“Get off me,” he snarled. I wanted to hold him in place until he learned his lesson. I wanted to embarrass him in front of everyone. I wanted to beat him to a pulp. Let him know what it felt like to be picked on and laughed at and treated like dirt. It had been so long since I’d felt that kind of anger. It came to me like the taste of bile, foul and hated but familiar. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted his blood and spit on my knuckles and over the door of the busted car.
