Break The Beauty

 This wasn't on my bingo card for the tonight. I'd already did my makeup for a evening stop of at the gym before I go home when you asked about a fight. After all that old boxing ring has been sat taking up precious space at the shelter for as long as I can remember. Time to dust it off! So I here I can, strapping up my gloves in the ladies room. I'm wearing a white sports bra and a pair of peachy pink shorts. Lastly, I slip in the mouth guard that you lent me and head out into the dimly lit little gym where the ring awaits under old, flickering lights. I hop and skip my way over, rolling my shoulders and limbering up before I slide under the bottom rope and spring back up to my sneakers without breaking sweat. There I shadow box a little.. I'm not a boxer by trade exactly. More of a Jill of all trades and disciplines. But you've never seemed that tough. Tall and lanky but hardly intimidating. It'll be good to hone my skills and get a different kind of workout in.

 

It’s funny how a day starts one way and you find yourself in a situation you never thought you’d be in. I saw the attire that you were wearing and couldn’t resist. That old ring seemed ‘unloved’ and I figured what was the worst think you could say, no? SO when you agreed, I didn’t blink. I got into my boxing trunks, wrapped my hands, and warmed up before walking to the ring. My yellow trunks, black boots, vintage 8-ounce brown boxing gloves. I slip in the mouth guard and start my way to the ring. I see you in the ring already and realize you are just as anticipatory as I am. I slip through the ropes, and shadow box as well just to give you the sense I’m all business now. We agreed to a nonstop bout to test our endurance but you seem to think, just by your facial expression that my appearance is a tell. Keep thinking that. Time to trade.

 I pause when you enter the ring, puffy my cheeks to let out a sigh and flick my head back, flicking my pink pony tail. A sweep of my crystal blue eyes up and down your frame tells me that you're stronger than you look in normal clothes but then hey, so am I. And it's not like I'm not used to fighting bigger badder opponents. That's another story for another day though. Right now I'm moving to meet you in the middle of the ring. "This should be fun". I chirp with a cocky little smile and a flutter of my lined lashes. "I was gonna get a work out in tonight anyway. You sure that you'll be able to keep up?". I ask as I look up at you. You're taller by about half a foot at least, but I'm quick. One look at my softer though still taut little body should tell you that. "So lets just say, let the best woman win, heheh!"

I can’t help but smile through my gummed lips as you don’t waste any time deciding I’m already inferior in the ring. The original thought now has added incentive. You saunter to centre, your body language and your cocky attitude only add fuel to a fire and desire to give you the ‘glove love’ you clearly deserve. “Oh, Nina, this is gonna be more than a ‘workout’, as for keeping up, the real question is will you be able to STAY up. “ I give you the once over, looking at your shape, size, and stance. And when you, via ‘proxy’ make the bold ‘prediction’, I only need to respond, “Bring it sweet cheeks” knowing you have NO idea who you’ve gotten in the ring with. I reach out my gloves to tap, signalling the start of the round.

 How rude. I know you haven't worked at the shelter for long but "My name is Mina, Not Nina!". I spout, pushing my richly glossed pink lips into a pout as I furrow my brow and plant my gloves on the flare of my hips. "Something tells me you'll remember that when we're done!". Enough talking though, you look ready and I feel ready. So I bring my gloves up, bright pink and white in contrast to yours and touch leather. A heartbeat later and I'm skipping back to give me time to sort my feet out, angling my left forward while planting the right. My guard raises so glove my upper body as I start to shift into sideward skip around you, occasionally dropping a shoulder like I'm about to attack, hoping that you take the bait before I actually attack. That comes after I jink to the right only to lead with a twisting little jab from my left. I'm just testing your guard before I snap a more solid right straight up at you, trying to slip it through and pepper your jaw!

