Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
He loomed over her, his presence blocking out everything else around her as he reached down to help her up. She stared at his hand as if it were a snake about to attack, but she tentatively reached out to gingerly hold his hand. The touch, almost tender in its gentleness, was replaced by pain as he grabbed her hand and yanked her to her feet and pulled close to him. The fetid smell of his breath made her realize that he was high on Marigold. Again.
“I told you, bitch, that you would regret trying to leave me and I meant it,” he growled at her. “I’m going to take you home and show you what it means when you disobey me.” He turned around and started to walk away, her feet automatically moving to prevent falling down but she yanked back, trying to hold her ground. He whirled around, his other hand closed into a fist and he swung at her face. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel the impact on her face, but all she heard was a dull thud. Peeking out one eye she saw the fist not six inches from her face, being held by a gloved hand.
“What the …?” he muttered as he started to turn his head to see who was preventing him from punishing her. Before he could complete the move, however, the gloved hand, still holding his fist, hit him in the face. He let go of her hand and she staggered back a couple of steps, her body urging her to run, but her mind wanting to stay to see what was going on. The inner war lasted just a few seconds, but that was more than enough time for the hand, and the person to which it was attached, to hit him again and again, stopping only when the sound of a breaking nose filled the air. He dropped like a stone.
She stood there, too stunned to move, as she watched the blood drip out of his nose and start to form a small pool beneath him. Her eyes drifted back up to her rescuer’s face, focusing for the first time on who it was that had saved her from another beating. She was expecting a brute, someone to match his size and anger, but the lithe body that she saw wrapped in form-fitting leather was anything but brutish. Well-toned, was the first thing that came to mind as her eyes traversed the woman in front of her. When her eyes finally reached the face it was hidden in shadows by the hood she was wearing. The figure slowly turned to face her and pushed back the hood.
She gasped when she saw the face and took a couple of steps back as if to run away from what she saw. The face that looked like her own.
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