Crack! A steel toe motorcycle boot struck her lower back as she lay on the barroom floor. She tried to roll into a ball. Crack. Crack. Crack. Boots kicked her back. Her spleen ruptured. Her kidneys bruised. Her ribs cracked. She rolled to the left. In slow motion, a black boot swung directly toward her eye. Pims turned away. Crack! 
    The boot caught her brow bone. Her head whipped back from the impact. Her retina detached like an elastic band snapping in her eyeball. There was no escape. The men, strangers, hovered all around her. With her good eye, she looked up from the floor. Blank faces watched. At the bar, two long-haired men in denim threw their full weight against two leather-clad bikers to stop them joining in. "Leave it," she thought she heard them yell. The four men tussled at the bar.
She closed her eyes. When will it stop? she thought in desperation. Another boot kicked her lower leg. Crack. Someone kicked her arm then stamped on her hand. There was nothing she could do to save herself, but suddenly the stomping stopped.

      She lay motionless, eyes closed, for what felt like an eternity. Desperation forced her to find strength and courage that she never knew she had. She stood up slowly, swaying unsteadily on her feet. A space cleared around her.

    Tears of humiliation and anguish flooded her eyes. She bit her bottom lip, refusing to cry. She felt like a broken doll. Her body jerked like a puppet without strings, awkward and disjointed. Pangs riddled her body, each step brutally painful. With a few steps, she reached the bar and ordered a beer. With shaking hands the barkeeper poured one fast. The barkeeper looked afraid as he handed her a beer. A faceless crowd watched her hobble to a seat near the bar entrance. She took a deep breath. Sharp pains stabbed her ribcage like a switchblade knife. Pims gasped. Confused, unable to understand what had just happened, she forced herself to focus. What did I do wrong? she asked herself. Her back ached. Her head throbbed. Her swollen left eye was blind. Everything around her appeared disjointed and surreal. Someone's laughter roared above the noise of the crowd. Are they laughing at me? she wondered.
Again, Pims tried to collect her thoughts. When I walked over to the bar, I just stopped to see what motorcycle magazine they were reading. I just wanted to say something to them. For the last couple of months, I've been coming here hoping to make a friend and get accepted, she thought bitterly. But, tonight Pims stood too close to a group of bikers. Before she found the courage to speak, a biker turned and pushed her hard. Pims fell to the floor. Without warning, the bikers stomped her. Like a pack of rabid dogs, they attacked her - the weakest one there.
Yet Pims felt proud of herself for trying to maintain her composure. She raised a beer glass to her mouth. The motion felt difficult. Her crushed hand throbbed. She could barely lift the beer glass. Her swollen lips felt like she’d just left the dentist’s. Unable to sip from her glass, cold beer dribbled down her chin. Surely everyone can see how brave I am, she thought. I’m biker material. She imagined the biker crowd admiring her, thinking how even a stomping hadn’t fazed her. Pims sat alone with her crazy thoughts. The beer glass slipped out of her hand and smashed onto a beer table. Fragments of glass flew in the air, glistening like shards of ice. Blackness descended rapidly. Badly injured and concussed, Pims slipped into unconsciousness. Somewhere in a pain-free black abyss, Pims dreamt that angels came, lifted her and carried her away to a safer, happier place.