 "oh so sorry" I snicker a bit just knowing that would get to you. And your body English, pose, and facial expression tell me everything. “OK Mona, bring it.” As you press your leather gloves to mine and the jump right into ‘fight mode’. The pink is a bit distracting, but almost ‘cute’. In my mind I am not going to fall for the cute, cocky, yet probably not skilled opponent. I get my gloves up immediately and shift and move, on my toes, head and shoulders, bobbing, weaving, feet gliding on the canvas, a bit of dust shakes from the unused canvas, a place where your ‘hiney is going to be shortly. I’m an orthodox fighter, left lead a bit more stiff, but the right hand, loose and even daring you to ‘try ‘ to penetrate my guard. Your shoulder drop does nothing as your feet and posture are the tell, not the ‘fake attack setup’. You must really think I’m some rookie novice in the ring. You then shift a bit and pop a left jab trying to get in the pocket to reach. The jab just slaps the right side of my left glove. Your right comes next, and I smile. Such a novice… Boxing 101’s 1-2 punch, page 7…..I smile and wink the moment it comes, and I step AT you slipping the right shifting left, outside and under the right, before countering, shifting my torso and feet bringing a left hook” …issssh…”coming for your obliques and the right follow as I twist and pivot targeting your chin “…psssh…” trying to immediately test your mettle, will, … and that chin.

The moment my glove flashes past you, I snap it back into a guard position, trying to recover as close to instantly as I can. I'm trying to regain my pose so I can knock my actual name into that thick skill of yours. Maybe keep that winking eye closed for good measure. My nostrils are flaring with irritation but those are small problems compare to the blow you swing around and into my side. "ggyyyffFFFF!". I wince, twisting my body to the side after the impact into surprisingly toned and resolute muscle. Both hands stay raised when you follow up and land leather on waiting leather, knocking my left hand to the side as you force me to take a step back, putting all my weight on the air bubble in my back trainer. I'm a little flat footed and you are way closer than I want you, least when I'm not on the advance, so I trust both gloves out at your chest, trying to push you back so I shift momentum and move forward on the balls of my feet. This time I'll go low, ducking in with a couple of compact little hooks looking to pow pow into yuour sides, just above the waist band!

 Mmmm, the impact tremor up my left arm as my body shot connects flush and I hear that welcome sound of leather to flesh and that orchestral sound of an opponent’s involuntary escaped air, can’t help but know the chills are coming. That felt gooood. My right isn’t as successful but still takes you completely out of rhythm stepping back (not by choice) as momentum carries you back from the glove collision. The surprising squeak of your trainer on the old dusty canvas is a bit surprising considering its condition. “Nnf!”, your gloved shove stops my momentum, but you were certainly looking for more room you didn’t get. I tighten my guard as you shift low, gloves and elbows tight to my body…. “Nnmf, mmf!” exit from my lips when your hooks try to give my body a leather introduction, but all you do is pop leather to elbow and forearm. The second more ‘effective’ than the first as it slides off elbow and makes partial contact to my core at my trunkline. But… big mistake. I step at you and keep that closeness and snap a quick nasty left right shovel uppercut at your exposed chin… “Pssh Pssh!”…looking to snap that head back and dizzy you up a bit getting in between the elbows of those body shots.

Neither blow lands as clean as I would like. And with you standing statue still despite my push, I dont have the room to really lash out the way I would like to. Still I hear your breath over the shuffle of my feet across the dusty canvas. And then I see your glove coming up and under my body and landing square on my chin. Everything shudders and turns red for a brain rattling, bone jarring moment as I snap upright with a spray of lightly formed sweat and spit. "UuuGGHHHHH!". My head tilts back as I stumble backwards a step, bringing a slight arch to my body that stretches the smooth expanse of creamy soft flesh between my silky shorts and the tight white bra top that squeezes snug around my chest. You surely notice my guard slipping lower as I shake my head, flicking hair across my face while I clear my vision and fume at you, again flaring my nostrils. "Lucky shot!" I hiss as I throw a couple of lefts, trying to keep you at bay as I retreat, now in a more controlled fashion. I'm trying to reset before I can go in again....

OH!!! The site of you eating leather and shuddering from the impact of my gloved hammer is beyond intoxicating. Your face contorts, your hair flails, your sweat halos in the air, and your spittle trail splashes against my lank chest. Your body contorts as my success tests the elasticity of your midriff and torso. That guard now compromises is my invite to pursue you. Your head rattled, your vision cloudy I am sure. And you somehow have the composure..... to TAUNT me? "Lucky Shot?" I muse back. I can't hide the smile on my face when you swat some desperate left hands. The first hits air. The second, I look to swat it down with my left glove as I cross over trying to knock your glove down and create my own opening. I fire the counter straight right looking to crash it into your chin and face center mass.... "uuuush!".... then drop my left shoulder and bring a nasty left hook hunting for your navel ..."isssh!"... and it's friend the right uppercut hoping to plow it into your solar plexus and take your breath from you... "iiish!" trying to not give you the time to reset.

