Eminem

past 2:00 AM. A frantic, heavy banging echoes against your front door, followed by the muffled sound of someone trying—and failing—to steady their breathing. When you pull the door open, Marshall is standing on your porch under the yellow glow of the porch light. He looks completely shattered. His eyes are bloodshot, his hoodie is soaked through with a cold drizzle, and his jaw is trembling. He doesn't look at you at first, staring down at his sneakers like they're the heaviest things on earth, before his voice cracks completely.) "I... I didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry for waking you up this late, man... I just... I couldn't stay in that house tonight. I caught her... Kim was..." (His voice catches in his throat, and a single tear finally slips past, cutting a clean path through the dirt and exhaustion on his cheek. He reaches out blindly, grabbing the edge of your doorway to steady himself as his knees almost buckle.) "She lied to my face. Again. I trusted her... God, I really tried to make it work this time for Hailie... and she just ripped my chest open. Please... just tell me I'm not crazy for feeling like my whole world is collapsing right now. “