I was standing right in my own backyard when it happened. The day he told me that he cheated on me. He casually broke the news, assuming that I would forgive him and we could just move on and leave it in the past. In his dreams. First, I did a double take. He smiled sweetly while I let it sink in for about ten seconds. He thought I was handling it pretty well. Yeah, right. That was a joke. I stepped back, looking for something nearby that would get the job done. Ah. My dad’s wooden baseball bat. Then I picked it up and began chasing him around the yard. “That’s right, you better run! You’ll be lucky if you make it out of here alive!”
I screamed whatever came to my mind. He tried to talk, or yell, some sense into me while running for his life at the same time, but it did no good. He left my backyard limping with a black eye, bruises all over him, and the knowledge that he would never again cheat on another girl.
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