I was being pursued by people who tried to convince me they were friends, but I knew they planned to kill me. Still, I put my guns down and went with them for a little, deciding to trust. When I overheard what they were planning, I went back to get my guns, but they had all been emptied. A person came in smiling, telling me not to worry, they wouldn't harm me. I knew he was lying but I played along to buy time. As we walked, his arm was over my shoulder, like he was restricting my movement. He told me they were going to torture me. There was nothing I could do. Then I remembered I had fists like hammers. I challenged him to a fight and someone stepped up and hit me, but I hit them back and they fell. Before I could think someone else hit me from the side. I started to yell about it being one-on-one but my anger took over. I knocked him to the ground and smashed his head in with my clenched fists until it turned to literal putty. I did the same to the other and about five more until everyone started to run. I beat my chest and realized I'd been shot. It only made me angrier. I woke up drenched in anxiety, but felt better remembering that I fought instead of folding and if I can't choose when I face betrayal or death, I can still choose how I face them.