 The sound of leather on leather as you swat away my jab dismissively serves as a warning. As does that grin, like you know just whats going to happen while my own gaze darts around, scanning franticly for the follow up I know is coming. My mouth's hanging open, thick waxy pink lipstick serving as a kind of target for you while I still suck in as much air as I can. I'm already backing off when your fist explodes across my jaw and mouth and hair whips from my face as my head snaps back. "UunnGGHHH!". The impact travels through me while lights pulse in and out of focus above me. I'm dabbing my glove to my mouth, checking for blood while you shift your weight and unload again, with a heavy slap into my waist that tilts me to the right and then that uppercut. I'm ready for it. The outline of my abbs rises into my stomach as I take the punch with all the muscle I muster. Still the impact ripples through my abbs and churns my stomach. "ggyysysssppp... da... darmn!". I wheeze as I double over and through my arms around your body. I need to clinch to get a break, otherwise.. This could turn into a massacre quickly!

The impact tremors up my arm feel like explosives detonating off my hands. Your 'polished' look unraveling, getting marked up and re-imagined with each connecting flight of my gloved fists. Your sweaty straggly hair swats a bit of my cheek as it cuts through the air going by. The sweat and spittle spray freely flowing now from your head and body seems like the fourth of july. When I see you check for blood. I use that moment of joy wanting to followup, your jarbled speech/reaction is all I need to know. You're hurt.... and reach out with a gurgled gasp while folded trying to tie me up. But my left uppercut is already coming and as you reach out, my left looks to detonate into your wide open chin you left compromised as you try to clinch..... "YUSSSSHH!"... if you wanna rest, you can do so if and when you hit the canvas.

My arms flail outward as I try to pull my plush, sweaty hot body against yours only for another uppercut to rock through my tight little waist, just above my shorts. sickening pain spreads through my abbs and guts as I gag and rock off my heels, teeter on the balls of my feet for a moment. Big blue eyes lift up to look at you with shock and find no mercy.. not even a hint of compassion.. I'd thought us friends but maybe you got me into this so you could settle some score? That notions knocked from my scrambled brain when your body twists and another heavy thud crashes into the side of my jaw. My mouth guard pushes half out of my mouth while the room spins around me. The echo of that punch lingers, hitting me again in pulsating waves as I stumble a step, then drop to one knee with a glove over the side of my face. I'm still looking to the side as I pant and wheeze so deep you can see my chest rise and fall in my now sweat pathed, partially transculent top... "uughhh... awwwhhh gggaawwww". I groan. The make up I wear is still obscurring some damage. My cheek bones still shine with glitter, but you can see the redden, swelling and angry flesh starting to hint through. And somewhere.. Under all the groaning and squeaking.. You can see there's still some fight in me. My calf burns as I push back to a standing position and back away quick as I can, raising my guard tight to my body...

Two things are obvious already. 1) You're a mess physically from the barrage that continues to pummel your battered form. You're showing your heart, but you're also showing your unexpected naivete when in the squared circle. Whatever relations we had outside the ring, once inside, it's ALL business. I don't play nice, I don't hold back, and I have only one result I would be satisfied with.... a knockout. Now if that had been happening to me, so be it. But, to my overwhelming pleasure, you are the one taking the tell-tail beating with no real answer and only your pride to work through at this point. The various pleasant sounds leaving your lips is the tell..... you're hurt.... and badly. No glitter or foundation can hide that. But as the count reaches 5 while I watch from my neutral corner, I am simply shocked you get up. By no means do you look fight-ready. Your guard plastered to your body. I smile, shake my head as you attempt to retreat. "Not today, hun." as I dart toward you with one goal in mind.... bust... you ...up. My gloves loaded, i streak right at you and get immediately in the pocket. I snap two quick detonators in the form of left jabs ..."psssh psssh"...to test the waters of your defense then quickly shift, head and body, shifting right and twist my torso left looking to drive a straight right through your pourous... Yuuuuush!! ...guard aiming for your pretty painted face.

