Hero

She was crying in front of me. She wanted to stay at my place, she wanted me to comfort her, and I wanted to go to bed, get some sleep. I had to work the next day.

She was crying and crying and crying and crying and crying and crying and my hands started to move towards her throat. There was a mantra playing in my head, if I kill her, she will stop. If I kill her, she will stop. And each time I said that to myself, my hands moved closer towards her throat. But what happened instead of her death was, I stopped saying the mantra and pushed her. I pushed her and told her to go home.

That's how I like to believe that happened. I like to tell the story that way, because even though I did something wrong, I stopped myself from doing something worse. I'm a good guy. A hero in a way.

But that isn't the truth. That's not the real story. This is the real story:

She was crying in front of me. She wanted to stay at my place, she wanted me to comfort her, and I wanted to go to bed, get some sleep. I had to work the next day.

She was crying and crying and crying and crying and crying and crying and that sound was getting to me. There was a real risk that she would get her way. That she would control the situation. So I escalated. I shoved her and gave her an order to go home. I laid hands on her, I threatened her, to get my needs met, and it worked.

That's what kind of hero I am.