She felt her knuckle dislocate. Some of her ribs were cracked, or broken. A few of her teeth loosened, her jaw was on fire, and something not good was going on with her eye. Didn’t matter, she thought; almost done. The man beneath her had stopped struggling, a wet mess where his face once was. She hit him again anyway.
The second man lay, near fetal, in the bushes by the car. A low choking gurgle came from something, not his mouth. She would tell the police that she remembered nothing. They had slipped her something, she would say, and it made her black out. Her friends and family, she would tell them the same thing. After the bar, it was a complete blank.
Of course she would remember. She always remembered.