I think about some of the things I've experienced, some of the hurts and transgressions and such, and I imagine reacting with full force, how I want to react.

In this room, the walls are red and battered. It's a small room, rectangular, and I'm alone. I scream endlessly, I rip out my hair. There's blood on my fists. I hit the walls, I hit myself. I bang my head against the floor. I scream obscenities, and ram my body into the walls. I rip my skin off, throw it. I cry and cry and cry and cry until there's no voice and no tears, and then I lie in a heap on the floor, mouth open, voicing nothing, a silent wail. I lie like that, still for hours and hours, feeling pain and saying nothing, until my voice and power return, and the moment they do, I'm on my feet screaming and trying to rip the walls down.

There's no door.

That's a good thing. Keep this person in that room forver, if she ever gets out, I'd lose my mind.