"She was at a party for a guy we knew that was killed in Afghanistan (I couldn't make it because of work). I got out of work around midnight, and gave her a call to see how things were going. I can immediately tell that she's hammered, which wasn't a problem. She said she had just gotten home (she lived two doors down from where the party was) but then I heard a guy's voice in the background. 'Who is that?' I asked her before she promptly hung up. So, I called again, and a guy picks the up the phone, 'She doesn't want to talk to you, motherf*cker- so suck my d*ck!' Oh... so he wants to talk to me like that? I don't think so. So I rushed over to her house and walked in. I found them in her bed in the dark and flipped on the lights. She started crying and the guy stood up... it was the brother of the kid that just got killed. I need to add that, at the time, I was 19 years old and pretty scrappy. At this point in my life I had been boxing on and off for about three years, and all I wanted to do was utterly demolish this guy... but I didn't. I knew that this guy had just lost his brother and was going through a lot. The last thing he needs is me beating his a**. So here I am with a look of disbelief, and he turns to me and says, 'F*ck you, b*tch. Don't say a single word to me or I'll kill you.' Are. You. Kidding. Me. Needless to say, I snapped. I cracked him in the jaw with a quick jab, then grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. As he stood there... fighting for air, I pulled him close and whispered in his ear, 'Your brother was a great man, it should have been you that got killed over there and not him.' I then let him go and walked out. I never said a word to her again."