When you’re dying — when you KNOW you’re dying — and you also know that you are not ready to die, extreme terror gives way to a calm clarity of thought. At least, that’s what happened to me. In an instant, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to stop trying to pry Carolina’s strangling hands off my throat and I needed to hit her, as hard as I could hit her, in the middle of her belly.
I remembered a martial arts move that my dad had taught me awhile back. With my vision almost gone, I let go of my assailant’s hands, placed my right arm sideways across my waist, grabbed the outside of my right wrist with my left hand, pulled my left hand in towards me, which caused my right arm to sink into my belly, and then — using every ounce of my strength — I flung my right arm out like a catapult, deep into my attacker’s midsection.
Carolina said “OOMPH!” and grabbed her belly with both of her hands. Now I could finally breathe! As I filled my lungs with air, my vision cleared and I could see Carolina looking at me with an even greater outrage, if that were possible. At any moment she was going to attack me all over again, with an even deeper determination to annihilate me.
I had to act fast. There was no time to think, only time to do.
This is the cover I’ve designed for my book. Growing Up Crazy, A Memoir, is still a work in progress and has not yet been published.