There were two reasons why Emma was leaving Billy. The first was his wind. He’d always been a bit windy but recently it had become a lot worse, the boy seemed to have his own eco-system. The thing was he didn’t know he was doing it. It all happened after he’d fallen asleep. She’d wake up at night gasping for air, the room smelling of rotten eggs, stale beer or worse. Emma was surprised it didn’t start raining some nights so thick was the fog that her boyfriend created; that’d be some potent acid rain she thought.
The second reason was his violence, not to her mind you, he was as good as gold to her - he'd shout occassionally but to her his bark was worse than his bite. But every Friday night he came home from the pub covered in cuts and bruises, with blood stained clothes and bloody knuckles. He'd always make the same joke - you should see the other guy, but to her it was no laughing matter. Twice she’d had to pick him up from the cop shop and once from the hospital. Would it only be a matter of time before his temper snapped and he turned those fists on her? She didn’t want to be around to find out.
So as she packed her things ready to make her escape she wondered if his farts were worse than his fights.
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