Red

All you see is red.

It blinds your eyes, fills your vision, covers everything else from view.

It stays like that for several moments and when your vision clears, your ears are ringing, eyebrows are furrowed, lips in a scowl. You look at the reason for the boiling rage flowing through you. The sneers on their faces right there in front of you make the anger want to burst out of you like water out of a dam. The satisfying smirk that appears on the face of the one in the middle seems to be urging you to make a wrong move, to make a mistake that will cost you dearly.

You know you want to hurt them in the most horrible way possible. You just want someone to get rid of them. You want to unleash all of your rage—pure, blinding rage.

They raise their eyebrows at you, goading, tempting, daring you to make a move. They’re expecting you to do anything that would satisfy them even further. As if you haven’t had enough of their satisfaction already.

That’s right. Go ahead. Do it. Hurt us, they seem to be telling you with their eyes. We know you want to.

You stare at them, keeping yourself steady, careful not to commit a mistake. You clench your fists at your sides, your nails digging into your skin until you draw blood. You are seeing red again, but it isn’t as all-consuming as it was just moments before. It is calming down, like the waves of an ocean after a tumultuous storm.

They stare back at you, waiting patiently, knowing that you are about to burst. You do not want to give them any more reason to push your buttons and bring you to your boiling point again. You do not want to give them the satisfaction of saying that they won this battle.

You walk away.

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