Prose

I saw his brother hit him. He fell to the ground, but I'd already started running. 'Stop!' I shouted, putting myself between him and the angry fists. 'Don't hurt him, don't hurt him!'
I stood with my arms outstretched, I don't know why. It seemed the best way. 'Don't hurt him,' I repeated, 'please don't hurt him' Then there was a second blow, across my face. His eyes were full of hatred for me. I stood firm. Another blow made me stagger, the kick to my ribs buckled my knees. But I wouldn't let him hurt him. My arms were still outstretched, a crucifix. I was hurt, senses reeling, a dull pain taking root in my head and torso. I raised my eyes to him. I wasn't scared. He lunged forward and seized my wrist, dragging me to my feet. I felt the bones in my wrist grind together before something broke. The pain shot through my arm, I wanted to cry out, but I wouldn't. He wasn't going to beat me. I looked him straight in the eye. It felt like forever. Then he abruptly let go of my shattered wrist and I dropped to the ground. There were legs, bystanders. I think I heard sirens. And my boyfriend's hand on my arm, his voice filling the world before it turned black.