Mia Fenice

“Slut! I should have killed you a long time ago,” she screams as she lunges, grabbing me by my bun, but before she can pull it, I hit her in the eye once again. She cries out in pain and stumbles back. Before she has time to recover from that blow. She drags me to the ground with her and punches me in the stomach. I wince from the pain but quickly recover. She’s trying to hurt my babies. Rage fills me as I slam her head into the ground. Then I punch her as she screams and begs me to stop. I’m not even sure what’s happening anymore, all of this rage is coursing through my body like a wildfire burning down everything in its path: every memory of every punch, slap, or kick she’s thrown my way gives me more strength to keep hitting her. The first drop of blood trickles out of her nose, causing me to pause and pulling me back to my senses. What? I look at my bruised fist and her face. The anger burning in me makes me want to put her on the ground, but I can’t give in to it or I’ll become ju