His fist comes up, ready to hit, or grab my hair, or make me kneel, or toss me down. I don’t know for sure what he means to do as that hand comes for me so fast, but it doesn’t matter. Because I’m faster. Without hesitating, without thinking, I rush, not away from him, but closer. I cut the gap between us like a knife plunging forward, and then I slap my bare palm against the skin at his neck.
