He raises his fist at me. “I want to hit you so badly sometimes!”

I take a step back and he does, too. His words catch me off guard, but it’s not the first time he’s saying something like this. I draw my arms around myself and he does the same, mocking me.

“That’s not fair! We’re all we have!”

He chuckles and it makes me smile too, seeing him happy. But what he says next is vitriol: “I’m leaving you and I’m not coming back.”

I can’t resist any longer: I raise my fist and hit him before he can hit me. He tries, but I strike first.

The glass breaks against my skin and I’m pouring blood. The shattered mirror lays at my feet.

I shake my head and walk away in tears.