A Violent Encounter

He turned to look at me, hate clear across his face. "Fuck you! She's my daughter," he shouted, yanking her roughly closer to him. She turned and tried to push him away. His face turned hard. I lunged forward at the same time he slapped her hard across the face.

I grabbed his shirt and punched him full in the face, enjoying the satisfying crack his nose made as my fist connected with it. I pulled back my arm and punched him again and again, ignoring the pain each blow caused in my hand. After the fourth or fifth punch his body was going a little limp so I shoved him against the wall so I didn't have to hold him up, and punched him over and over. I put all of my hate into it, all the anger and hurt and helplessness that I'd ever felt when I would watch my girl cry herself to sleep. I would never let this man hurt her again. He slumped to the floor, wrapping his arms around his head, but I didn't stop, I couldn't stop. So I started kicking him instead.