I walk around the apartment, pacing back and forth, anxious, angry, agitated and scared... Yeah, fucking terrified to the core... Who in our circles don't know Michelle... Who hasn't seen her one time or the other, beating the crap out of some pool hapless soul, that thought she was up to the challenge.... And just recalling, what she did quite recently, to Emily Layne, one of her closest friends, and partner over a small argument is all I need to know, what she can do when there is no love lost... And oh boy, is there none in our own personal tango that is about to start...
I head to the small bar, and I pour myself a shot of Vodka, gulping it at once, my eyes squinting, feeling the burn travel down my throat and esophagus.... And I top it with another shot, letting the bitter liquor drip down my system, as I tense up, my nostrils flaring, my lips parting in a wide gasp. I blink hard, and I turn, feeling like a trapped animal in a cage.. I glance at the clock.. Where is she.. WHERE IS SHE... But before few seconds pass, I hear the POUd on the door, and I shudder, stirring and turning to it, my heart skipping a beat, as another loud thud resounds.. WHAMM!!!! WHAM!! WHAM!!!
And the loud, shrieky, West-Coast accent screaming at me, taunting me... little Piggy??? And a cold shiver traverses my body as you continue to almost taunt and TEASE in a sadistic tone....
I swallow hard, blinking, and staring at the door, watching it rock and vibrate from the heavy pounds, not sure if they are your fists, knees, or feet... Or even your Goddamn head... You're CRAZY like that... And what matters is, whatever is rocking the wooden door from the hinges, will be swinging at my body in few seconds.... And for a moment, the thought of just not opening the door crosses my mind... Ignoring you completely... and just wishing you away...
But you're not a nightmare.... You're not a mirage... And wishing you away, will not work this time... I look around... Should I grab a weapon??? Should I reach for the mace in my purse?? The cleaver on the kitchen counter??? Or the loose steel pipe leaning against the corner, from when the plumber was here earlier this week??? I almost go for the pipe, but I stop, freezing, thinking what if I miss, and what if you grab it??? Being beaten down by fists is one thing, but weapons takes this to a whole new level.....
Another barrage of pounds on the door awaken me from my trance, and I just grit on my teeth, then as loud as I can, I try to put the SCARIEST, CRAZIEST voice ever, I screech at you; "OH I AM COMING YOU FUCKING WHORE!!!!" I suddenly get an idea, and I rush to the door, and I reach for it with my right hand, gripping the handle, while my left hand presses on the door frame itself, I take a WIDE step back, and YANKING the door open as hard and as fast as I can, and as I do, I gamble on you trying to come rushing through the door, so I TWIST my torso hard, trying to swing the door back, in a closing motion, hoping to ram it hard into your shoulder or hip.