 My torso sways and circles on planted legs as I peer over my gloves at you, blue eyes somehow gleaming bright even in this dim disused room. You still just as glangly and awkward to me as you ever did, like there's no way you should be able to do this to me. Sure your taller, more muscular but it's the co ordination and precision that's been such a devastating surprise to me. You look like you should trip over your own feet and faceplant at mine but instead you dart across the ring like a bullet. I draw in a deep breath and ready myself for the onslaught, sure a chance will come up and I'll take it.. I always do in the end... the first two tap against my glove as you expect. While you swivel and pick your moment, I turtle up as best I can, looking more like a scared girl out of her depth than the fighter I claim to be... No.. the fighter that I AM!. Your finale hits firm gloves with a thud that knock my arms wide from my body and pushes me back into the ropes. "Ughhh... I am.. done letting you hit ME!". I snarl, spitting the words out before I let you a growl as a surge of emotion and frustration rushes through me. I come out swinging, wild and more a brawler than a boxer as my pink gloves sail wide left, then right vaguely toward your smug face!

When it happens, I usually smile wide, but in this case, I'd call it a very wide, smarmy, grin through gummed lips. My swiveling right's force sends your arms wide open and your hurt 'supposed boxer' form into the corner pad. Your temper overloads and you spew a barely comprehensible blurb about "...letting me hit you." The burst of adrenaline and angst combined with a compromised 'attack plan' gives me the opening I need.

You charge like an angry bull who's looking to knock the world over and step right at me with a wild, out of control haymaker combination; the first, a crazy sloppy over the top left that sweeps from way behind your head. I step AT you, then slip under it and let is WHOOOSH over my head. Your right follows and it's nowhere near a dangerous place. But it gives me the opening I need. It SWOOOSH-es by as well as I step into the pocket closer... and counter with a a jackhammer flurry... left-right-left-right..... USH USH PSH PSH.. looking to crash them flush center mass into your face....and punish you for your poor attempt at ending the fight with a single blow.

Even as I come at you like a drunk bitch outside a night club, heavy footed and swaying, my chest bouncing in that sweat soaked bra top that shows patches of creamy flesh, I know I'm going to be punished for that momentary loss of control. But My own momentum carries me forward inevitably to hit air with one hand, thump right around your body and scuff your back with the other and now your right there again. In that danger zone where you consume my field of vision but I can't react quick enough to stop you. So your fists pepper my pretty face, knocking my head side to side like a ping pong ball while pink hair erupts like bright fireworks in a dull sky. "uughhh.. aawwwHhh... EeeeeHHHH... AccckKK!!" It feels loud to me, but you don't hear the sickening crack as my nose creaks in on itself and erupts in a spew of blood across my mouth.. "GggaaawwwGGGG!!!" My gloves go up, not to guard but to try and cup my face as I twist away from the flurry of patchy colours exploding across my eyes.. Theirs welling up as pain shoots like an electric current from my busted mouth and lurch forward. With my back to you, you can see the curve of my rear in those loose yet form fitting shorts.. See the wooble in my legs as I stagger blindly around.. Occasionally flailing an arm back at where I think you might be....

 My gloves pound and pummel your wide-open face, your uncontrolled guttural groans, and the feeling when my last right lands, its accompanied sound is clear. The site of crimson staining your outfit and my gloves. Your instinctive gloved covering of your face isn't just hiding your messed up makeup now, there's an added partner smearing over it as well. Your face now cupped in leather, your footwork a dizzying mess, stumbling in all directions, then forward toward me. You stagger, back to me, the sweat and your 'up until this point' unnoticed figure suddenly tilt. that's my cue. I skip step and come at your groggy unsteady form. Your arms flailing like you've been attacked by a swarm of insects, I slip low and into the pocket and go low.... aiming for below your navel and swing a monster left hook looking to crush your body... "ussssh"... as you 're not looking good at all. then I come with a right hook as I now position in front of you as another wild haymaker swoops at air, where I am NOT. The right looks to bury itself into your pooch below your navel and set you up..... "iiiiish"... and make it clear as if you didn't already know that I plan on punishing you and putting you away.

