SLAP! She hit me That was it: I snapped. Pouncing on her like a cat on a bird, I grabbed her wrists behind her and leaned forward. It forced her head into the couch cushions, and oh my goodness did she fight me. She flailed like her life depended on it, shrieking and twisting, trying to wrench her hands free, turning her head to bite at my arms. As I gripped her flesh and fought for control of her, I subconsciously found it symbolic: she had been fighting me all night, I've had it, and I was about to let her know it. She gave the fight her all, but I once I got a good grip on her upper arms, she was easy for me to position.