i used to have a violent streak

When I was 11 I slapped my insult out of the mouth of a mean girl in the middle of the school soccer field.
Before my fingers met her icy skin, time froze, and I had the opportunity to retract my sure to sting smack.

But I didn't.

I flexed my muscle and delivered a blow with such a followthrough that it spun me around until I was faced again with my enemy.
Her nose to my chin.
I winced in anticipation for my inevitable doom.
I swallowed my mouthful of tears and willed my lip to stop quivering.
The air was suddenly thin and though I breathed deep, I couldn't seem to quench my body's thirst for oxygen.

I was in the moment before the moment.
The last fraction of time before it would be over.
Whatever the ending was going to be, it was about to happen.

My eyes broke away from her in defeat and I saw our surroundings.
Surrounded by others who shared my shock in what I had just done.

No one moved.

Internally I pleaded for her to decided my fate.
Anything but this.
Anything but silence.

I moved.

I lowered onto my heels, swiftly turned, and left her rigid body standing there mid gasp.

All this because she wouldn't stop calling me skinny.
Figures.