I know that Gabby will lose her job. This is perfect, and so I do the only thing I can do in this moment.
“Go ahead, beat me up! Your mother's still dead and your husband still left you!” I scream as Gabby punches me in the face and in the stomach.
I do my best to shield my face, but the fists keep breaking past the barrier.
Not my nose.
That's theonlything I'm worried about.
I keep seeing stars, but my strength is knowing that I have the upper hand in the situation, even despite the pain.
I learned to take a beating, having been in a domestically abusive relationship with my ex, and the one before that, where we were both fist-fighting each other.
He wasn't a big fan of me going out and hanging out with other men.
And I wasn't a fan of him sleeping with women and calling them over as soon as I was gone.
Not that I cared that much about him, but it was downright disrespectful.
So this girl could take a beating, because even though Gabby hits hard, I’ve taken hits from men a lot harder.
So my laughter flows as Gabby continues assaulting me, while all I can do is shield my face as best as possible, not too much, because I want there to be marks on my face.
Maybe Lincoln will finally see his ex-wife for who she is.
Gabby’s breathing hard now, probably winded. Probably disappointed that she hasn’t knocked me out yet.
“Still going to go home and fuck him tonight though. Still get to suck his cock. He even admitted to me that while he was with you he was thinking about me. As guilty as it made him feel his mind was always on me. And the only thing you can do is physically hurt me and get yourself fired you dumb fuck hahahaha,” I laugh, almost maniacally, even surprising myself.
It’s the only defense I ever had against things like this. Most girls would cry and cower and run to battered women’s shelters.
Not me.
The early portion of my childhood, I grew up watching my dad beat the shit out of my mom, and my mom doing the same to my dad.
Commitment made them monsters to each other, and marriage would have made things worse, but now they’re the best of friends, probably because they went through all of that together.
I could fight back, but it will look better if I’m the victim.
“Are you ready?” I ask, my mouth filled with blood. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHH HELP ME!!!” I scream.
The sound is so loud it seems to catch Gabrielle off guard.
People charge in and pull the crazy bitch off me. I play the role, crying on command.
I pretend to stumble forward… until I realize wow, I reallyamhurt.
Adrenaline is one hell of a drug.
Jesus, look at all the blood.
There’s a big commotion, people yelling at Gabrielle. Lincoln eventually turns up at my side when everyone carries me outside.
“Should we call the ambulance or the police?” some person asks me.
I cry, still playing my role, and nod demurely.
“What the fuck happened?!” Lincoln asks.
