Saved Not Soft

Crashing through the door with Kramer-like urgency, he stumbles about, ransacking every corner of the kitchen for a quick fix. Making sure to alert anyone willing to partake in the ensuing debauchery or at the very least notice him. Red flags flood the gates but the gin is well in control at this point so false courage and that damned compassion take over. Not to mention Jessicas worry and soft spot for James force me to go check up on him down stairs. I'm actually happy to spend some time with him. Jess and I only recently began seeing one another and this must have been about the third or fourth time I got to see her best friend/roommate. He's been spiraling out of control as of late and it's been evident that a bottom was nearing its breech. He's top heavy, about 5'11'' and a kind man from what I've gathered the few times we've crossed paths. So I wasn't at all bracing myself for anything outside of a few shots and a swift jam session. It was Halloween night after all so I thought it normal at the time for him to arrive home hammered and prepared to fight the break of day.

Jess and I had been babysitting a bottle of gin and I was getting bored of the movie so his arrival was the perfect excuse to stretch my legs, snag a beer, pick up a guitar and entertain a smoke with someone other then my date that just wanted to pound alcohol and lay in bed. So I stroll down the stairs and immediately get offered a shot of whiskey. Mixing liquor is never a good idea but hey, it's Halloween and I'm not one to reject hospitality nor alcohol, I consider that a form of alcohol abuse. He pours, we pound. This goes on while I pick up one of his guitars and play for at least three more rounds before he decides to sit down and tune into my rhythm. Things are going smoothly and mind you, James isn't at all the guitarist that I am so it's a bit difficult for him to keep up even with me dumbing down the speed and chord progressions for him. Let alone the fact that his 6-string is probably growing extra chords with the way he's starting to close one eye to focus on them. We sing a bit and he's having fun from what I can tell. He sneaks in a growl or a teeth smack from time to time showing his growing aggravation with the instrument. Projecting his disappointment from running his company into the ground and his lady affairs that have all been piling up above him for quite some time now. Before I can suggest a smoke break he flips the guitar, grips it with both hands from the neck and headstock, suggesting destruction as he locks eyes with me. For a split second it almost seemed as if he was asking for help and just as fast, his eyes go black again, reintroducing rage. I set my guitar far from his reach. Then, as if coddling him off the ledge, I extend my hand and offer him the smoke anyway, but to no avail. He looks at me one last time with that look of regret before cocking his hips and lets fly. Hole in wall, strings snap, wood chips slice the air, as he tears into his furniture. The guitar now shapeless, returns to its basic elements, scattered across the vinyl flooring in disrepair, as my hands raise to my head in sheer despair. I let out a deep sigh. He's breathing heavy at first then starts to calm after a few moments. It seemed to do him some good actually, but at what cost!? He breaks down as Jess rushes down the stairs battering me, assuming it was I that was at the wrong end of the calamity. As surprised as I was that she would assume I'd do that, in retrospect I understood her. We hardly know one another and James isn't the type of guy to act out this way. It's simply the circumstances at hand which have led him to act so monolithically out of character. But James surprises me once again. Sobering up for as long as it took him to admit to the action. He takes the blame and looks at us both. Unhinging his shoulders, he proceeds to lower his head to meet Jess's forehead with his own in a moment of tamed regret and sorrow. She proceeds to calming the beast.

They step out to the balcony for that smoke. Jess always had the habit of sitting on top of him, topless, with her legs wrapped around his waist, which I found odd but didn't inspire any sort of jealousy. They don't seem to have that sort of chemistry and I indulge an open mind so no problems here. He seems to be calming down but his eyes occasionally roll to the back of his head so I stay nearby just incase my services are required. They wave me over. Jess hops off and I have (what seemed to me as) a genuinely intimate connection with James to reassure him that every things going to be ok and all the cliche one-liners I could muster to put him at ease. Recalling the events now, this is around the time his demeanor began to shift to that of a psychopath. The eerie looks and the rolling of the eyes to the back of his head should have been obvious red flags but like I said before, the alcohol had me well in its grip so minuscule details were easily dismissed. I go back inside heading upstairs to the room to continue ignoring the film. Jess and James have one last moment before departing. James, holding a soup pot in his hand, behind his back, says goodnight to Jess and sends me a look, that now sends shivers down my spine, reliving what was about to happen. I barely thought about it but I did. I assumed he was hungry and was going to cook himself up a stew so I thought nothing of it. I'm in the room. Laying down enjoying a glass.

