Michelle cracked. She had returned from work to find Tony, yet again, drunk and watching TV. She walked into the dark living room, took in the strong stench of stale beer, along with the monstrous pile of empty beer bottles, and knew she had to do something. Anything. And she had to do it now.
"Tony, this has to stop!" she stated, after switching the TV off in the hope of capturing his attention. After receiving no reply other than an angry scowl from Tony at the thought of missing the TV program, Michelle continued.
"We can't live like this! I'm fed up of coming home to find you in this state. You're a complete alcoholic! You need to sober up. You need to get a job. I know you had a hard time in prison, and I'm sorry, but you're wasting your life like this!"
Tony felt his heart rate rise, and he clenched his fists in rage. How dare she accuse him of being an alcoholic? After all he had done for her!
"I saved your Goddamn life Michelle!" he shouted, standing up to face her. "I went through hell in prison for you! You're 'fed up' of coming home to find me like this? How the hell do you think I felt, locked in prison? I was pretty 'fed up' of waking up to a cell every day for six months in prison! And incase you hadn't notice, I did get a job, but I wasn't even good enough for a handyman in a crappy garage on three bucks an hour!"
Michelle stepped backwards; afraid of the anger he was displaying. She had never seen him this enraged before, and it scared her. But she couldn't walk away, and leave things as they were. Something had to change. She couldn't continue to live like this.
"Tony" she said as calmly as she could, hoping that they could reduce the argument to a constructive conversation, rather than a full-blown shouting match. "I know what you did for me. You saved my life. But now you're ruining it! I love you, and it kills me to see you wasting away like this. I can't carry on like this, knowing that you prefer alcohol and a TV to me. I want to spend my life with the Tony that I married, not the alcoholic that you've become." She paused, praying that he would hear what she was saying, and not simply shout back. But he didn't.
"You don't know what it was like for me!" Tony yelled, stepping forwards. "You weren't there! You can't even begin to imagine what happened, or how I felt while I was in there!" All the memories that he had tried so hard to block out with the alcohol came flooding back to him, fueling his rage. Every snide remark from a prison guard, every moment of pain and anguish, all the time becoming more and more tempted to end it all.
"But Tony, you're out now!" Michelle argued, trying desperately to make him see how unreasonable he was being. "Why waste that freedom? Don't you want things to go back to the way they were? All you have to do is stop drinking. Then you'll be able to get a job that you enjoy doing, and you'll enjoy your life again."
Tony couldn't believe how selfish Michelle was being. She couldn't control what he did with his life! He'd live how he wanted to, and as his wife, after all he had done for her, she should accept that. "I'll damn well drink if I want to! How dare you try and tell me what to do?"
"I'm not trying to control you Tony, but we can't live like this anymore! The drinking has to stop!" Michelle's voice had become louder, and she struggled to control her temper, knowing that if she did lose it, it wouldn't help to solve anything.
A swirling mist of anger had engulfed Tony, and he was focussing all the fury and frustration that had accumulated over the last year - since he had received that first phone call from Saunders - onto Michelle. Just because she had a high-flying job at Division, all of a sudden he wasn't good enough for her? The minute he didn't have a job, and started enjoying the occasional drink, she stopped wanting him?
"You can't moan at me for drinking! If it wasn't for you, I'd still have a good job, and wouldn't have had to give up six months of my freedom! It's all your fault Michelle; you're the idiot who got caught by Saunders. I saved your life, and you're not grateful at all!"
Michelle stared at Tony in disbelief. Did he really think that? Did he really wish that he hadn't ever met her? If Saunders had killed her, would he have been happier than he was now?
"So you wish you hadn't saved my life?" she asked coolly, her voice wavering. "You wish I'd died, and then you could have kept your job at CTU?"
Tony fell silent as he processed what Michelle had said. "Of course I don't wish you were dead!" he sneered, stumbling as he moved closer towards her. "But I saved your life because I loved you! And you don't give a shit about me! I'm an embarrassment to you. I've been in prison, and I drink sometimes, and now you don't want anything to do with me!"
Michelle stood still, shocked. He hadn't listened to anything she had said. He wasn't going to change. Could she really spend her life with him, an angry alcoholic who wouldn't talk to her? Who shouted at her, and made her feel intimidated? But could she leave him? Tony, the man she had married, knowing that they would spend the rest of their lives together. The man who had loved her so much that he had given up his job and his freedom, so that she could live.
She turned away, not knowing what to do, but knowing that she had to get away from Tony in this state.
Tony lunged forwards, grabbing her arm roughly and turning her round. His arm was raised threateningly, and Michelle flinched and yelled out.
Tony stopped, knowing he had gone too far. Michelle pulled away, shaking uncontrollably, terrified. He had nearly hit her. Tony. Tony had nearly hit her.
She stumbled away, out of the house, and began to run, looking back over her shoulder, worried that he might follow her. Tears were streaming down her face as she ran. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew one thing. She had to get away from him. It wasn't safe. The man she had married, and loved, was gone.
Tony slammed his fist into the wall repeatedly. She'd gone. She'd left him, after he had sacrificed his freedom for her. Ignoring the sharp, stabbing pain in his fist, he continued to pound the wall, hating Michelle, himself, and life.