She drank a liter of Scotch because she didn’t want to do it.  She became defensive about four glasses in, without provocation.  "Nothing's wrong!  I just have an off day tomorrow, so why not?!"  
We were watching Sex and the City.  "I get why you like this, but I'm not sure how much more of it I can take tonight," I said in a manner all-too-loathed by those who are close enough to me.  
To say the least; I was sitting through it because I liked her more than I hated it, but I didn't see anything wrong with a little teasing.  "You don't have to constantly be watching a Polish movie from the forties, or some shit like that!"  .  Of course, I laughed, and she mocked my it, but there was no playfulness behind it.  The girl who let me put the five dollar ring on her finger at the Jefferson County Courthouse was beaming a hatred from her eyes that seemed as if it was at the point of no return.  "Chill out," I said, knowing it was her least favorite phrase.  We sat in silence until she finished the bottle, and the hatred in her eyes became glazed over enough to be mistaken for a desperately sweet glare.  Sex and the City was quickly turned off and I was overcome with a feeling of hopefulness. Her lashes only batted once, and I’m pretty sure unintentionally.  "Do you want to...go to bed," I asked in a rather oblivious manner.  She leaned over as if to give me a passionate kiss and whispers, “I want a divorce.” Before I could cry, I just began thinking about how I would escape this awful town she moved me to—so far from everyone I know—full of only bad memories now.  "Fuck you," I said; it's all I could manage to keep repeating, actually--every time, quietly and calmly, until my body allowed me to form more words:  "I think I hate you and you're a horrible person."  I thought I meant it too.  "Yeah...I know," she said; but I know she didn’t really mean it.  

She was probably thinking about the next guy she could go to bed with while she was giving me an overcompensating hug.  "Well, who are you staying with tonight," I asked her.  "I'll be here," she said.  I laughed, but I wasn't sure where it was coming from.  "You owe me one," I said as I grabbed her keys and took her car to the North Carolina border. "Get me the hell out of here," I pleaded into the phone.  Eight hours later, my hope in humans quickly returned.  An old friend I had not seen in months showed up at my door after driving through the night."Is there anything in Charlotte but banks and car dealerships?  Let's load up my car and get back to your people."