I couldn't figure out where exactly my anger was coming from. All I knew was that I couldn't stop gritting my teeth, furrowing my eyebrows, and kicking.

"Get up," I yelled, as I kicked Caitlin again and latched onto her wrist, trying to drag her up. She winced, and tried to pry my hand off of hers. I watched her fight back tears and I knew I was hurting her. But for some reason, it only made me feel better. Suddenly, I heard a scream, and was ripped out of my bitter, angry world. I glanced up and was horrified to see Caitlin's mother standing beside the house, watching me beat the shit out of her daughter. The sound was faint at first and I couldn't make it out, but after a few seconds the sound of sirens rang in my ears. They were getting closer. My heart started pounding and I quickly released Caitlin's wrist. I was going to get arrested. I started backing up, prepared to hop into my car and make a run for it. More people started walking around to the front of the house from the party Caitlin's mother was having in the backyard. I looked around, scared, trying to figure out any possibility of an escape. I waited too long, though, and when I glanced back at the road, I saw three police cars drive up, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Panicking, I turned around to run, but I run straight into the chest of a uniformed police officer. He handcuffed me and almost threw me into the backseat of the cruiser.

As I sat in the police car, my anger began to subside. My eyes started watering as I watched Caitlin's pained expression as she tried to follow me. I wanted to shield my face but my hands were stuck behind my back. I was embarrassed, and even more so when I started to cry.

I loved Caitlin. More than anything. She was my consolation when my dad beat me. And I knew that the only reason I ever touched her harshly was because of the aggressive environment I was brought up in. It was a part of me that I would never get away from. And as it sunk in that I would never be happy without Caitlin in my life, I began to cry harder. Huge, heaving, embarrassing sobs escaped from me as the officer opened his door and heaved himself into the driver's seat. He glared at me in his rearview mirror and I heard him mutter something under his breath. I couldn't make out what he said, but I knew it was degrading. Who could have anything nice to say about a guy who beats his girlfriend?

I sat in the jail cell, staring at the white wall. The paint was chipping, and I had a strong urge to get up and chip more off, but the hole in my stomach wouldn't let me stand up. I ran my hands through my hair and succumbed to the urge to scream and punch something. My voice sounded anguished and pathetic as I screamed out my frustrations and punched the wall. I knew I had gotten lucky. I could've seriously hurt Caitlin. I could've broken something, or I could've killed her if I'd gotten angry enough. And she had never asked me to stop until then. She would just take whatever I'd dished out to her. I leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor, holding my head as the tears flowed out from my eyes again. I heard footsteps coming towards my cell, and I knew they had heard me scream.

"Ev'rythin' alrigh'?" I heard a gruff voice ask from the other side of the metal bars. I glanced up to see a short, fat, bald man with a ratty beard.

"Fine," I muttered. As fine as I could possibly be, given everything that had just happened.

The man looked nervous for a second. "I'm s'posed t' tell ya that y'ar startin' anger—uh—managemen' classes t'morra'."

I raised my eyes to the ceiling. What good would they do me, now? Now that I had lost everything that was important to me, and would never get her back. I stood up, grumbling, and collapsed in the creaking, bouncy cot they'd set up in the corner of the room, farthest away from the door. The small window in my cell that had been streaming bits of light into the room had lost its illumination and the clock on the wall said that it was quarter past nine.

I wasn't tired, but there wasn't much left for me to do. I watched the second hand on the old clock tick as the old man hobbled away. My mind drifted to everything I was missing that night and everywhere that I was supposed to be. I was never late and I hated having to be kept waiting. That was one of the things that always made me mad about Caitlin. She was never on time. As I thought about it, though, I realized that she tried her hardest to be early for me for everything. Because she was afraid of me. She had even stopped going to one of her classes because she needed to be on time for me. She was afraid of me and of what I could do to her. And she still never left me. I fell asleep that night, wishing I was in Caitlin's arms again, sitting in my car in front of her house, when she would just come sit outside with me and hold me after a fight with my father.