Your hand went up to your nose, a small trickle of something warm and metallic tasting seeping into your open mouth, astonished at what he had done. This man couldn't make up his mind, running hot, I love you, then cold. Throwing you around the mat like you meant nothing. Like you really were the enemy.

But your father always taught you to hit 'em back twice as hard.

And you looked up at him through your brows, and you saw red.