Now I don't know what went on for the 15 minutes they were downstairs. If he drank more, popped more pills, or blacked out but a struggle was in its rise. I hear obnoxious foot steps pounding up the stairs. I'm guessing it's James since I hear Jess begging him not to do something but the voices are vague and arduous to understand. I peak my head into the hallway. I catch Jess on the floor and James hovering above her. They're not fighting but a struggle of flying limbs makes me uneasy. I allow it to continue for another 5 seconds, attempting to wrap my head around what's going on and not wanting to interfere since I'm new here. Enough is enough though. He's getting rougher with her and I can no longer wait for them to solve this in any way, shape, or form. I calmly yet firmly stride over to them. Realizing halfway there that I'm well over buzzed and definitely in the drunken phase of my drinking. I attempt firmly but kindly to separate them from one another. Pushing James with my left hand into his room then redirecting my focus immediately to Jess, which at this time is on the floor, frantically giving out cries of distress and at once confusion. While I aid Jess back to her feet I manage to slide her behind me with my right arm when suddenly I feel a numbing chill at the top of my head. My vision gets blurry, yet I feel nothing. I feel so warm and a fuzzy, almost good. Then a steaming puddle of blood begins to spill down my forehead. The adrenaline momentarily subsides and the pain, with all its might, rushes towards my skull. I bend over, hands on knees and let out a breath of release. "Uff!", not even 2 seconds later James continues to bash the side of my face with what I now know is the soup pot he was hiding in his room he recently grabbed downstairs. Three times I feel the hits to my left cheek. I haven't gone down yet. The blitzkrieg has come to an end. I push him off blindly to the other side of the hall. This gives me sometime to wipe the blood thats now drenched my hair and covered my face. I clear my eyes, stand firmly, breathing heavily in a controlled rage I am desperately fighting with all my might to conceal. I stare down at James across the hall, which at this point is standing wide eyed, petrified as to why I am still standing, holding the pot with his right hand. "I'm going to kill him", one voice thinks. "Get the knife", the other suggests. "Help Jessica", is whispered by an unknown entity. A calm wave of comfort comes over me. Grateful at my now obvious path. I step towards James, he backs up. Then I pivot towards Jess, throw her over my shoulder and race down the stairs. She gets off and rushes back towards James. Pounding on his chest demanding an explanation, an apology, anything! He stares into space, feeling nothing, or everything. "I can't go back up there", I think to myself. "I can't promise I won't hurt him this time around". I'm downstairs pacing about the living room floor walking over wood chips from an ancient guitar. I belt out for the first time tonight, "Jessica! Get down here now!". I peer up the stairs. He's now trying to push Jess down the flight of stairs. I rush up to grab her. He tosses her and she falls about three steps. I now forget about Jess, pass right by her and launch James towards the wall. He's slammed by the force. His back and head thrust against the wall. I grab Jess this time, banishing her freedom of choice. I'm walking us down the stairs in a panic when I feel a cool breeze fly down the side of my face. He tossed the pot at us. Luckily his aim is as prolific as his guitar playing. He screams, "Leave me alone! Get out of my house!" Jess finally gets a good look at my face and breaks down in cries of horror. I step outside the door. I set her down on the floor, take my pants off to give to her, then pick her up again. We see James rushing around the house through the giant windows. Getting dressed, grabbing what pills and essentials he can hold in one bag to obviously escape this nightmare he himself has induced. The neighbors are hesitant to let us in. With my face all bloody I don't blame them. They call the cops but ask us to stay outside, understandably. When the cops arrive he's easily apprehended. Walks past us without even a look, gazing down at his foot steps. The cops question us, ask me if I want to press charges and here's the twist, I say no. "He's been through enough already". Jessica, the medic, the cops, the neighbors, look at me confused, almost angry. I stand behind my statement. "Well you need to come with us, to the hospital." I respectfully decline. I want to stay with her, I look over at Jessica. "I'll be fine", I calmly state. After about an hour of the show, the crowd vanishes. We go up to her room, I hop in the shower. The blood dripping down my body sends me into relief. I cry my anger out, I weep for a new me, I smile down at my feet, sit down and let the water cradle my body.

Without giving too much of my life story away, I'll say this. I grew up an angry, sad, confused and tormented child. I had an essence throughout my life that always found a way to keep me happy, curious, compassionate and never wanting to be anyone else but me. No matter how good or how bad things got. I have always loved being me. I love me so much I love what happens to me. My up-bringing was tough for one reason. To prepare me for moments like these. Where what was needed wasn't my fists that I was so accustomed to using to solve my problems but that essence in me that never left my being. I was surprised myself as to how I reacted. In retrospect, that was the night I decided to return to that essence, kill the negative, cancerous, hate I was so bent on avenging and chose love instead of hate. Hate's easy nowadays. I make it a duty to do what's hard since that Halloween. For the hardest things in life to do are the right things to do, that's why they're so hard.