The Gender Game

fists connecting with that monster's face would make it all worthwhile.
My chest heaving as I attempted to regain some semblance of control, I thundered out of the room.
That girl is going to regret ever crossing paths with me.

3
I stopped the first girl I came across in the hallway—a rotund fifteen or sixteen-year-old—and gripped her shoulders. "Which room is Dina Bradbury's?" I demanded of her in a menacing whisper.
"I-I don't know," she stammered, trying to shrug away.
Cursing beneath my breath, I let her go before moving on to the next girl, and then the next. The fourth girl I stopped knew which room Dina resided in, and the moment the answer left her lips, I hurtled there.
Arriving outside the door I burst in, my fists balled so tight my short nails dented my flesh.
Dina was standing on the opposite side of the room with her back toward me. I couldn't see what she was doing exactly, but as she twisted around, her eyes bulged. I had found her alone, with nobody to obstruct my path to her.
I lunged forward and grabbed hold of her shirt. Swinging a leg behind her knees, I sent her crashing to the floor. I leapt on top of her, pinning her down. Then I began pummeling blow after heavy blow against her face.
She groaned, her large form struggling beneath me as I straddled her hips. Her head shifted from side to side, trying to avoid my beating. Then she raised a hand and managed to catch the next punch before it could connect. Her grip closed around my fist and I fought to maintain my dominance as she twisted forcefully beneath me. She managed to dislodge me with a speed I hadn't been expecting, getting me on my side. She thrust her knee upward to collide with my groin, but I shielded myself with my shins. We broke apart, scrambling to our feet. Her nose was already bleeding. Next, I would squash it flat.
I was about to close in on her again when, to my confusion, she reached into her mouth. When she withdrew her hand, she was holding the top and bottom layers of her braces.
Removable braces.
She'd managed to keep them from the wardens.
My pulse raced as I realized what she was doing. She quickly broke off the smooth rubber seal at the end of each of the wires, leaving them bare and pointed. Then she held a brace in each hand, positioning the wiry ends between her fingers so they stuck out like claws.
As she lashed out with her right arm, I swiped it with mine, knocking it away from me.
She has weapons. I can't get caught up in this. I need to get out of here, my brain was telling me, and yet my mind and emotions were dictating a different thing entirely.
I hadn't hurt her enough yet. I wanted to break her nose. Give her a black eye. Split her cheekbone. I wanted to give her some kind of permanent scar so that she would always have something to remind her of what she had done to me.
She swung out at me again, this time with both hands. I ducked, but not fast enough. She managed to catch my right shoulder, splitting the fabric of my shirt and etching a stinging cut into my skin.
And then she launched all her weight toward me at once, crushing me against the floor as I had done to her. She raised both hands and attempted to bring them down against me, wires pointed downward. I gripped her wrists, stopping them a few inches away from my body, using every muscle in my arms and shoulders to keep the wires from plunging into me. Catching the glint of malice in her eyes came as a wake-up call. I realized in this moment, she was as crazy as I was.
Neither of us are thinking straight.
Even though my rage was still running wild, this was just stupid. Really stupid.
So she ripped up Tim's picture. I can try to piece it back together again. But I can't get involved in this.
What the hell am I doing?
As I strained beneath her weight, I struggled to slip out of the lock she had me in.
I had made my bed, and now I was forced to lie in it.
If I'd had longer nails, I could've dug them into her flesh in an attempt to loosen her grip. Instead, I had only my bony fingertips to use to press down hard against her pressure points. I managed to make her left hand release its hold on the brace, but with this hand now free, she used it to clamp around my neck, crushing my windpipe.
As I gazed into her dark eyes and fought to breathe, I wondered if she would actually go so far as to kill me. Maybe Vera had been right in her warning. Maybe Dina was insane.
My vision started going hazy, and I couldn't even yell out for help. I scooped up the brace she dropped, but every part of me was screaming to not go down that road. Not to even cut her arm in an attempt to free myself. That slope was far too slippery. I was already on my last warning.
I wriggled wildly, forcing her to reposition her body in order to maintain her dominance. And as she did, I was finally able to put my legs to use. I slid both knees upward in one forceful thrust, causing her to jerk forward. Her hold on my neck loosened.
I gasped, heaving oxygen back into my lungs. My instinct was to immediately brace myself for another attack… but it didn't come.
Then I realized that my right hand—the hand that had been clutching her second brace—felt moist. In fact, my upper chest and right shoulder felt moist, too. A trail of moisture.
My eyes refocusing, I scrambled to sit upright, heaving her weight off of me.
Harrowing déjà vu washed over me as I stared at