"Honey I'm home," you sing sang sickeningly sweet as you kicked your front door closed.

You dumped the new mail on top of the old, hoping at some point Eric would go through it. But you knew that when he got in one of his moods, his genius streaks, he wouldn't, so you might as well go through it. Grabbing the overly large stack of mail you brought it over to the couch and switched a side lamp on. Kicking your combat boot covered feet up onto the coffee table covered in old tattoo magazines, some even featuring pieces about you, and various copies of Eric's books you sifted through the mail.

"Bill, bill, bill," you droned on in your head.

"Hun, there's another letter from the movie people. You might want to give them another look at and get back to them. They seem fairly interested in your shit," you hollered up the stairs.

You tilted your head to the side, waiting to hear a response from upstairs. All you heard was the shuffling of feet across the floors upstairs. Curious you got up and walked up the winding spiral staircase in the middle of your artist loft, still holding the mail. As you reached the top floor you went to Eric's office, his hole in the wall as he called it and opened the door. It was empty, like void of books and the normal piles of papers and computers. There was no tangle of cords lying about, ready to trip you up. You started to get a little scared. Maybe it wasn't Eric who was home, maybe it was something else all together, someone else all together.

Hesitantly you inched your way back to the door and the hallway that reached across to your shared bedroom. You got a bit more scared as you heard more quick shuffling coming from inside. Your heart started beating faster and literally tried jumping out of your throat when you heard a grunt. Then, then you got pissed. Here was someone in YOUR home, going through YOUR shit. You grabbed the nearest thing you could stick your hands on and walked into the room boldly, ready to beat the shit out of whoever had broken into your house. As you pushed the door open, arms held to the ready with your weapon of choice in hand, your jaw dropped to the floor in shock.

"What in fucks sake is going on?" you screeched dropping what you now saw was the new toilet plunger, still in it's package.

"Oh hello Kailey. I'm leaving you," Eric said as he dashed from the closet to the open suitcases lying on the king sized bed.

"Uh, excuse me?" you asked indignantly, perfectly aware of what he had said.

"Don't play dumb with me. It's playing down both of our intelligence's, or what is left of yours," Eric said as he zipped one suitcase closed.

"What the fuck is that suppose to mean?" you asked, getting more pissed by the moment.

"It means you use to be this gloriously smart art student, and now you're just a waste," he said, no real emotion backed behind his words.

"Oh yeah that's right. A waste that happens to bring in just as much money as you do, if not more. A waste you proposed to, a waste who bought this fucking loft before you made money, so we could have a place to stay and you could write undisturbed. Where the fuck do you get off?" you asked, well more like yelled.

"Actually I haven't in quite a long time, with you any ways, which is why I started seeing Jean. Hence I'm leaving you," he finished as he zipped the last of his suitcases and started to lug them past you.

You just stood there in shock. You couldn't believe it, HE was leaving YOU. You were the one being dumped, that never happened. Never. Then you got beyond pissed as his words sunk in. He had been sleeping with someone else.

"How long has Jean been in the picture?" you asked, dead cold rolling off your tongue.

"For almost two years," Eric said as he loaded one of the larger suitcases down the spiral staircases.

"So you decided to string our marriage along for three years, while fucking some broad on the side for almost two. How does the math work out here? What the fuck was the point?" you asked, seething, yet calm on the exterior, which was never a good combo for you.

"I needed to get settled before I could make it official with Jean. You and I had it good when we first started, but I grew bored," Eric said as he placed his luggage next to the front door.

"Bored? Bored? You got FUCKING bored? Here, here's a little cure for your boredom," you said stalking back into your use to be shared bedroom.

Grabbing his suitcases you took them to the landing.

"Want a little excitement? Here, heres some," you yelled as you threw his suitcases over the open aired walkway that looked down onto the main floor.

"And some more. A fucking whore on the side, I can't believe you," you said as you threw another of his bags.

"He is not a whore," Eric said defensively.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

"Jean is a man?" you asked dead cold.

