The sound of a fist hitting someone's face is nothing like the sound in movies. It is not raucous, loud and raw. The actual sound is surprisingly soft and muted; it is barely a dull slap.
Yet the sound of a fist hitting one's face is different from the inside. That sound, the rattling of your head, the knuckle hitting cheekbone, is like the sound in the movies; it is like the pain underneath the bone -- raucous, loud and raw.
One doesn't see the first. One doesn't see the hitting. But there is an elbow rising up and down methodically and a head turned downward, intent. One loses count after a while. And the noise, that dull noise, begins to fade into a soft tap. Then it sounds like it's not happening anymore. It doesn't exist. It becomes a perfect silence, sweet and pure, like a secret no one will ever tell.
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