What happened to Katie McCormack?

The last time I saw Katie McCormack was the morning after the night before; my head was a haze of red wine, sleep deprivation, and the best night of my life.  To say I was a little confused by the reception I got when my eyes finally focused on the snarling figure standing over me, would be a fucking understatement. Katie was full of fight, and I was her next opponent.  I was not impressed; I was more a lover than a fighter.

‘You fucking fucker, how could you,’ she had yelled on repeat, in a voice that I could only say resembled a deranged animal, until the couple in the flat beneath started yelling back ‘keep the fucking noise down’ and ‘put something in her fucking big gob’.

‘Look it just happened,’ I offered, continuing with ‘it’s no big deal.’  What the hell was I thinking? Of course it was a big deal. I had been in love with this woman since the moment she barged past me on the subway, before we were cheek to cheek in the crowded carriage on our way to Buckhurst Hill.


‘I didn’t mean it like that babes.’  I stepped towards Katie, at the same time she aimed a fist at my face, and I’m not embarrassed to say, that it made me want her more.

Katie, on the other hand, had other ideas, and before I could get another word out, she had launched herself at me, fists and feet flying in every direction.

‘I will NEVER forgive you!’ The venom in her words burnt through the layers of my delicate skin.

I looked around at my tiny apartment; the floor littered with empty wine and beer bottles, discarded condoms, some still in their wrappers, a half-eaten pizza and the unwanted double duvet.  Then I saw red.