April 27, 2013
I feel that my face must be red. His mouth keeps babbling, moving, and saying something. I cannot hear exactly what he is talking about, though I don’t want to hear them either. What I could pick up is just “get the F*** out of here!”… “what the hell do y’think you’re doing!”… “you mother f****...”. His finger is pointing back towards the door. I cannot even see clearly what he is pointing at. My head is dizzy, and the bar is too dark for me to see anything clearly. But I can clearly feel the blood rushing to my head as he raises his tone. I can even hear the sound of them rushing into my cortical area, crushing with each other. My breath was going faster and faster, and I felt like the air in the room is getting more and more scant. My heart beat was racing, because I can hear it beating fast like as hell in there. I am sitting on the chair, looking up at him. He keeps spiting on my face, and that disgusted me. I don’t understand why he can so confidently believe that he has the right to tell me to get out of here. That’s ridiculous! I try to keep myself calm, and look at him spitting out trash. Sneering, I stand up from the chair and grabbed his collar, pointing his jaw with my finger and warned him for the last time
“. You…shut… your…big…fat…mouth …up ,… or ...I… will… have …you …to …pay …for… it” I stare at him and state every single word seriously and harshly.
“What? What are you gonna do? Punch me on the stomach?” he looks down at me sardonically and does not think I was being serious.
But I was. “NO, not the stomach, the FACE.”
Saying, I raise my right fist and hit him right in his left cheek. Man that hurts my hand. But that’s not the point. He is shocked by my attack, but he gets up from the floor quickly and returned a punch. It comes so quick that I didn’t even see which side it came from. I just feel that my right cheek is smashed by a stone that weighed a thousand pounds . I can...