A Happy Ending

She lunged at me.
I fought back.
A call for assistance.
He pulled her away.

Escorted to
a separate unit,
I sit and wait
for the beast to calm down.

I see him.
Does he care?
Yes, he does,
because he's holding my hand.

Broken and bruised,
I cry in his shoulder.
Knuckles red and purple.
What happened?

I hate her.
And her best friends.
What did you do to her?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this while in a behavioral health center.

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