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People come and go. And when they go, the ticket to send them away is harder to give them than the one to let them walk into your life in the first place.

Those who decide to leave after stamping every dark corner of your life are more painful to lose than those who just occasionally coming into your everyday life. Still, letting any of those people go is harder than it might seem.

And sometimes, just sometimes, the toxic ones are sweeter to hold onto than the ones with the purest souls of all.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

That's how my mind works with memories.

I could remember that one time when Brian slapped me for spilling his beer all over our dark coffee table. I couldn't remember clearly how it happened, what I did exactly, or when was the first time he hit me, but I did remember that time when he had done it for a beer.

I'm still not sure why that was the memory so imprinted inside of my mind that it was clear as a day.

I even remember apologizing to him that exact night, begging him to calm down.

Also, I remember how sweet he could be.

Giving me goodnight kisses, cuddling me every time he'd come from work at late nights, asking me about my day... But I couldn't remember was it during, before, or after he'd get drunk.

Oh, God...

Brian could drink for hours at a time. Sometimes, it'd be only beer and chips, and sometimes, on harder days, it's hard liquor like whiskey and vodka.

The days when he'd drink harder liquor were firmly connected to all the bad memories.

But there were good ones too. Perhaps that was the reason why I stayed each time and gave him sweet kisses when he'd blame me for acting so irrationally that I'd threaten to leave him. I never would have, I'm very well aware of that.

No one could give me the kind of safety Brian could.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It's funny how I could remember of each little fact about Brian.

I knew he had saved me from some abusive older man.

I knew he was born at the fifth of May, a year was a bit blurry but I was sure he was at least seven years older than me.

Also, I knew what's his favorite meal, favorite beer, favorite football club, favorite ice-cream, favorite...everything.

But I couldn't remember all of my favorites.

Beep. Beep. Bee-ee-eep.

''She's going into cardiac arrest! Page doctor Stephen!''

''Do something!'' Brian. I could remember his voice clearer than my own. It was rusty, with a thick accent, almost as if he was thrown right from a cartoon.

''You need to leave now!'' A woman's voice yelled. I couldn't really sense on whom she was yelling, but I assumed it was at Brian because I could hear him struggling to stay.

He really wanted to stay with me.

I don't know why I was so scared when...When all I could remember is his face.

I felt cold fingers pressing at the side of my throat before the hard pressings began on the middle of my chest.

To say it was very uncomfortable was the understatement.

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