One of these days, you're going to be screaming and yelling at me for the last time. You'll open your mouth to curse me out, but my fist will fly into your jaw to keep you from making a sound. You'll fall on the floor, where I'll follow and pin you down. You'll feel that your lip is split open and try to make a move, but my fist will ram into your face again, and again and again. There's no way in hell you're going to get away. You've had it coming for a long time.

People will scream, you'll cry for help, but you're not leaving that spot until you've bled and felt the pain I've felt. Your blood will splatter along the walls, up my arm and soak my face as my fist starts sinking lower into skull with each hit. You wont be able to breathe properly because your nose is broken, and your mouth is filling up with blood. The blood makes your gargle and choke, and you feel scared for your life. Yeah, you're gonna die. No one is going to be able to pull me off of you. No one will be your hero. You'll be without one, like me.

Finally, you'll stop kicking and screaming. You'll stop moving all together. My arms will feel like they weigh a thousand pounds from the constant hitting. I'll be tired, and they'll rip me off of you. They'll handcuff me and put me away. I'll watch them bring in the body bag and stuff you in it. There, now we're square.

There's no way in hell that you could be my mother.