What we react to in others is, most times, a reflection of what we cannot accept in ourselves.
The room is beautiful, a reflection of the woman sat silent and predatory. Immaculate and dripping in old money finery. She sat elegantly, scanning for a flaw to pounce on. A beautiful shell housing a lifetime of sin. The woman found her mark in the lady sat opposite. A beastly creature to the woman’s eye. Tainted and impure. Decaying in response to the fetid life led. The victim gave no reaction to the vitriol directed her way. Maintaining composure and stirring a fresh wave of anger in the woman.
Who was she to sit there, unmoved in the face of such disapproval? The woman doubled down on her cruel efforts. Surely the fine silk wallpaper should be peeling from the boiling resentment building. Surely the ornate, parquet flooring must be cracking from the weight and thickness of the tense air. At once charged with aggressive static, making the fine arm hairs stand on-end. The room had devolved to that of a tight cave – stiflingly suffocating.
It seemed the woman had an unending stream of putrid fervour to direct at her victim. Nothing, in the woman’s mind, was as it should be. Not the hair, the gown, the face, the posture, even the victims air’s made a mockery of the old money elite.
All of these imperfections stoked the woman’s fire, bellows to a forge. The absence of response pushing the woman into the crescendo of her antagonism. Pushed to her feet in a wave of malevolence, she finally received a reaction from her prey who mirrored her standing, yet did not back away.
Fueled by delirious fury, the woman brought her arm back to deliver a sickening blow that radiated pain through the appendage as the woman’s palm met the unyielding, mirrored surface. The echo of the strike ricocheted through the silent room in unending waves as the reflective surface vibrated from the force.
Emotion finally bled into the face of her victim. Pure hatred reflected as the ceaseless internal monologue continued, uninterrupted at the woman’s theatrics. Slumping back to her seat, the woman placed her head in her palms and wept.