prepared to go; i had not planned on it until after graduation still a year away. i begged her to tell me why.
“why?” she repeated in a mocking voice. she paused as if she wanted it to really hurt when she answered. when my eyes met hers she continued, “because … i … don’t … want you!” and then she spit on me.
for the first time in the four years of her daily emotional and physical abuse, i struck back. i slapped her as hard as i could … the way she had hit me for years … so hard that she was almost knocked out of the chair. then 