 I feel hot drops pitter patter over the rich expanse of my cleavage and start to creep downward in ruby stains. I hear my ears ringing as I try to blink the tears away, or click the aching tension in my jaw but every blow to my bruised and pummelled face revisits like waves crashing on a shore while I stumble around, flat footed and in whailing like a wounded animal. I don't hear you til I turn around and find you waiting.. A blur of shape and movement thats coming.. "aaaiIIKK!". I squeak and bring up my gloves quick as I can while your fist ploughs into my unready abbs. Spit sprays out as my hip Jerk back, thrusting my cute little ass backwards while my body rocks forwards and sways like that.. "OooOOoohhh... OoooOOoohhhHHhh!". I'm more prepared for the follow up. THere's more resistance to the impact but it can still knock me back a few heavy steps. It still makes my guts churn and diaphram quiver... I'm panting now.. Like a thristy dog. My lungs burn for arm.. My arms feel heavy and hover around my waist band giving you a full view of the damage you've inflicted... And still I teeter backwards.. Toward a ring corner...

 There's a moment in every fight when one has the sense what the fighters' condition is and where they've experienced the most 'trauma' which could be physical, like a crimson stream down a cheek or from a nostril, a swollen eye, or a compromised mental state, groggy, woozy, with accompanied gangling legs. Or.... Emotional.. frustration overflowing, poor decision making, compromising the physical capabilities. Seeing your sexy and soundly softened form struggle to comprehend and adjust is a boxer's dream. The costly lack of defense now leaves you faltering backwards without control. And your gloves, now heavy, leave a plethora of options. I step and load up coming to inflict more punishment.... I step into the pocket and bring the leather punishers on line. I snap a nasty quick left jab at your right cheek and eye.... "psshhh".. wanting to start to close it if possible, then slide right in front of your teetering withering form and unload a right-left-right hook frenzy ...psh psh psh.... with one purpose, to clobber your jawline, dizzy you up and complete your destination trip to the corner

Have you ever faced someone so out of their depth, so utterly amateurish and pathetic. These aren't rational thoughts right now, no matter how truthful they may be. Their feelings bubbling up from within as I shuffle backwards, sidewards, this way then that, looking totally lost inside this simple squared circle. I don't even have the presence of mind to simply go down and take the defeat that's all but official in this unofficial contest. I'm not really thinking at all, just feeling the echo of those stomach punch churning my guts.. The shooting pain going through my watering eyes every time I take a breath.. And then there's fear as you finish taking in the sight and move in again, deliberate and devasting. I manage to flail a right glove toward you, though the attempt seems weak and girly. It's little consequnce to you if the pink glove lands cause even your snapping jaw lands harder, sending a spray of blood and sweet from my face... It keeps me off balance. Keeps me with something to think about long enough for you to give me something new to think about. "eeeEPpp.. EEErkkk EEeppphhh.. NnYYeeeppPP!" The world shakes around me in shifting shades of crimson as my eyes roll in my bruised and pummeled head. I can taste blood from my lips and nose.. Feel it rolling down my throat as you retreat again.. Only your not retreat.. I'm reeling back, falling back til the turnbuckle stops me and my rear nestles against the ring post. Our of instinct I sling my arms along the top rope for support. Thats when my heart sinks... I'm trapped.. Like a scared little animal in front of a dangerous predator.... "nnNNnnn.... NNnnn.... pllllsssffff... nnnnnnnnNNNnnn"

Eating leather like it's a new form diet becomes common place. Even through it all, I can't help but realize what a stunning figure you, albeit slightly discounted under current conditions. Your sounds exiting your lips originating within your lungs, driven by the relentless impacts of my gloves to your extremities. Your round and robust behind smack into the corner pad, your arms tied up into and resting along the top rope. Having the 'best' view anyone could have, I remember how the night started, conciliatory and professional. But it was obvious early on What was going to happen. And here we are. I vocalize my choice next...."Eenie"...."Meenie"..."MINA"..."MOE!"... and I step at you and snap a double left jab at your chin looking to snap your head up ...'pfft pffft"... then step into a left and right hook and cross wanting to introduce your jawline to two more leather-clad friends...."psssh psssh".. before burying my forehead into your shoulder preparing to use your sexy pooch below your navel as a target on a dart board... unleashing a lower belly flurry....left-right-left-right.... "usssh usssh usshh ussh " short and nasty inside hooks meant to destroy any last resistance your body had....and... setting the stage for the coup de grace.

