You Against You

In a slow-mo retrospective tour of a panoramic journey known as your life, you are awarded the "highly-favored," first-person view of it all. In this visual venture of symbolic ups and downs, you travel a vast hallway who's end appears extinct. On either side of this passage stands rallies of doors adjacent and juxtaposed in infinite repetition. A countless percent of these entries are closed and obviously dormant. Some even seem untouched and speckless, while others are truly unenclosed—suggesting they've seemingly been entered and charted.

You cautiously approach a peculiar door whose wood is well-worn and handle is abused. The hinges give a discouraging appearance of being mangled and exploited in an obtrusive manner. The room has detectably been overly occupied. You bravely set one foot inside, then the next. With a will powered by curiosity, you trudge onward through this immense room of darkness, eventually stumbling upon the intended enticement: a lone spotlight hung in its singularity, pointing to the ground. You can tell by its magnificent brightness that it is central to the corridor's existence. As you draw closer to this illumination, you notice two figures standing in the lighted circumference. Intrigued, and without much difficulty, you identify both personages by their shockingly familiar features. They are both you.

Upon further inspection, your gaze is naturally guided to hundreds of cuts and bruises lingering on the faces of these individuals. Their knuckles are wrapped with blood-stained boxing tape. Battling perplexity, you boldly come to the conclusion that in this makeshift sparring ring, you have been in a gruesome brawl with you and neither opponent will let up. A haunting cheer fills the silence. Oblivious to their existence before, you perceive a staggering audience of menacing demons, each cheering on what appears to be the angrier version of yourself.

An old bell rings strikingly loud and you flinch as the two fighters enter the attacking frenzy once again. "Stop this!" you scream hopelessly, "stop fighting!" The band of laughing demons drown out your voice. It's no use, both still show no sign of backing down. The match drags on and the blows grow increasingly fatal. As the tension soon becomes exceedingly unbearable, you summon everything within yourself to release a four-word phrase louder than you had anticipated: "You're killing each other!" This time, it easily, yet unexpectedly, conquers the corridor's wicked volume. However, it is too late. With the echo of your voice, the devilish banter dies but each opponent delivers a mirrored final blow and both collapse lethally. You watch the light diminish until nothing can be seen.

Traumatized by the scarring, recent events, you find yourself sinking to the floor and sobbing regretfully with your head in your knees. "Is this really what I think about myself?" "How could I do such a horrible thing?" "Will I ever get back up?" These crippling thoughts penetrate your soul and thicken your tears.

Nevertheless, with your thoughts marinating and your doubts ripening, you hear that old spotlight kick on again. What could it be this time? You open your eyes with much avail in a squinting manner, realizing that the beam is on you. Once you regain sight, you behold a singular standing mirror. Out of nothing more than spite, you rise to your feet and peer in. Shockingly, your own face is covered with those same cuts and bruises as before. Your appearance alone pains you. "I'm so sorry," you whimper to your reflection.

Lost in your own sorrow-filled eyes, a voice joins the personal conversation. It's The Savior's voice. He gently whispers: "To whom ye forgive any thing, I forgive also." It repeats in your mind over and over until your mouth opens a second time. "I forgive you." The ultimate power of this one-way conversation instantly transforms the spot-lit setting a third and final time. The mirror vanishes and the same old fighting bell from before rings loudly. You turn around to find a similar fighter as the ones before. Same face. Same ill-intent. But instead of watching this time, you stand in the ring first-hand. Humbled by your own past, you take off the fighting tape that had also spontaneously formed around your knuckles and approach the familiar figure with an embrace rather than a right hook. To your surprise, the hug is returned and two arms lovingly fall over both of you. "Thou hast done well," The Savior then says.

The pathway out becomes lit and he walks you to that same tattered door, escorts you out, and closes the door gently. "Let's avoid that one from now on okay?" he smiles and wipes the remaining tears from your eyes. He then takes your hand in a gesture that implies he won't leave you again and looks down the hallway, "Let's go find the better ones."

-Cale Kenneth Montoya (07-08-22)