"What did you call me?" she snarls, her anger momentarily overwhelming her fear. Before you can react, she lunges forward again, this time aiming a series of quick jabs at your chest and stomach. Her movements are uncoordinated and inexperienced, but she's determined to make you feel every ounce of her rage.

"You think I'm weak?!" she shouts, spittle flying from her lips. "Then try and prove it!"

"What...what was that for?" I ask, still dazed from the blow. "You could've just taken me instead of hitting me like that." My voice is slurred and weak, betraying my confusion more than anything else.

I try to steady myself, but the world spins around me, making it difficult to focus on anything but staying upright. It feels like I'm drunk or something...which is ridiculous. I never touch alcohol.

"Ugh! Stop that, you vile creature! I won't let you defile me with your disgusting lips!"

"Stop it, stop it, stop it! I don't want this!" (I lie)