I was a sitting duck waiting for her brother to make the next move. If Joey hit me, I wouldn’t hit back. I wouldn’t retaliate. That was the scary thing about this situation. Sitting in his car, drunk off my ass, knowing that I was more than capable of beating the shite out of him, but knowing I wouldn’t. Because of her. Because he was important to her. Because if I hit him, I would hurt her. And hurting her was bad. Hurting her made me want to hurt something harder.
