Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The Fight

My knees pin his arms. “Give up.”

“Let go and I’ll kill you.” More spit than words.

I land one on his cheek. “Just quit.” I’m desperate, begging.

He’s focused, hateful, determined. “Never.”

I’ve no fight left but fear revenge. My last, feeble swing drags across his nose. Blood trickles. More threats. I jump, run. He’s so close. I feel him grab at my shirt. I round the corner, desperately lunging. Slam the door, turn the lock. I gasp.

He pounds the hollow wood, screaming, promising my demise.

Shaking I sit on the toilet praying for our parents to get home.

1 comment:

  1. This one is great! Reminds me a bit of childhood. My brother and I never reached quite that point, but we got darn close a few times.