I wake up on the floor, trying to remember what had happened hours before. Clearly something big. The covers have been thrown around the room haphazardly, the fitted sheet half ripped off and exposing the mattress below. The lamp was knocked over, and the bulb had shattered on the floor, with glass shards strewn around it. My head pounded, as if I had smashed it on the cement wall, which was showing through the torn wallpaper. I stagger to the bathroom, to scour the tear tracks from my face. As I hold my hands under the tap I realise my hands are bloodied and torn, embedded with glass shards. Disgusted I back away quickly one step, then two, before my knees hit the tub and I collapse inside. What happened?

I reconstruct my memories, starting from standing in the bathroom in front of the sink, my hand hovering above my pills.

I stood there, swaying slightly, tipsy from my shots. I laughed hard, and then it subsided to a giggle. Don't touch the pills, I thought. They just mess with my head. They dredge up the great white sharks – my "unhealthy" thoughts swimming in my head.

Giggling I stumbled to the bedroom, only to see him. And here comes the killer whale, to sing me to sleep, thrashing the covers off, it has me by its teeth.

I lifted my hand up, and it was surprisingly steady. Mustering all my power, I slapped his happy grin off of his face. He reeled back, mussing up the perfectly made, white sheets. Welcoming, clean, peaceful, just like I thought our relationship was. His face was set in anger and he yelled

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!"

Not one to be showed up, especially with my newfound confidence, I raised my chin up and screeched: "You know. Don't lie to me."

'What?"

Angry with his attempt to feign innocence I jumped onto the bed, mussing up the sheets and stood above him, staring him down.

"Eileen saw you. Just couldn't stop yourself, could you? I thought I was enough but no you had to have the bartender." I had growled, my eyes hard and unforgiving.

"What? No! It was just harmless flirting?"

"Harmless? Not for me! TAKE HER YOU IDIOT." In a red-eyed rage, I slammed my knee into his stomach. He floundered, whirling his arms, struggling to regain his balance, but he still slammed into the wall, and sagged down to the floor, the studs on his leather jacket ripping strips into the wallpaper.

Filled with unbridled fury, I jumped up and down on the bed. I flailed my legs, kicking the pillows and sheets into a mini tornado, which I bat aside with my arms. I was fit to be tied up in my embittered, ballistic rage. How dare he? I thought. He knew of my – well, he knew of everything. Bipolar, depressed, paranoid. I really was a simmering pot mental health issues. Taking medication was like turning the heat down. But I could never really switch off the flame completely. Occasionally, the heat would crank way up, and I would be sent into a rolling boil.

Whenever I took my pills in public, people used to look at me strangely. They thought I was a freak. They wanted me locked up, tucked away safely in an asylum. All they needed was an excuse. Assualt was one. Jerome. He planned this. He made me angry on purpose. I had gone mad.

Livid, and with all those dangerous, unhealthy thoughts swirling in my head I jumped down and stood over his body, which was curled up on the floor with defeat. Two sides, tearing me apart. He looked so sad, beaten and bruised, and curled up on the floor. So I curled up next to him, looking into his eyes.

And I sobbed, drawing myself into foetal position, my heart ripping itself apart with anguish and grief. How could I do this? Hurt him so badly when all he did was love me?

"Oh my love remind me, what was it that I said?" I wailed. "I can't help but pull the earth around me, to make my bed. Oh, my love remind me, what was it that I did? Did I drink too much, am I losing touch?" my voice cracking, I hoarsely whispered "Did I build this ship to wreck?"

But once more I was filled with a rabid, raging, rancorous anger. He hurt me first. Cursing and swearing, I brought the lamp down next to his leg, the cord whipping around and hitting me in the face. I swore, and fell, my hands landing on shards of glass. Growling with wroth I lifted him by the shoulders and I dragged him up against the wall to eye-level. And I slammed my forehead into his nose. He groaned with pain, and his jaw hung slack, he rather resembled a rag doll. Filled with malice I let him go and he fell to the floor once again, onto his broken nose. Over his howls I spoke in a cruel voice.

"What's with the long face? Do you want more? Thousands of red-eyed mice, scratching at the door. Don't let the curtain catch you, because you've been trapped before. The chair is an island darling, you can't touch the floor."

I rolled on the floor, howling with laughter, thoroughly enjoying the irony of my words. I lay face down, mimicking how dear Jerome looked right now. I don't know how long I stayed there, but when I came back face up, my laughter faded. Jerome had the lamp in his hand, and I he raised it above his head. I remember how he looked, pale, with a long streak of blood along the side of his face, where he had attempted to wipe away the blood from his broken nose. He opened his mouth and heaved in a breath, his missing front teeth comical in the otherwise serious situation.

"I'm sorry", he muttered, and brought the lamp into the side of my head. I nearly blacked out with pain. Nearly. But I couldn't get up. I couldn't. The realisation of everything I had done lay heavily on my chest, weighing me down, suffocating me. I choked and heaved with huge sobs, saliva bubbling between my lips and dribbling down to my chin. Tears ran down my nose onto my lips, joining the saliva and mucus where it pooled at my chin, dripping and forming a puddle on my chest. Tears, saliva, mucus, all threatened to suffocate me, but what felt the worst was the fact that I had hurt someone so badly. Beaten him. Cussed him. Insulted him. My tongue and my body were twin weapons, thrashing him from all sides. Daggers of pain working their way into both his heart and body. Because of me. And still, he loved me. In my woe I barely heard the car engines start, but I knew Jerome had left.

I guess that explained everything. I stay slumped desolately in the bathtub. After a while I get up. And walk down the stairs. Through the living room. Then the foyer. Like a zombie I trudge through the rooms that bore no traces of what had happened the night before. Warm, pleasant, and cosy. Happy memories filled every nook and cranny. Laughing together at failed kitchen experiments. Actually enjoying what turned out well. I couldn't stand it, so I swung the door open, the glass shards embedding themselves further into my hands as I clench the doorknob. It was raining outside. Much more appropriate.

I kneel and let the rain wash away everything that happened, and vow to never go off my medication. I vow to love him like he deserves, and I don't. I vow to keep him from harm. I laugh, it really got crazy. And good God, under starry skies we got lost, and into the breach we got tossed, and the water came in fast.

My love remind me, what was it that I said? I couldn't help but pull the earth around me, to make my bed. Oh, my love remind me, what was it that I did? Did I drink too much? Did I lose my touch? Did I build this ship to wreck?

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't realize that my phone is ringing. Funny. It's perfectly fine, even after what transpired. Good old Nokias. I drag it out of my pocket, hoping its Jerome. But it's not. It's Eileen.

"Hello?"

"Briar? It's about Jerome...."

"Is he at the hospital?" He probably went because of.... His injuries.

"I guess you could say that. Listen, sweetheart, I'm not gonna beat around the bush. He got into an accident last night. He was driving to the hospital, and the CSU said – well- he basically passed out from 'sustained injuries' and swerved into an oncoming ambulance. We think he was speeding; maybe he needed medical help fast and didn't want to call an ambulance? Anyway"

I cut her off.

"Is he OK?"

"Sweetheart, he's brain dead."