 My world closes in with every step you take, til theres ust the foot or so between you and the breathing, whimpering and sobbing punch bag that you've reduced me too. I seem to shrink before you as my thighs squeeze together and my hips wiggle backward but there's no where left to retreat to. I'm trapped by your positioning and my own treacherous instincted.. My own open eye pleads up at you as tears, laced with eye shadow creep over my red, swollen cheek in a grey track. But all I see in you expression is intent and... even.. lust!? I shiver and swallow a lump in my throat as fear mixes with all the other sensations that rise from my core and ignite through my body and foggy throbbing head with every breath I manage.. "nnnnngggoooOOoooooo!!" The double tap rocks my head back, sending my hair draping over the corner as you shift my body, arching my back til my blood streak cleavage almost cushions into your body and my chins right there... *CRACK CRACK CRACCK!!!" Each hit ripples down my spine with a jerking shudder that rocks me against the pads. You see the impacts ripple across those full, bountiful breasts you were admiring just a moment ago. You see my mouthguard go flying as my head lulls to the side, blood stringing from my mouth.. Still one good eye glances up at you but I'm barely moving now... I'm too spent.. too hurt... Yet my body gleams with slick layer of sweat.. You can see my nipples, peachy and pink tinting though my soaking top. Even those shorts seen to have shrunken and crinkled inward, clinging to my hips. You lean in, so close you can swell the sweat and cooper.. your brow holding me in place here as two move blows shudder through me, lifting my feet of the ground for a moment and buckling my body inward.. Your weight and my straining arms are all the top me dropping like a felled oak tree.. "Uggh... nyyyfff... gggaawwwggg... nnnfff... pllffff...."

You lurch forward after you go on a short -lived floating moment landing and I know it's time to finish you.... your sweaty, completely ravaged form is about to collapse and i step back a half step. You begin that free fall forward and I smile wide as I reach back my right hand..... and from below my knee I start to launch a blistering and devastating right uppercut looking to smash it into your wide open chin holding nothing back. "Nighty night Mina!" and like a gladiator... "Yussssshhh!!!" I aim for the base of your chin to detonate the final blow in a masterpiece of the destruction!

Wet, choking sounds gurgle upwards as I try to breath and resist the waves of nausea that come with every steep rise of my chest. My stomach turns within the red angry bruised flesh offered up my sodden outfit. My bladder flutters as my thighs clamp other and my feet rest on tip toes. I'm already starting to slide slowly off the rope rope when you put the exclamation mark on an emphatic and total victory. "PtooffFFF!" I grunt, and shake as my head rocks back with a spray of spit and blood. I hold that position, cross eyed and drooling and complete decimated. I slump onto my knees like dead weight, then after a pause flop forward onto my tits and face and lay there, twitching from the damage and oblivious to everything around me.

The feeling as the weight of the impact tremor tantalizes my body, I see your sexy overwhelmed, completely out cold body crash to the canvas like the proverbial ragdoll, I cannot contain the chills that run down my spine, the exhilaration of completely shutting down an opponent whom had such overwhelming confidence be completely dismantled, completely taken a part piece by piece, blow by blow, moment by moment. I stand over you gloves raised. "Ma'am, next time, I suggest ......aw, there won't be a next time. " Knowing in my head you simply aren't in the same place in the ring that I am. Your arrogance leaves me little desire to assist you. I unlace my gloves and leave them lying next to you as a reminder of what weapons of destruction was used to put you away. I exit the ring with one satisfying thought, the image of a sexy, and completely overwhelmed quietly posed to be in my memory... forever.

 

 A pool of drool seeps and spreads from my mouth as I lay there, violent spasming twitches still pulsating through my body as I drift somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. There's some movement near me but that's about as much as I can comprehend. Then, everything starts to go dark.. Did you turn off the lights in here? No, I can feel their glow across my back... But everything is dark... Goodness knows how long pass til I wake. At first I think my sleep was disturbed by one of those violently brutal dreams that often wakes me in a cold sweat. But this is different.. sure, I feel cold from the draft breezing over my clammy skin but it feels like my body's be backed over by a truck and my heads stuck in a vice, ready to explode.. The slightest twitch makes me wince and hiss.. The morning sunlight stings my eyes... And then I see them... Those gloves smeared in my blood. The same one that decimated me so utterly that I feel like nothing more than a discarded punch bag. More time passes before I'm able to peel myself out of my own filth and sneak out of the shelter before anyone's up. It'll be a week before I'm back and when I am, I'll do everything I can to avoid you, or at least avoid eye contact with. Other's will notice the attitude change.. Will you tell them what happened? Or will they figuire out what a pathetically weak little bitch I am all by theirselves?