Like a discarded toy, I was shoved down on the floor, and I lifted my half-lidded teary eyes to see him smirking down at me. At that moment, I could feel nothing but hatred for him, and a gripping desire to do something about it. I wanted to fight, to kill — I no longer cared if it killed me. I just–didn’t want to be used anymore.

And so I staggered to my feet. My legs were shaking, but I leapt instantly into the fray. My fists pummeled any inch of skin I could find; the throbbing in my head was only a dull pain now. All that mattered was...