All that Remains
Maybe it was stupid of me to think that I could get away with it and never look back. In reality it was no harder than acing a test: it just took preparation. It took time. Something I didn’t seem to have a whole lot of these days.
The first time he hit me, it didn’t feel like I expected. Or, at least, it wasn’t only pain. I felt things that are hard to describe. Like when someone dumps hot coffee on you, and all your emotions are so jumbled it becomes hard to pull them apart. The first thing that registers is the pain – the burning flesh that makes your skin crawl and your heart hammer and your body flail. The second thing that hits you is the shock. Why did he pour coffee on me? Why would he do that? Last is the anger. Sometimes it comes fast, a speeding bullet that practically skips the first two stages.
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