It’s late. My head is pounding. My body is trembling from renewed adrenaline, and I decide that maybe sometimes, like now, for instance, violence actually is the answer. I run at him.
He doesn’t move. He stands there and lets me collide with him, actually stops me from falling even as I punch wildly at him. I’m not as tough as I assumed I was; I’m not strong enough to actually hurt him or affect him in any way. But I try, abandoning my ineffectual punches for somewhat effectual slaps. He takes every one of them, even the hard blows to his face that make my palms sting.
“I hate you!” I scream at him, looking for any flicker of emotion on his face. But there isn’t any, and a disappointment I couldn’t have anticipated sucks all the strength out of me. I fall to the floor like a marionette w
