Page 18 of Citrine

Suddenly I can't take it.

I fled an abuser, lived on the street, pulled my life back together a little more each year… for what? Just to be on thismaldito… terrible planet? With this monster?

Something in me snaps.

Irritation bubbles up inside me, mingling with the fear that threatens to consume me, and in a moment of defense, I do something I know I'll soon regret.

"Uy, qué care-chimba," I mutter, then yell it in English to help fortify me further. "You dickhead!"

I rise shakily, my whole body protesting, though not as loudly as before.

I grab a handful of pebbles from the ground, my fingers trembling with adrenaline as I take aim at his dickhead face.

Each stone punctuates my frustration and anger as it pelts off his smooth skin.

With a growl that makes my stomach turn upside down, he reacts like an enraged beast. The dangerous sound echoes through the air and I wonder if it is just me and him on this island.

It's a primal sound, one that triggers a surge of fear within me, reminding me of my vulnerability in the face of this powerful creature.

Indeed, I am weak, but as they say, fake it till you make it.

"Hijo de puta," I curse again in Spanish.

I wish he knew I was calling him a dickhead son of a bitch.

Finally, one of my pebbles strikes him squarely in the eye, which he barely closes in time. A small victory in the face of overwhelming odds.

It only serves to stoke the flames of his fury and the part of my mind that usually helps me avoid really stupid actions starts to reassert itself.

His growl intensifies, reverberating through the air like the roar of a hurricane, all howling wind and destruction. I find myself frozen in place, my heart pounding in my chest as I await his next move.

"Stop," he bellows as he makes his way toward me.

I can't back down now. Everything mypadretaught me about bullies, which I abandoned in all those years of trying to stay small to avoid being hurt, comes rushing back.

Never let them see your weakness. They are all cowards inside.

I can see the intensity in mypadre'sblack eyes as I remember, and it fills me with confidence.

Or more stupidity, but I go with it.

"You think you can scare me?" I retort, my voice trembling with adrenaline. "You think you can just threaten me and expect me to give in to fear? I'm not some helpless victim you can push around!"

I have definitely lost my freaking mind.

Of course he can push me around. He has a million limbs, and they all look like they could snap me in half.

None of that shows as I take a big breath, then scream back my own inarticulate hurricane cry. Sounds a human should never be able to make, and they somehow make me feel bigger than I am. Stronger.

If he kills me, at least it will be on my own terms. I've allowed myself to be far too small for far too long.

It got me nowhere but arrested one moment and here the next.

My mind pulls up an image of my stepfather on the stretcher and I wait for the horror to rise, or to wonder if he's still alive, butthere are no regrets. My only regret is how long it took me, and that he might not be dead.

It was easier than I thought and maybe I need to stop underestimating myself.

Yes. I'm done.

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