I stared into the dancing orange flames, listening to the quiet crackling of the burning wood, contemplating when my boyfriend might waltz through the door to our penthouse. Silence had been my constant companion for what had been hours now. Today was supposed to have been a celebration but apparently that had slipped Marvel's mind—three years wasn't anything anyways.

With the final burning sip of my whiskey, I set the now empty crystal glass on the coffee table and walked into the dining room. The candles I had lit earlier were nothing but wax puddles on the table cloth and the plates of roast and vegetables cold, forgotten...much like myself. Without much more of a glance made my way to the bedroom.

Halfway through taking off my make-up, I heard the door slam and heavy foot-falls approaching. "Katniss? Where the hell you at?" the loud voiced called.

Great, he was drunk and sounded pissed off. "In here honey," I answered immediately. I hated when he was like this—I had the small fear in the back of my mind that he'd end up hurting me. The bathroom door pushed open, revealing Marvel with blood-shot eyes and a disheveled appearance.

"You weren't gonna wait up or what?"

"I've been waiting for hours for you, excuse me if midnight isn't late enough," I barked back, now more angry than I'd previously been.

"Whatever, quit being a bitch. A simple yes or no would have sufficed. Now can you get out, I have to take a piss," he slurred, not even waiting for me to leave before he began unzipping his pants.

The edge of the bed sunk with my weight as I sat there waiting for his next move. It had been like this for months now and I couldn't figure out what had changed. Our relationship had started out haphazardly but we'd found a rhythm, we'd been happy for a long time now, but this year had just been on the downward spiral it seemed.

Nostalgically, I walked over to our shared dresser and picked up a photo of us at the opening of Marvel's dad's company. Marvel's looking down at me and cupping my chin, a mega-watt smile on both our faces—that day had been a great one. We'd just found out that his father had promoted Marvel to marketing director, his biggest dream. The more I think about it though, we haven't been that couple in a long time.

The clunking of a shoe against the floor caught my attention. Marvel was undressing, throwing his discarded clothing on the floor, right next to the hamper. Fucking men.

"Where were you tonight, babe?" I tried to sound concerned and not the least bit upset, but I knew it didn't come out like that when Marvel jerked his head up, his jaw clenched.

"Why does it matter? You trying to be my fucking mom or what? Just cause she's dead, doesn't mean I need another one. Seventeen years of her was enough."

"I'm not trying to be your damn mom, just your concerned girlfriend. It was our three-year anniversary tonight, I'd like to know where you were. I made dinner, bought your favorite wine and cheesecake from the bakery on the corner of Main and Murphy." My voice cracked towards the end, a tear rolling down my olive cheek.

"Work was stressful, I went out with some guys from work. Thanks for the cheesecake Kat, drinking made me hungry, that sounds like an excellent snack right now." He swayed towards me, trying to give me a kiss but I turned my cheek, his lips landing on the corner of my jaw.

"Don't start with me, a kiss isn't going to fix this! You fucked up and you can't even say sorry, you say thanks for the cheesecake? Tell me how that's okay. Are you kidding me?" Marvel stepped back and stared at me, his face becoming red and his eyes darker.

"You're such a bitch, I don't even know how we're still together. I have women all over me when I go out and at work, but I come home to this. What bullshit," he slurred, pushing past me on his way out.

"I cannot believe you just said that to me, what's your deal?" I demanded, all but running after him.

"You! You're my deal, get the fuck out of my house. I'm tired of you whining and trying to act like my mom. Quit being such a drag, you're twenty-two, not thirty."

The tears just kept rolling down my cheeks as I stood there, staring at him eating the chocolate cheesecake. This felt like the scene of a movie, not real and real just the same. He was half done with it when he finally looked up at me, "Why are you still here? I told you to get the hell out of my house?"

Not even giving him the satisfaction of a response, I turned on my heel, padding back into the bedroom. A slight chuckle escaped my lips while I packed my duffel bag with enough clothes to last me a few weeks. The essentials were thrown on top before I zipped it up, throwing it over my shoulder.

"Call me when you decide you want to be the guy I fell in love with. I don't like this new douche bag guy you've decided you want to be, Marvel. Don't bother calling me, I'll be back in a few weeks. If things are better, than maybe we can work this out. If not, I'll get all my stuff then."

Marvel acted like he was going to stop me but then stopped mid-stride, staring. "I'm taking Atlas too. You'll be completely without any responsibilities, have a good time by yourself." With that, I slapped my leg and let out a low whistle, calling the dog. The large German Shepherd ran past me and out the open door.

Three years of my life, up in the air, just like that. It was surreal and freeing all at the same time. I didn't have anywhere else to go, as my best friend Jo was out of the country at the moment. That left me with only one other option: Home.