm sorry, Nathan, but I just can't do this anymore. One minute, you're the sweet guy I fell in love with, the next you're out drinking yourself into a stooper, and I don't know when, or if, you'll even make it back. I just... I can't take this stress. Not on top of school, and my job, and-" I would cut her off.

"There you go again! Is this what this is really about? You hate your f*****g job, so you pick stupid little things to be a b***h about, because you don't have the backbone to quit?" I would yell.

"It's not a matter of backbone, I just can't afford-!" I would cut her off again.

"You have been pissy about that damn job since you started. 'Whaaa, boss is meaaaaaan. The other shitsacks (as I would so delicately call her coworkers) all take advantage of me. WHAAAAA. I CAN'T QUIT BECAUSE MY DAD TOOK THE LAST OF MY DIGNITY."

Admittedly, a low-blow.

It left her stunned.

All I had to do was bring her to the floor.

"Don't think for a second," I would say real softly like. I grabbed her chin and spoke through the teeth I grit in fury. "Don't think for a second that you can just walk out that door." I let her go. But I wasn't gentle about it. She was silent for a moment as I walked out of the kitchen.

Of course, she would note the whiskey bottle I grabbed on the way out.

"Of course. You're going to go drink more? Is that it? Get so shitfaced you'll wake up tomorrow on the bathroom floor in a puddle of your own piss?"

"F**K YOU." I would respond.

I spun around on my heal.

She would later describe the intensity of my emotions like a "burning Hellion."

"NO. F**k you, Nathan Rockefeller. I have spent the last five years watching you destroy yourself, and I'm not letting you take me down with you any longer." She rebounded rather adamantly. "I'm packing tomorrow morning, and I'll be gone before you finish your nine A.M. scotch, you filth."

"I!" I would shout.

"AM A WONDERFUL F*****G PERSON. And you aren't leaving. You CAN'T leave."

"F**k you." She would mutter as she tried to get past me.

I snapped.

I grabbed the bottle of whiskey by the neck, swinging my arm down in front of her, the bottle smashing against the counter.

"You f*****g b***h! Did I stutter? Do you have a hearing issue? I told you you're not going anywhere! Sit your a*s back down and shut up!"

"Make me." She said sharply.

Oh boy, I was hoping she'd say that.

Then came the punches.

The pounding.

The bruises and bloody knuckles.

But hey. She was back in the chair, and at least now she was quiet. First time I ever beat this woman, I swear.

Felt good.

Felt great, actually.

I woke up with a hang over that made my head pound so hard I could have sworn someone replaced my brain with a Sub Woofer unit, and the base was KICKIN'.

There was the blood, the glass, and a tooth to be found, but she was missing.

That's when it really sank in, mostly; what I had done the night before.

And in a strange, inhuman way, I found myself really looking inward at myself for the first time in my entire life.