Fists slam into my face again and again, my head jerking from side to side. This completely disorients me, my hands fall down. My body stays on my knees just because you hold my hair.
"Ohh no... Ahh... bitch..."
I'm dizzy and feel like a punching bag.
My fist starts to hurt from the constant beating on your cheeks and lips. “Take… this… you Russian… skank!!!” I yell in between punches, noticing how your strength fades away, your arms now hanging at your sides and all will to keep on fighting gone. I keep pounding on your face with a smile on my face, just for good measure, before I toss your head back, letting you slump down on your back, while still on your knees.
Getting up, I readjust my dress, pulling it down, combing my hair back with my fingers, then cleaning my knees and legs. “That’s what you get for messing up with a Mexican slugger” I say looking down before spitting down on your face, walking away, all bruised and dizzy, but a winner nonetheless.
Somebody will find you tomorrow morning there. Probably the trash guys. Hopefully they are on duty and take you out, Julia.