"Babe!" Scott, my boyfriend of six mounths screamed my name.
His brown hair was messy, his clothes creased and as he walked forwards he stumbled... Drunk... again. He pulled me into a tight hug and kissed me. Eww the smell of beer radiated from him and his mouth. I pulled away and looked at his eyes... blood shot.
"Your drunk again" I half teased.
"Damn right" he said trying to look serious.
"Dont you think you need to give it rest, you've been drunk every night this week!"
"Dont start Emily, I dont need you on my case."
"Scott you need someone on it and you need to give it a rest, you have work tomorrow!"
He was starting to piss me off. He'd been drinking a lot more recently and I always had to clean up after him, who did he think I was? His mother? Suddenly his fist came down hard on the table.
"You cant tell me what to do! Im going out drinking and I dont no when I'll be home!" With that he turned drunkenly around and headed for the door.
"Well you're cleaning up your own sick!" I shouted after him just before the door slammed and shuck in its frame.
He was not a nice drunk at all. First he was verbally abusive... and then there was the first time he hit me... The next morning when he woke up with a banging headache and then demanded to know who'd given me a black eye because he was going to go and kill them, the shock on his face when I told him, he'd done it. He begged me to forgive him and of corse I did. Afterall he didnt have control of himself. He had hit me a few other times, often drunk and I forgave him but when I told him repeatedly that the drinking had to stop he would just fly into a mad rage and storm out the house.