I opened the door to find my girlfriend sitting on the couch with her arms crossed. A frown had formed on her face. The clock had just struck two in the morning. I plugged my phone in.

“Why haven’t you answered any of my calls?” She grumbled. I stared in awe.

“My phone was dead,” I explained.

“You expect me to believe that when all my calls went through,” she continued.

“It seriously was dead,” I said. “Why would I be shitting you?”

She grumbled, “Because you always go out to the bar when you come home at two am.” I sighed because I used to do that. However, since I met her I didn’t have the urge to drink.

“I’m telling you I was at work, and my phone died,” I irritated. She ran to the bedroom and grabbed my pile of clothes.

“Tell that to your mother when you stay with her tonight,” she shouted. My mouth dropped.

“You’re kicking me out?” I questioned.

“I don’t want to be with an alcoholic…” she mumbled while looking away. I clenched my fists.

“I got sober when I met you, because I didn’t want to fuck things up,” I growled. “However, if you want to be like this, then I’ll show you a true alcoholic.” I grabbed my clothes and a bottle of tequila. I gave her one last glare and bolted out the door.