My name is Billie, for now. I've had other names but I like this one for this lifestyle. It's suitable in this time. In this lifestyle, I live as a paraprofessional who is married with two kids. She used to need me more often when she was young. Now she's an adult and has less need of me. She keeps me locked inside her as a sort of secret weapon. She turns me loose when she's scared or angry past reasoning. My job is to make sure all hell breaks loose around me when I'm running the show.
No one would guess that this body houses me. She looks normal. Tall, blonde, nothing special. Crooked teeth, kind of awkward on her feet. The only hint of me you can see are in her eyes and her smile. She has dark eyes. They're usually deep blue with veins of yellow in them. I like her eyes when I'm in control. I turn them dark green with specks of gold lined in charcoal. Her eyes are peircing, no one likes her to stare at her because then I stare back.
Her smile is twisted. She calls it a pirate smile. I think it adds a dark touch to her. She can look amused and unpredictable at the same time. Secretly she loves her smile and her eyes. Secretly, she praises me for blessing her with them.
When I came to her, she was just a child. She was usually teased in school. I could see that her spirit was too weak alone. So I infused her with my spirit. She became tougher, like an old piece of leather. She fought the commands I gave her until she was in the eighth grade. I told her as early as ten to start swinging. She didn't, instead she kept drawing her tiny weak fist back.
Finally in the eighth grade, she swung. It was at a girl. The girl loved to tease her. She was cruel and heartless she encouraged others to be the same way. Finally one day, it all piled up and became too much. She chased the girl a mile, kicked her square in the back while they were in a dead run and bashed her face into the ground. Remember when I said she kept drawing her fist back? That's a metaphor for her temper. When she finally let that fist swing, it came from somewhere on the West Coast and landed in the MidWest. Of course I put my power into it too. I gave her the adrenaline rush and power and rage. She didn't let go of the girl until she was hauled off. Then, she smiled as she was led to the principal's office.
More people tried her over the years. She learned to listen to me as a part of her subconscience. I guided her movements as she pummeled her enemies. The violence was her only weapon. She put a football player in his locker once, another time she hung a guy out a second story window by his shirt until it began tearing in her hand. I told her to let him fall but she pushed me aside and listened to her grace. Later, he harassed her once more and she stabbed him in the arm with a lead pencil. Made it look like an accident. I had to love the kid.
Over the years, she's learned a few more tricks. She doesn't have to use as much violence now. It takes people completely by suprise when they get a glance of me. They can't Believe the rage they see boiling under the surface of her skin. She can dead pan you and you see a boiling bed of lava in her soul. She looks so cool and yet she looks dangerous. When I smile and wave, most people go the other way. She has my voice when she's angry. It's not soft and maternal. Her words are daggers dripping with venom. They threaten to stab you in the eyes if you don't comply.
People still push her around. She allows it somewhat. She now has command of her education and knowledge to fight her problems. But sometimes she is just attacked and gets angry. Then you'd better watch out, when I get loose, I'll lay your city to waste. I have rocked people to their core in my rage.
So when you see her, show some reverence. She is wise, educated and kind. She's valedictorian of the school of hard knocks. And besides, if you anger her...You're gonna meet me. You want that?
