i don't remember being chained
but nothing seems to make sense anymore

Two days after Thom picked Julian up from the hospital, there was a knock on the door. The apartment was completely trashed. I'd spent the night before searching high and low for any stash of drugs Julian may have left to no avail. I had reasoned in my head that if he could just go and do drugs so easily at a party, that perhaps he'd really been doing them all along. He'd lied about other things, why not that too? Except he hadn't. At least, I don't think he did. I believe he really did stay clean for that short amount of time before the party.

That stupid party. Why'd we agree to go? We both knew what would happen. If I had been there, maybe Julian wouldn't have done drugs, but he would have been tempted. We would've had to leave early no matter what. Except, maybe if we hadn't fought, if I had been there, one of us wouldn't have left early in an ambulance.



The knocking on the door persisted. I pushed my hair back from my face as I made my way to the door. I opened it to find Julian with dark circles under his blood-shot eyes and Thom's clothes on.

"What? Did you lose your key?" I asked.

He said nothing, just shook his head.

I stepped back, opening the door more so that he could come in. "What are you doing here? Come to get your stuff?" I couldn't believe what I was saying.

"No," he answered hoarsely, looking around the room. "I came to apologize."

"And make everything all better?"

He eyed me and gave a slight nod. "Sorta like that. I just want things to be right between us."

"Gee, does 'right between us' include breaking up?" I asked.

"No."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

I walked into the kitchen and Julian followed. I started searching through our cabinets and pulling the various bottles of alcohol out. He stared in disbelief as, one by one, I started pouring the bottles down the drain.

"What are you doing?"

"This situation makes me want to drink," I said. "I don't want to drink. And I don't want you to drink either. I want us to be completely sober for whatever amount of time you might decide to stay this time."

"You want us to stay sober forever?"

"Oh, so it's forever now?"

"Kat." It was his why-must-you-doubt-me voice, the one he used whenever I asked the obvious questions, the ones he didn't want to elaborate on.

"No. I want you to explain this to me. Two days ago you wanted to dump me and now you want to stay with me FOREVER? That's a hard one to swallow."

"It was a mistake," he said softly.

"Hmm?"

"It was a mistake. I was drugged up. I didn't know what I was doing."

"But two nights at Thom's helped you figure it out, huh?"

"Yes, yes, it did. I don't want to be without you, Kat."

With that I slammed the bottle I had in my hand on the sink, shattering it and cutting my hand at the same time. "What do you expect me to do, Julian? Huh? You want me to roll over and take you back? Just like that?"

"You cut yourself."

"I know I cut myself. It hurts. I'm bleeding. I can tell. I'm not concerned about that now. Answer me."

Julian stared at my bleeding hand. "Please don't hurt yourself anymore."

"Just answer me then."

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I missed you, okay? I can't take the fighting, but I can't take not being with you. It's not the same without you. I love you, Kat. I've never loved anyone like I love you. I've never wanted to be with anyone like I want to be with you. It just... It took this very, very painful situation to make me realize it."

"I can't do this anymore, Julian. One minute it's one thing and the next another. I can't take you changing your mind about us every five seconds. I need some consistancy. I need... I don't know."

"Do you love me?"

I looked up at him, tears already streaming down my face. "What?"

"Do you love me?"

"You know that I do."

"Then let's just give it one more try, okay? Just once more? If it starts bad again, it'll be the end of it."

"What if..."

"No. We'll talk about this later. We need to get you cleaned up," he said as he took my hand and started to examine the cut for pieces of glass. "I don't think you need stitches and I don't see any glass bits." He ran water over it before guiding me to the bathroom for a bandage.

Watching him take care of me sort of broke my resolve, I guess. One more try couldn't hurt, could it? I'd just guard myself more carefully. I wouldn't give so much to him. It would be better, wouldn't it? But how many times had I asked myself that question?



Julian did everything he could to make it up to me, but how can you really make up for something like what he did? He did try, though. He spoke the sweetest words to me, bought me things, took me out, he did everything he could think to do. And so eventually it just drifted back to something that vaguely resembled normal.

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