The Voice

We all have a dark side. Like the old bugs bunny cartoon, old bugs always had a choice. The angel on his right shoulder would tell him the right thing to do, while the devil on his left told him to do what his heart desired. I always thought to myself, why are bug's deepest desires so evil. Are all our desires wrong for us? Is it healthy for us to listen to that little devil that sits on our shoulders from time to time?

My parents always instilled in me to do the right thing no matter the cost, so I always had a solid foundation to stand on. The first time the darkness consumed me, I was eight years old. You always feel it inside you; even as a baby, it's always there, waiting. When you are young, your choices are too juvenile for the darkness to take control. My only significant choice as an eight-year-old is chocolate milk vs. strawberry milk. One warm April day. I had to make a choice that an eight-year-old shouldn't have to make.

Mitch Porter made my life a living hell for three months. He was new to the school district and was huge for his age. Rumor had it that Mitch knocked out his teacher and did some time in a juvenile detention center. Due to Mitch's volatile behavior, he was held back two years, which was why Mitch was so damn big. I was terrified of him. In retrospect, he must have smelled my fear because the bullying started the first week of his arrival.

It was lunchtime. I was sitting at the table with my friends eating my homemade ham and cheese sandwich when suddenly, I felt a burst of pain in the back of my head. I quickly turned around and felt that same burst of pain go across the left side of my face. Mitch slapped me across my face so hard it buckled me down to one knee. He never said a word. He just took my lunch and walked away. I felt a tingle in my stomach, it was a feeling I never felt before, but I got the feeling that I have felt this tingle before. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. I gathered the little dignity I had left and gone back to class. This torture went on for about three months. Sometimes he would beat me and leave me alone for the rest of the day, or he would just take my lunch for the day. If Mitch was in his rare form, then I would get all of the above. One April afternoon changed everything

I was walking out of school with my friend Debra. I called her DeDe, and at the time, she was my best friend. We did everything together. I always looked at her as the little sister I never had. This particular day was exciting because it was a Friday, and we had significant plans for the weekend. We walked down the steps laughing without a care in the world. We walked out the front door; as we turned the corner to make our walk home, DeDe froze in her tracks. I turned and looked at her face; dread and fear were all I can see. I followed her gaze to see what could have put her in this dire state and saw Mitch making a beeline straight to us.

We decided to turn around and cut thru the park. I knew a shortcut That would get us home fast. We quickened our pace. Every few minutes, I would take a peek behind us and see Mitch hot on our heels. "DeDe come this way; he's gaining, "I said as I grabbed her arm and pulled her into a grassy pathway behind the baseball fields. I took one last peek and saw Mitch was gone. "I think we gonna be": my words were cut short by the swift pain I felt in my chest. I fell to the ground gasping for air. Mitch stood over me, laughing at my pain. DeDe ran to my side. "are you ok? Before I could answer, Mitch grabbed DeDe by her hair and violently pulled her face close to his, and kissed her. DeDe tried to pull away from him, but Mitch was too strong for her. That's when I heard the voice. "GET UP" the voice boomed in my ears "who said that? Help me, please? "GET THE HELL UP" All of a sudden, I got my wind back and got back on my feet. Mitch began to grope and touched DeDe in disgusting ways. "LOOK AT WHAT THIS ASSHOLE IS DOING" the voice got louder in my head. I began to feel all the pain, hurt, and anxiety That Mitch has put me Thru. The fire in my stomach began to burn, and I began to sweat. "DO YOU FEEL THAT?

"Yes"

"GOOD! THAT'S ME YOU FEEL I CAN SAVE YOU AND YOUR FRIEND"

"can you save us? please help us?"

"LET ME TAKE CONTROL "

"ok, just please help."

All the pain, hurt, fear, and anxiety manifested in the voice for the past three months. I looked around and found a big rock on the floor; the next thing I knew, Mitch was lying on the floor with blood gushing from the back of his head. It felt like an out-of-body experience. The voice didn't stop there. It began to kick my rival in the face. the voice got on top and began to choke Mitch; it felt good to have my hands around his neck, choking the life out of Mitch

"Let's FINISH THIS" the voice boomed in my head so loud I thought my eardrums would explode. I heard a faint voice in the background. It started as a muffle, but I focused enough to hear DEDE's voice telling me to stop your killing him.

"you can't kill him. I'm taking control."

"No, HE MUST DIE"

it took all of my mental capacity to get control of my body and keep the voice at bay. I let Mitch go, and he struggled to catch his breath. I grabbed DeDe, and we ran away.

Two things happened that day. First thing, Mitch never touched me or DeDe or anyone for that matter ever again. The second thing was I was introduced to my dark side that day . The feelings that I felt that day were so overwhelming when the voice took over and began to beat Mitch; a euphoric feeling began to overflow my body. It felt terrific to dish it out for once . But it's like a drug, and if you let it, it can take control and guide me to a road of destruction. Thru the years of my life. That voice would rear its ugly head, and for years I tried to keep it buried, but I realized sometimes you need that dark voice to get thru the most challenging times in your life. instead of trying to burry it, embrace it so you can control it make it a part of who you are