But the more I struggled, the harder she stepped.
The friction between my skin and the ground was burning, but she didn't let go even when bloodstains appeared on the ground.
Instead, she squatted down and pulled my hair. I was forced to look up at her, shaking badly.
Tears of pain fell from my cheeks.
"Now you know fear, stalking him, doing those petty thefts, weren't you scared then?" The square-faced woman slapped me twice.
She was strong, the pain spread from my face, I felt a ringing in my ears. Everything was dark, but I was forced to listen to her.
"I know you went to his house. Did you sneak into his bed, his bathtub, sniff his clothes? I've never been there, and you dare to?" She gritted her teeth fiercely and slapped me again. I shook my head frantically, struggling to bite her hand.
Her slaps kept landing on my head.
While resisting, I kept crying and explaining, "I'm not a fan, I'm his girlfriend."
But it was no use, another woman, who looked quite literary in her glasses, swore angrily.
"You're his girlfriend, and I'm his girlfriend too? You did what we couldn't do. You're really asking for it." She picked up an iron rod from the side and swung it at my face.