Seeing Red

My eyes glaze as I stare into nothing, then a searing sensation in my chest sparks a vision.

I see the last person that bruised my ego or hurt a loved one. My first offense is declaring truth with piercing words decorated in thorns. They counterattack with a petty retort and instead of crumbling as I expect to with my self-esteem, a version of me, a version that sees red, smirks and accepts the challenge.

She closes in with more verbal attacks. She gets giddy when the opponent's temper rises. Physical assaults occur once her taunts are successful. She, who is me seeing red, blocks the assault and twists the fight with her incredible strength.

The more she twists, the greater the satisfaction. Her heart beats harder, her grin grows wider, she twists and twists and twists until the opponent screams. When our opposer notices the way we see red and tries to retreat in terror, we don't let them go; we refuse to offer mercy.

We finish them off.

Then, smile at all who watched us seize the life we felt entitled to destroy. Our smile asks, "Who's next?"

When the vision stops, she whispers to me, "That is how I want to earn dignity."

I agree and disagree.