The hairs are dark and bristly, rooted in deep pores, vibrating with the motion of coming to a sudden stop. The creases are numerous, indicating age like rings in a tree. Lifting my eyes to the source, I stare into the raging poison. Although I know I should be reacting more viscerally, there’s a calm that takes over as I watch the fist of the man I married stop just shy of its target.

My face.

I once heard that narcissists are like snakes, their venom striking the deepest part of your being, with no hope of ever taming it. As I start drowning once again, in the pools of venom, I see the resemblance of a snake waiting to pounce on its prey. With the force of a prey fighting its predator, I catch my breath, find the surface and stare back, forcing the monster in my home to see my strength.

The corner of his lip twitches and I feel droplets of spit land on my skin as he growls at me, “You’re the dumbest fucking bitch I’ve ever met.”

I smile.

I’m a fucking warrior.