Fighting Addiction.

A bottle smashed against the wall. My body cringed, trying to avoid the pieces of glass that were shattering and flying all around the living room.

Oli stood in the kitchen door frame, his eyes wider that dinner plates. He stared at the damage he'd made to our television, disbelieving his own actions. His face had paled, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was thinking up an excuse for his behaviour.

"I can't fucking believe you."

I beat him to it.

"Christiane, I can explain!" He shouted quickly, running after me. I'd already began my journey to our front door, having already had my shoes on. I grabbed my coat, scarf, and fingerless gloves, my hands just gripping the door handle when Oli pulled me around to face him.

His eyes were red, and his breath smelt horrible. He was gripping a little too tightly on my upper arm, keeping me from leaving. His ability to stand was lacking, but his strength had doubled it seemed. Although half closed, his eyes pleaded with me to stay. He wanted to talk to me, he wanted to make it better. But I'd had enough with his drunken actions. I wanted to leave, for good.

"Christiane, please, don't leave me." Tears started leaking out of the corners of his eyes, and before I knew it, his face was buried into my neck. His arms had been thrown around me, making me stumble slightly, falling into the closed door. I let my hand fall from the door handle. My hand wandered up to his head, letting my fingers rake through his hair.

He mumbled unintelligible words, probably along the lines of what he'd just said. I ignored him.

I stood silently with him for a few minutes.

I felt his body growing heavy, and I began to sink down to the ground with him. When we landed, my back was against the door still, but he was lying in between my legs, his arms still wrapped firmly around my waist. It was a strange position, but there wasn't much I could have done about it. I tried hopelessly to pry his arms off me, but they had been practically glued to me. I sighed in defeat.

My body fell to the ground, lying on my side in front of the door now. Oli adjusted himself so that his face was still pressing into my stomach area, but now his legs were lying along side with mine.

By that point, I'd accepted that there is where I was going to sleep that night. Oli was already passed out. I could hear his light snoring and I could feel his warm breath sinking though the fabric of my shirt. The feeling still sent shivers up and down my spine.

Going to pull my scarf off, my hand managed to make contact with one of the pieces of glass that now covered the entire living room. The back of my hand began to bleed, spotting the floor with blood. I cursed and decided that I would have to sacrifice my scarf for the hard wood floors. I wrapped my hand in the knit material and lay it down right above Oli's head.
I could help but let my fingers run through his hair. He reacted by pulling me even closer to him.

He was always very childlike when he passed out drunk. Usually, when he fell asleep sober, he still enjoyed cuddling, but he would roll around a lot more. Drunk, he'd pull me as close as he could, not willing to move one inch. He'd leave me in the morning as soon as he woke up though. He would rush to the bathroom where he'd down at least 5 painkillers.

"I really wish you could stop this, Oli. I love you more than anything. I gave up my family, and my home for you. Please, give up this horrible habit, for me. Please Oli." I whispered, knowing he couldn't hear me. My fingertips continued to run through his hair. I had started crying, but I hadn't noticed.

I really wished I had a cigarette at that point.

Once that thought ran through my head, I realized I had a pack in my pocket. Thankfully not the pocket closest to the ground. I pulled out the pack and lit one smoke.

I only hoped that in the morning that things would be different, but I knew it wouldn't be.
The cigarette finished ten minutes later. Oli was still sound asleep, and his grip on my waist had loosened.

I chose that moment as the time to get out of his grip.

I managed to tear his arms off of me. It took a little bit of squirming before I was standing and headed towards my bedroom. As soon as I entered the room, I grabbed a suitcase, filling it with a bunch of my belongings and my passport.

It was time to go home. It was time for a break.

I snapped the suitcases closed after tossing a couple pictures of Oli and I in them. I'd packed all my toiletries and anything I didn't want to leave behind. I contemplated leaving a ring Oli had given me a little after I'd moved to England with him. I quickly decided against it.
It was breaking his heart enough to find me gone. If I left that ring, it would have been worse.

I hoped he'd realize that me not leaving it behind meant we still had a chance.

But in case, I left him a note.

'I love you, but I can't take this anymore. Don't you dare look for me until you've fixed up your bullshit. -Christiane'

I called my work, telling them that I was leaving, not caring if I lost the job I adored so much. I felt stupid, seeing as I'd told Oli that I didn't want to leave my job for his tour. But at the point, I was not thinking about anything else besides leaving.

And with that, I boarded a plane, leaving England for a long needed vacation.