text: As I’m about to signal for another cab, I hear a cry of pain behind me. Whipping around I see him pushing on her shoulders, crushing her to her knees. The whiskey sitting on my empty stomach makes my eyes spin, but I know what he’s doing. She said something he doesn’t like and he’s reacting. She cries out for help and I know what I must do. Seeing a loose brick on the ground I snatch it up and sprint the few steps towards them, lashing out as I arrive. My blow is not strong, but it hits him in the head and he drops to the ground. I’ve never hit anyone before with the attempt to maim, but suddenly I’m exhilarated. I’m protecting someone. I’m a hero! The feeling flows through me even before I’m done with the follow through. He is down on all fours, woozy, and I know he needs to learn a better lesson than just a bruise. Righteously, I raise the brick over my head and swing.
  “Stop! What are you do-!” Her voice cuts off as the brick smashes her forearm, splitting the skin and crunching through bone.
  She shrieks as I recoil, dropping the brick and realizing what I’ve done. I don’t know why she’s defending him. Surely he was doing something he shouldn’t. That’s the only explanation, right? The club door slams open and the bouncer crashes out. He looks back through the doors and orders, “Call 9-1-1!” and then rushes to the two people on the ground at my feet.
  Within seconds the sidewalk fills with club patrons. I hear someone say their calling the cops. Numb, I begin to edge away and then stumble away from them. I run out of sight of the club, of her, of the man on the ground, of the patrons outside the club. I don’t know what to do. All that righteous anger, held for so long and I finally get a chance to use it and I become the attacker, leaving victims on the ground! I keep running until I think I’m safe. Somehow the assault I just perpetrated is still justified in my mind as I assume that he was being an asshole and needed to be punished. She just got in the way. Stockholm syndrome. Yeah, that. Never mind that I have caused broken bones and caused a concussion. Righteous anger and all that.
  I spot a yellow car with a lit up bar on top and make a mad dash for it. Sliding into the back seat I tell the driver my address and sit back in relief. I think I made it. I don’t think anyone saw me as I got in. My righteous rage has survived to see another day. And yet…. what did I do! The realization settles in. I fucking hit two people with a brick! What the hell? I should be sitting in the back of a police car, not a cab! I close my eyes and try to force it out of my mind as car travels down the road.
  Slowly, I become aware of a hand resting on my arm. I open my eyes to see an elderly woman sitting beside me. She’s looking me in the eyes, and I can see concern in them. She doesn’t know who I am, or what I’ve done, but she is interested in me.
  It’s an innocent question, but I don’t know how to answer. I look back in her eyes. Aged eyes, but sharp. She hasn’t lost a step in her age, though her hair long ago lost the battle to the silver of wisdom. Somehow I feel like she already knows what my answer is, she’s just giving me the chance to confess and ask for penance.
  I sit for a moment, her hand resting awkwardly, but comfortably on my arm. Hanging my head, I mumble, “I tried to help someone, and hurt them in the process."
  The silence stretches on for what seems like an eternity. Finally she signals the driver to stop. After climbing out of the car and passing her money to the driver she pokes her head back around the door and looks at me.
  “Honey, I learned a long time ago, that their not all my children, and most of them need to walk their own journey. Stop trying to help where you’re not needed. And stop being so goddamn selfish."
  
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