“I hammered him with my fists. He just stood and took it. He didn't suffer graciously, he looked pissed off to no end. But he let me hit him. And he didn't hit me back.”
In this quote by Karen Marie Moning, the speaker describes a physical altercation where she is the aggressor, repeatedly hitting someone who does not fight back. The fact that the person being hit does not retaliate, despite looking angry, suggests a sense of control and restraint. This could be interpreted as a demonstration of strength through non-violence, as well as a refusal to engage in a destructive cycle of escalation. It also highlights the power dynamics at play in the situation, as the person being hit chooses not to respond in kind, potentially diffusing the conflict.
In this quote from author Karen Marie Moning, the character describes a situation where they physically assault someone who chooses not to respond in kind. This concept of non-violent resistance is still relevant today, as individuals and movements continue to use peaceful protest and resistance to stand up against oppression and injustice. The ability to exercise restraint in the face of aggression is a powerful tool for bringing about positive change in the world.
In this quote from Karen Marie Moning, the protagonist describes a situation where they physically attacked someone who chose not to retaliate. This example showcases the concept of suffering graciously and suppressing the instinct to respond with violence.
Reflecting on this quote from Karen Marie Moning, consider the following questions:
“I felt the electricity of his body behind me as he reached around me and took the card from my hand. He didn't move away, and I battled the urge to lean back into him, seeking the comfort of his strength. Would he wrap his arms around me? Make me feel safe, if only for a moment, and if only a delusion?”
“He swapped the fistful of my shirt for one in my hair, and ground his mouth against mine. I exploded. I shoved at him, and clawed him closer. He shoved me back, and yanked me tighter to his body. I pulled his hair. He pulled mine. He didn‘t fight fair. Actually, he fought exactly fair. He didn‘t extend courtesies, not a single one. I bit his lip. He tripped me and pushed me down to the stone floor of the cavern. I punched him. He straddled me. I ripped his shirt down the front, left it hanging in tatters from his shoulders. "I liked that shirt", he snarled. He rose over me, a dark demon, glistening in the torchlight, dripping sweat and blood, his torso covered with tattoos that disappeared beneath his waistband. He grabbed the hem of my shirt, tore it straight up to my neck, and inhaled sharply. ”
“Barrons had just given me the most carnal, sexually charged hungry look I'd ever seen in my life, and I was pretty sure he didn't even know he had done it.”
“He didn't just occupy space; he saturated it. The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him.”
“Had he stood outside my door as I'd stood outside his, fists at his sides, lips drawn back? Did it have him as bad as it had me? Was it eating at him, gnawing at him with the same sharp vicious little teeth that wouldn't let me sleep? Yes, it was. I could see the rage of insatiable uninvited lust in every line of that dark, stoic face that had once been too subtly etched for me to read. I wasn't the only one lying awake at night, fevered with memories, tossing, turning, soaking my sheets, burning up--not for Fae sex, but him, damn it all to hell, him.”
“He didn't just kiss, he claimed ownership. Took her mouth with urgency, as if his life depended on his kissing her.”