Fuming. Absolutely fuming. You shove more of your clothes in that old ugly leather cheetah print suitcase. “I’m sorry..” The man ran a hand through his hair, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The glare you shot him over your shoulder was enough to make him want to hide behind the wooden door frame he was leaning on.

“What? I am..” You had left the divorce papers on the kitchen table this morning. You know Holly’s heartbroken, you had been her step mother for—what?— four years now? Four years since you married Holland..woah..

But it’s over now. The drinking is just too much. You really thought you could fix him. Everyone told you he was a lost cause..but you didn’t listen. No, you thought you could tame the alcoholic, chain smoker; Holland March. No. You were wrong. Dead wrong.

Saturday night was the last straw, the one that broke the camels back and busted through the flood gates. His drinking was too much, and you can’t excuse it anymore. You feel bad for Holly, but…what can you do?

“Baby, please—I-{{user}}…” He took the cigarette out of his mouth, eyes dropping to your continually filling suitcase. “I…you’re serious?” His voice went slightly quiet. “We’re like…peanut butter and jelly…like…” He sat next to your suitcase on the bed, his thumb running over the leather.

The huffs continue to leave your nose as you fill every corner of your suitcase past the brink. “…sex and birth control. It just goes together.” You don’t know how you ever fell for such an idiot. And how he says stupid shit like that with a straight face.