You had no problem with gay people, being bi yourself. But when they stole your husband from you, or were the reason your husband was leaving you, then, then you out right hated who ever it was. Regardless of the sex they preferred.

"Kailey, come on. Don't," Eric pleaded from the living room floor, at least smart enough to know not to go up there when you were like this.

Ignoring him you went back into the room and grabbed the bag you were saving for last. Bringing out the over stuffed medium sized leather messenger bag you unzipped it and dug your hands into the various pockets.

"If. You. Ever. Come. Back. Here. Again," you said each word as you tossed down miscellaneous important cords for his work and computer.

"I'll. Rip. Your. Little. Lying," you said throwing down memory cards and disks at your feet and crushing them underneath your heal, then slipping the expensive laptop out and throwing down the still slightly full bag.

"Deceiving. Self to fucking shreds. You fucking cunt face," you excentuated the last bit by tossing his laptop forcibly onto the ground from your spot, 35 feet in the air, on the walkway.

"You little bitch," Eric shrieked as he went towards the wreckage that use to be his work.

"Oh you have no idea," you said as you began to laugh maniacally.

"And you better get the fuck out of my loft in 65 seconds or I WILL kill you. Starting now," you growled down at the lousy excuse for a ex husband, giving him the look of death that rarely anyone saw, and for good reason.

Eric scrambled away from the mess that use to be his life and gathered what he could from the ground, frantically stuffing them into his messenger bag. Slinging the bag over his shoulder he tossed his luggage out the front door once he got it opened and ran after them, slamming the door closed behind him. As soon as the door closed your maniacal laughter grew louder and eventually turned into shrieking. Then your shrieking turned into hysterical sobs and you crumpled to the floor and sobbed into your knees.

Once you had your breathing under control you ran down the stairs and into the dining area where you kept your wedding china. Throwing open the doors to the cabinet holding it all you grinned evilly. Taking a dinner plate in hand you admired the soft leaf and ivy pattern painted across the porcelain china, laced with gold and silver, they were gorgeous and worth a fortune. And your next target.

Taking the plate currently in hand you gazed down at it, and tears started to appear in the corners of your eyes, you threw it to the floor. As the crash reached your ears a smile played across your lips, but the tears were still there. Then you went to every piece in the oversized armoire and chucked every piece in the massive dining set to the floor. Eventually you started to feel better, each crash made the smile more prominent on your face and the tears more of a thing of the past. You started laughing as you threw down serving dish after serving dish, gravy boats, salad plates, everything. You had gone of the deep end, at least for the moment. Once every piece of the glorious china set had been broken you went to the kitchen.

You got a mop bucket from the cleaning cabinet and dumped a whole large bottle of bleach into it. You walked back to the armoire and opened up the drawers that contained the silver, careful to make sure you didn't get your grandfather's, you collected all of it into your hands. Wedding and anniversary silver in hands you dumped them into the bucket of bleach, laughing at the splash it made. You closed the drawer, that now only contained your grandfather's silver and went to the cabinets containing the crystal from the wedding set as well. Once again making sure to separate your grandfather's you took each glass in hand and through them one by one onto the floor, reveling in the sound of the crystal shattering.

"That's for writing shitty novels (crash). That's for being a lousy lay (crash). That's for never doing your share of the house work (crash). That's for turning into the typical male (crash)," you said each one as you threw the last few of the glasses onto the wooden floors.

You only had two left, the two from your wedding day that had special engraving on them. They had been a present from your mom, but you knew Shads was behind it, they were to you for it to be only from your your mother. You took one in each hand, admiring the workmanship on the etched glass, they really were beautiful, but you didnt care anymore.

"That's for cheating on me," you said venomously as you hurled his glass of the two onto the floor.

"And this, this is for breaking my fucking heart you fucking cunt bastard," you said throwing down your own glass onto the floor.

Notes

So if this story looks familiar to any of you it's because it started out on Quizilla many, many, MANY years ago before I moved it to the site Mibba.

And now it's here!
I do so hope you all enjoy it!
Be prepared, it is a VERY long story and full of roller coasters.

So hang on, it's going to be one hell of a bumpy wild ride!