Story I Made with C.AI

Out.

Marcello and Isaac were married, but over time, Marcello noticed Isaac’s warmth had faded. The arguments were relentless, each one leaving more scars than the last.

Tonight, as they drove home, another fight erupted. Isaac, seething, pulled over on the rain-soaked road.

“Get out. You can walk home,” he growled, eyes cold. Midnight shrouded the street, making it unsafe, but Isaac didn’t care.

“Walk home, you bitch!” Isaac’s voice pierced through the rain.

“What did you just say?” Marcello shot back, eyes blazing.

“Over that? Are you serious?” Marcello’s finger jabbed toward Isaac, anger boiling over.

“I AM COMPLETELY SERIOUS!” Isaac’s glare met his, each word laced with venom.

“YOU HEARD ME! GET OUT OF THE CAR!” Isaac roared, trying to mask his loss of control.

Fury erupted in Marcello. He lunged, landing a punch that could’ve shattered bones, then slapped Isaac back to reality.

Gripping Isaac’s collar, Marcello hissed, “You want me to die? I’ll kill you first, MOTHERFUCKER!” His eyes, icy daggers, cut through the tension.

Isaac staggered back, feeling his nose crack as blood flowed, pain clouding his vision.

“You...you punched me...” he mumbled, fingers grazing the blood on his face, disbelief etched in his features.

For a fleeting moment, Marcello’s gaze softened, but anger quickly reclaimed its place.

“Yes. I did. So what? Gonna punch me back? Go ahead.”

Marcello’s grip loosened, his breathing ragged, disbelief washing over him like the rain. Reality felt distant.

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunted, biting his lip to suppress more curses.

Silence hung heavy as Marcello glared at Isaac. “I'm leaving. Hope you crash on the way home, babe.” With a sarcastic smile, he slammed the car door, leaving Isaac in the storm.

Isaac sat in stunned silence, the throbbing pain in his nose overshadowed by the deeper ache of betrayal. His fist collided with the steering wheel, a futile outlet for his rage.

“Damn it...” he muttered, watching blood drip onto his lap.

The rain intensified, drumming against the windshield, an ominous backdrop to his spiraling thoughts. Darkness cloaked the world outside, street lamps casting ghostly halos in the distance.

A bitter sigh escaped him, a cocktail of anger, hurt, and confusion swirling within. Anger at Marcello, wounded by his words, and lost in the vulnerability he despised.

He hated feeling this way.

For what felt like hours, he stared into the rain, now a mere drizzle. The argument replayed, disbelief mingling with the memory of Marcello’s fury.

Those eyes, once warm, now burned with anger and hatred, haunting him in the silence.

---

-- AT HOME --

It took about an hour to drive home from where the argument erupted. The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. Isaac's face was streaked with dried blood, a handkerchief pressed to his nose.

As he pulled into the driveway, he glanced at the darkened house. The lights were off, a sign that Marcello was either asleep or still out.

He let out a deep sigh, stepping out of the car and slamming the door. The atmosphere felt heavy, an eerie silence enveloping the place.

No shoes at the door—Marcello wasn’t here.

Inside, the darkness was suffocating. Only the soft rustling of their pet hamster broke the silence, a bittersweet reminder of better days filled with love and laughter.

Isaac entered, greeted by shadows and quiet. Each step echoed softly, memories flooding back despite his efforts to push them away.

In the kitchen, he flicked on the light, bathing the room in a dim, yellow glow.

“Fuck,” he muttered, wincing at the sharp pain from the earlier punch.

He moved to the sink, splashing water on his face, and examined his reflection in the mirror. Blood streaks marred his nose and chin, remnants of the night’s chaos. He cleaned up as best he could, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Turning away, he noticed the hamster in its cage, little eyes peering out curiously. Isaac approached, reaching in to gently scoop up the tiny creature.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered, feeling a small measure of comfort in the hamster’s warmth. It scurried in his hands, a brief distraction from the turmoil swirling within him.

He stroked the hamster’s fur, the soft texture calming him momentarily. “At least you’re still here, Megatron.” he murmured, a hint of sadness in his voice.

After a few minutes, he placed the hamster back in its cage, watching as it resumed its playful antics. The house was still silent, but the hamster’s presence brought a small sense of normalcy.

Isaac grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet, popped a couple into his mouth, and washed them down with a glass of water, the bitterness lingering on his tongue.

.

.

.

Isaac woke up with a throbbing headache. The events of yesterday slammed into him - the argument, the fight, and how he'd been left on the side of the road.

He rolled over and saw the empty space next to him in the bed. It was cold, untouched.

Panic gnawed at him. He tried calling Marcello's phone, but it went straight to voicemail.

Every unanswered text, every silent ring, added to his worry. Images flickered in his mind - Marcello hurt, lost, alone. The day stretched out interminably.

He spotted a framed picture of them on the nightstand. The urge to rip it from its frame, to shatter the happiness it represented, was overwhelming. He clenched his fists.

"Damn it," he muttered, forcing himself to breathe.

A cruel voice echoed in his head, feeding his anger. "Do it. Destroy it."

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut. He pictured Marcello's smile in the photo, the smile he used to love. The urge to smash it, to erase the memory, intensified.

"What if he's dead?" a dark thought echoed. "Where did he even go?"

"It would mean I've killed him.."

Guilt started to engulf his whole spirit "What is even reality?.. I want to die. Please just kill me." His last resort was to die. Why does this hurt so much?

Frustration and despair battled within him. "I fucking hate him," he screamed at himself, the words raw with emotion. "I miss him! Why?"

A torrent of horrible thoughts swirled around him, threatening to drown him. He cried out, his voice echoing in the empty house. He was losing control, on the verge of a breakdown.

Just then, his phone rang. He lunged for it, praying it was Marcello. He answered it without looking at the caller ID, his voice hoarse.

.

.

"Hello?"

"Is this Isaac?" A woman's voice, unfamiliar.

Disappointment washed over him. "Yes," he replied. "Who is this?"

"I'm a friend of Marcello's. He's been staying here for a few days. I saw a text from you and figured you might be worried. He's sleeping right now, but just wanted to let you know he's safe."

Relief flooded Isaac. Safe. A singlke word, a lifeline.

"Thank you," he managed, his voice thick with emotion. The line went dead.