I don't own Degrassi. I love drunk people! Hehe.

"Last Friday, Craig Manning, the infamous and talented rock star was at a court hearing for a mysterious legal case, involving the Serenity House Drug & Alcohol Treatment Centre and a man named Michael Spitzer, who is currently under the care of the Calgary Correctional Facility. A witness and fan at the hearing said that Manning was very shy and nervous, barely showing his face. The witness overheard that there was an attack on Manning by Spitzer at the centre, but no ideas why or when. More news on Manning, as the courthouse visits continue."

I had to shut off that damn woman on the TV, I felt like my eyes were burning into my skull. I hadn't been out of the apartment for a while now and I had the worst headache of my life. Ellie unlocked the apartment door, the light from the hallway making my headache even worse. I groaned and leaned back. She kissed my forehead and set the groceries on the kitchen counter.

"Hey, Craig, you feeling better?" she asked. She walked back into the kitchen, starting to put the groceries away. She tapped her foot, waiting for an answer.

"Can you leave this place for like… two seconds… for once, Craig? Craig? Are you alive in there? It's a nice day out." She pathetically tried to get my lazy out the door. I shook my head and mumbled, "No way." She sighed impatiently, laughed and slapped my face angrily.

"What the hell, Ellie!" I stood up, holding my stinging face, "What's your problem?" I turned to her and she laughed, bitterly and full of hatred.

"Two days Craig since you've called me at work! You haven't picked up your guitar! You haven't tried to have sex with me for two days! What's your problem?" she yelled at me. I stared at her, "You don't know… you just don't." Ellie took my wrist and looked straight in my eyes.

"Tell me... What happened back there?" Her voice was shaking, tears rolling down her face. I shook my head and my voice choked.

"It's not your business." I sighed and walked out the door of the apartment. Before I could get the chance to walk away, Ellie slammed me into a wall. My back crashed painfully, and I let out a long, loud wail.

"Yeah, that hurt! Listen to me, Rock Star! I don't care how many records you've sold, or how amazing your music is, or how painful rehab was, I am Ellie, your Ellie! Don't you dare talk to me like I'm the goddamn press! I love you, and I am risking everything I've ever had for you. Now tell me. What happened back there?" By then, I was crying, and that was never okay, I was the rock star, I couldn't do that, it made no sense to cry. She shook her head.

"You won't talk, will you?" I shook my head, unhappy and confused as I could possibly be. She pushed me, crying.

"You know, sometimes I don't know how I can possibly stand you." Anger, I could hear it ringing in my ears, "Just, leave, get out of here, I can't stand you lying anymore." And the slam of the door in my face hurt more than anything. And I decided to just get drunk.

It's weird when I get drunk, I usually go alone. But not this time, ohhh no. This time, I brought Marco. Which is kinda weird. I just stood there, chugging beer after beer after beer.

"Ya know, Marco. It's kinda Ellie how much I miss weird." I paused, moving back and forth, though I was standing in one place. I felt warm inside, but frustrated. I did miss her, more than I was letting on. Marco laughed at my drunken sentence and stood up, trying to keep my balance as he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, buddy, I know. It is kind of weird how much you miss the girl you love, huh?" He laughed and I grinned, chugged down my sixth beer and pointed to the bartender, shouting, "Gimme another one, man!" He shook his head.

"I've seen you drunk before Craig, and six is your limit!" I laughed at the tenders' response, and then the bipolar hit me like a fucking 200 pound rock. I leaned over the bar, my eyes glinting with anger.

"Get me another beer… or I'll sue this place so bad you couldn't afford a fucking pack of gum when I would be done with you," I whispered menacingly. My hands shook hard when he refused to get my drink. I tightened my fist, locking my body into place, and swung, right at the guys jaw. I was drunk off my ass, but I could still throw a punch. He landed on the floor, flying back, his chin bleeding.

Marco tried desperately to hold me back, and I jumped onto the bartender before he could even touch me, my fists possessed by the bipolar kid devil that I like to call me off my meds. The next thing I knew, there were sirens. Someone had called the police on me. Craig Manning: Rock Star and Psychopath. I can see the headlines now.