The moment the cutting words had spat out of my mouth,

He clenched his fists,

And stared daggers at me

His bright green eyes seemed to contain venom,

Slicing through

Every inch of my soul

Rage boiled inside him,

Hotter than hell

As his face turned pure blood red

And his nostrils flared

Legitimately,

In an instant

Steam seemed to stream out of his ears

He looked like a bull,

Which had been enraged in school

My heart pumped and thumped,

Inside my ribcage,

Just like a sledgehammer,

Like African-Bongo drums,

As my hands turned wet and clammy,

Sweat trickling rapidly down my temples

Butterflies, ranging in the thousands,

In my tummy,

They fluttered about,

Round and round

All that remained was a humongous lump in my throat,

Absent of any saliva;

I needed an antidote

I fixed my eyes,

To the ground,

So as to evade his menacing glares

A cold chill ran down the length of my spine,

Sending goosebumps to break out like an infection

If looks could kill,

I would have withered to the floor right there and then

If looks could kill,

I would have dropped into the depths of the well

If looks could kill,

I would have met my death right then.