Sober Up

Nothing

Emily's POV

Walking through the crowded downtown part of Foxden, I hustle along, keeping to myself. I have to see Matt, right away. I need to tell him something. I've been rehearsing the words aloud and in my head. I'm ready, I'm not going to mess up again. Suddenly, my mind flickers to that humid Saturday night when he had too much to drink. But that wasn't why it had burned like a kerosene oil lamp in my mind for so long. My fingers graze across my lower back, quickly, so that I'm not noticed. I wince. They say that wounds will get better over time, but this one is just getting worse.

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"Stop it, Matt!" I beg. "You're hurting me!" He sits on top of me, putting all of his weight on my stomach. It's difficult to breath. He slaps me straight across the face, impatient.

"I'll stop when you answer my question!!" he yells, his hot breath sticking to my fear frozen skin.

"I did," I squeak. "My cousin needed me to help her get groceries, so I assisted her!!" I scream.

"Wrong answer!" he shouts and yanks my hair back. My entire head is pulled back and it starts to throb. I'd throw a few punches, but I know from experiences that when he's drunk and flamed, it could get fatally ugly. "What is his name!!" he demanded his open hand close to my cheek.

"There is no guy!" I plead. "Just you, Matt!" I shake him as best I can. "You're the one I love," I say softer. His face changes. "Will you please get off me, I can't really breath!" I sputter. To my surprise, he climbs off. I get up and straighten my shirt. His eyes never leave my face.

"Don't ever cheat on me again," he warns, sternly. Then he takes a long swig of beer. Why does he do this to me?

"I didn't cheat on you," I whisper, looking towards the door.

"What did you just say!?" he erupts, slamming his beer on the table causing some to spill out.

"I did not see another guy! I am not cheating on you," I turn back around and tell him slowly, to let it sink in. His bloodshot eyes glare back at me, challenging my statement. "You know what happened to my cousin! I told you!!" My voice rises but my patience lowers. "She's still afraid! It traumatized her, and it would traumatize me, too if I was.."

WHAM! Rough knuckles collide with my face.

Thud.

My body hits the hardwood floor and it feels wet... probably the spilled beer. My jaw feels strange. I try to stand up but I'm pushed back down. Is this a nightmare? I slap myself hard across the cheek, once, twice, nope. This is reality. An excruciatingly loud, booming voice pounds on my ear drums.

"I was trying to give you another chance! A clean slate!! Why do you always have to mess things up, Emily!" he spits. My name sounds like a thousand curse words, and he says it like it's meant to be. I try not to cry, I've gotten through this so far. I cannot let him see me breakdown. "Are you ignoring me, now?" He tests me.

"No, I.."

CLUNK! He kicks me and I curl up in terror. He grabs me and pulls me up. I'm practically thrown towards the door. I stumble trying to keep my balance.

"Get out!!" he commands. "Go! That's what you want, right?!" he teases, "to go home and cry where no one can see how fragile you really are!" His words are distant as I mechanically reach for the handle. I miss it. I try to grab hold of it again. "And don't come running back here asking me for another chance because I'm not that kind of guy," he informs me. I know when to be careful but this just flames me.

"Good, cause I'm not that kind of girl either!" I scream, louder than I meant. I jerk the handle and pull back as quickly as I can. I flinch unsuspectingly as something shatters centimetres from my head. An empty beer bottle.

"Whore," he calls, the smirk audible in his words. I walk down the steps, onto the side walk, and into the street as fast as my aching bones will take me.

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I fall back down to Earth and grab out my iPod. In need of clearing my head, I press shuffle. "You kept all the things I threw away, a leaf I picked, a birthday card I made," Gabrielle Aplin sings softly. "Holding on to memories of you and me, we didn't last a year. We're just a box of souvenirs." Panic Cord's rhythm is quite catchy and I begin to hum along. "Maybe, I pulled the panic cord. Maybe, you were happy I was bored. Maybe, I wanted you to change, maybe, I'm the one to blame."

Focused on the music and my memories, I never heard the stranger yell desperately, "Girl! Get down!!" as if it could have spared me. There was a loud crack that just came out of thin air and then.. nothing.