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“But all we ever fucking do is fight!” he screamed at her short form.



“Exactly! That’s why this fucking relationship is so perfect!” she yelled back at him, tears coming to her eyes. She would not lose him.



“Perfect?” he laughed, lowering his face so that the two were close. “This relationship is far from fucking perfect! All we ever do is argue!”



“No! You’re wrong!” she accused, “It’s perfect! We fight. So fucking what? So does every healthy couple!”



“We’re not healthy if you haven’t noticed! We’re both royally fucked up in the head!” He put his pointer finger to her head and pressed.



“That’s half the reason we’re so perfect for each other! Don’t you see it?” she reached up and brought his face to hers, so that they were looking directly in the eye. “We fight this badly, worse half of the time, and we still manage to stay together. Fighting is what makes us, us. It makes us stronger. The suffering and pain we put each other through is what keeps us sane.”







Everybody wanted them together. Their friends, their families. It was like the two were meant for each other, like they needed to be together, like everybody else needed them to be together. They were so perfect for each other. And she had seen that from the very beginning. Mostly with the help of her friends.



They would often tell her how cute they would look together, how they should have been together, how he loved her the same way that she loved him. She didn’t see it though. She was blind to that sort of thing. It was the result of growing up with men that never loved her back. There were many boyfriends, but only one had loved her. One before him anyways.  



All through her life she’d had a series of boyfriends who treated her the wrong way. She was abused, mentally and physically by her very first, and that’s how she became who she was. The molding and forming that came from those five years with him, she had always fought back. Ever since she was young she deemed it necessary to stick up for herself, and she did. When he’d shoot an insult at her, she’d throw one right back, and when he hit her, she always somehow turned it on him.



Once she actually caught his fist and glided it into a stone wall, causing a hairline fracture in his knuckles, but he never stopped hitting her. He was a great deal of years older then she was and had more experience with fighting, therefore, he was a lot stronger then her. His hits were always a lot more effective then hers were. But every time she still went back to him.



And then he moved, and they drifted apart. He’d promised to write, but never did. They never really said the words, never officially broke it off, but soon, she found that her love for him was gone, and that she could do so much better than him, and all love was lost.



And though it was true that she and the love of her life fought a lot, he’d never hit her, and she knew he never would. There had been so many times she’d provoked him too, that she wanted him too, and he wouldn’t.



And they were together, in love like most couples could never be, and everybody saw that. Everybody, that is, except them. Neither thought the other held as much love as they did.



They kept each other together, they were each other’s reason for living. If they wouldn’t have been together, it’s said, that neither of them would have made it. They were what was keeping each other sane. They were each other’s reasons to live.



The fighting that went on between the two of them was bad. When they fought, they really fought. There were no other couples that fought like they did, and anyone that was there for one of them could tell you that.



But in the end, they always ended up forgiving each other, and their love grew stronger from it. It didn’t matter how much they fought, or how badly they got on each others nerves, they still loved each other just as much at the end of the day.



It was hard for most couples to be like that. When regular people fought like they fought, there wasn’t a possible way for them to become close again like these two did.  That was how everyone knew that they were truly in love. They had break-up fights every two hours, and still they managed to be together.



I often told her that there was no one better for her, and she believed that. Because, that was the truth. There was no one in this world more perfect for her. And there wasn’t anyone that could ever measure up to her in his eyes. They were so consumed in their love for each other that they never even looked at anyone else.



It was sad how it ended, so abrupt, so hurtful to everyone who loved them. I was there that night. I watched it happen, I watched her fall to pieces, and even though I tried to pick them up and glue them back together, nothing helped.



Someone was having a party, and since everyone in their right minds would be there, they felt the need to go too, and drug me along with them, as well as the rest of the people that mattered to them.



He came down the steps, stumbling from the alcohol that coursed through his body. She was under his arm, helping him, making sure he didn’t fall. It was like a flash of lightning, done in less then an instant. She was shoved from under him, while the knife was pressed through his skin and into his side.



He was stabbed repeatedly, and as hard as she tried to get his attacker away from him, she kept failing.



The ambulance was called to the scene immediately, and she went with him, holding onto his hand and praying to any God that would hear her pleas. He was pronounced dead after a long night of trying to bring him back.



After that she shut the whole world off. The only people she would talk to were the ones that had always been there for her. She took up alcohol on a regular basis, trying to drink his face out of her mind. It’s said that she drank herself to death, but I believe that she died from a broken heart.