Carl was angry, maybe at himself, maybe at Emma, he wasn't sure, he didn't understand what was going on. He didn't understand why Emma was being like this. They had been fighting for a little under 10 minutes now. "Emma, we've been together for months, I don't understand" he wasn't talking angrily. She could see the anger in his eyes though.

"I know, I know, Carl. I'm sorry," Emma replied to him, she was sitting on the couch and he was standing, leaning against the wall looking at her with his arms crossed. "but I've told you before. I'm not ready yet"

"When will you be ready? A month? A year? Never?" He was yelling by the end of his question. His voice was echoing in their apartment. It was hitting every wall and bouncing back to Emma just to really dig into her skin. "Is it me? Is that why you're not ready to have sex? Is it just that you don't want to have sex with me?" Emma didn't respond to Carl's questions. Emma loved Carl. She did, but she had never had sex with anyone. She wasn't ready. She knew that she should be, but she just wasn't. Her parents always told her not to let anyone pressure her into anything. Not to give into pressure if she wasn't ready to have sex. Of course, her parents were telling her this when she was a cute, little, red headed teenager. Not when she was a mature, married adult. "Answer me!" he shouted at her, it made her jump a bit.

"I don't know Carl! I.. I wish I was ready. I want to be with you, but I'm just.. not ready, okay?"

"No, it's not okay." Carl's response made Emma confused. What did he mean it wasn't okay?

"What?"

"It's not okay Emma. I love you, and I want to have sex with you, but even more than that I want you to have sex. I want you to take that step, it just so happens that I want it to be with me" He wasn't yelling at this point.

"Do you think I'm proud of being a virgin at my age? I'm almost 30 and I've never had sex. It's... something I have to deal with Carl. I've always had to deal with it, not.. not you."

"Then do something about it!" Carl was back to yelling. Emma didn't know what to do, she stood up and walked to their bedroom when she began to pack a bag. Not a suit case, just an over sized bag. She mumbled something under her voice to Carl about how she was going to go sleep at a motel that night. She told him that she was sorry and that she could tell that he needed space, and that she could use some space, as well. She walked out of her bedroom and towards the door. He stopped her by grabbing her arm. She looked at him in confusion. He wasn't letting go.

"Let me go, Carl" she asked the first time, casually, but when he didn't let go, she asked him a few more times, while trying to escape his grasp. He grabbed harder until he had both hands on her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. "You're not leaving" he protested, angrily. She tried to push with all of her body weight away from him. She tried to force her way out of his grip but when she did, he just pushed her back harder. Her head slammed against the wall, cracking the dry wall a bit. This shook Emma and she couldn't think straight for a few seconds.

"Carl! Let me go!" She finally pushed him off, and jogged to the door. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back, punching her in the stomach. She fell against the wall, grasping her stomach. She didn't really know what was happening. She was still holding her stomach while she was leaning against the wall, crouched over a bit. Carl put his hand on her chin, raising it slowly, instructing her to stand up straight. She had tears in her eyes, but did what she was instructed to do, to help to protect herself. When she was standing up right, eyes watering, she looked at Carl.

"Where ya going, Em?" he had a look in his eyes that Emma had never seen before. A look of evil. As if he were enjoying this. She didn't answer and he asked her again. "Emma? Where're you going?" She still didn't answer and he raised his hand and hit her across the face, slapping her hard. She didn't try to push him off this time. Her first instinct was to raise her hand to her face. The newly red, throbbing, sore, stinging mark on her face. She began to break down in tears, and she fell to the ground. Carl stood over her, watching her, as if he were a hawk, circling his prey. "Stand up" he said. "Now" she didn't stand up. She couldn't. She had been slammed, punched, and slapped. She didn't have it in her. She's a very tiny girl. She just sat there, with her knees up to her face, crying, silently. She didn't want him to hear her crying. He grabbed on to her arm, once again, and pulled her up. She let him pull her. She didn't have the effort to put into standing up on her own. His grasp was tight, and hurting her, but she didn't have it in her to stand up.

"Look at me" she looked at him. Her eyes were red, watery, and bigger than usual. He still had his grasp on her arm. He squinted his eyes and pushed her to the ground. She slammed against the ground and her arms collapsed under her, no longer helping her land as gently as possible, and she slammed chest first into the floor. "Get the hell out of here" he proclaimed. She sat there for a few moments, trying to get the strength to get up and leave, but she couldn't for a while. Finally she pushed herself up, grabbed her bag, and opened the door. She looked at Carl, he was leaning against the wall where she had broken the dry wall with her head. She closed the door and left. A million things were running through her mind, but the most prominent was "Will". She got in her car, and she drove to Will.