Author's Note: Hi! This is my first story ever :P so I really don't know how well it is (and I have no idea what I'm doing...) ^^;; I've been told I got this annoying habit of switching my tenses...yea, I don't know how to catch that. It looks OK to me... So if anyone is really ticked about it, be my beta and edit my stuff lol. I've read it over a bunch of times, so most, if not all, grammar and spelling errors should be fixed. If I missed any, feel free to let me know.

You knocked me out, I can never be the same;
I pushed you over, but here we still remain.

They argued a lot. He's too possessive. She's too paranoid. He's too rough. She's too stubborn. She wonders if it's worth it – staying with him, that is – him and his wild mood swings. He scares her sometimes when they argued; both of them fighters, neither one willing to back down. Sometimes he'd get so angry; he looks like he's going to strike her. He never does though. It's usually during those times that she wonders if they were better off going their separate ways.

They mostly argued about his job. She's a fucken bleeding heart and the idea of taking a human life completely abhors her. "Why can't you do something normal?" she'd scream at him, "I swear you reek of blood every time you come back!"

"Stop being a drama queen, Leese," he would shout back, "I already stopped taking jobs you deemed 'inappropriate' because the victims are 'good people,' and getting paid a lot less because of it," he muttered the last part. "That should at least please you enough to shut up about my choice in career."

"It doesn't matter, Jackson! You're still killing people! It isn't right to be taking lives no matter who it belongs to!" She tossed the dishes with the remnants of their dinner from the kitchen table to the sink loudly – one plate shattering; quite possibly mirroring the state of the couple's nerves at the moment. They were both standing, Jackson's chair sprawled on the floor behind him, and the table separated them. He stepped forward until his thigh pressed against the table's edge. "I didn't see you being so demure when you tried to take mine," he leered as he crossed his arms.

Lisa, rather shrilly, replied, "You were trying to kill me first! Me!" She jabbed herself in the chest with her index finger after each "me." "Did you expect me to just roll over and let you do it?"

"Well, according to you, that's exactly what should've been done."

"Oh don't give me that bull!" she took a few steps closer to the table, standing behind her chair, "I was trying to protect myself!"

"Then think of me as a modern-day vigilante-hero, how's that? Protecting the world from drug lords and–"

"So the other drug lords paying you can take over his turf."

"That's not the point."

"No, of course not," she sneered at him.

He scoffed, "After all that you've fucken been through, I'd think you'd be less naïve!"

"What are you talking about?" she sighed, placing a hand to her forehead.

Jackson opened his mouth and froze, his lower jaw jutting out a bit. He closed his mouth then tried again, opening and closing his lips a few times before making a "tsk" sound. If he continued what he wanted to say, she probably would have either burst into tears or thrown a knife at him (she was also standing right in front of those sharp objects, all she have to do is reach behind her); maybe do both at the same time. He groaned in exasperation, "Shit." Since when did he care if he was being a little too cruel?

Lisa smiled sardonically, "Yea, I agree, Jack. Right now you're nothing but a piece of–"

His face twisted in rage and he roared, "Enough!" He raised his hand in an attempt to just add some emphasis to his words, nothing more. She flinched ever so softly. It was just a twitch of her head, a jerk of her hands, but she flinched...and he saw it. He saw the quick flash of fear in her eyes that disappeared as fast as it came. She was afraid of him. He lowered his hand, staring at her, his eyes a little too wide, his lips slightly parted – all the anger in his face drained away to shock. She looked back at him somewhat apprehensively. He closed his mouth and clenched his jaw, turning away from her; both of them looking at anything except each other.

He started walking towards her. She tensed as he grew near, still not looking at him. He stepped pass her and began collecting the pieces of the broken plate from the sink.

Please review! (and please don't be mean)