Rage Against

"You understand, don't you, sweetie?" my mother asks, holding the needle tip of a syringe above one of my wide, blue eyes. "Compared to them, we're so horribly, hilariously, weak. Understand?" Her hands steady, and I know what's to come. "So really, we have to do this, baby, because we need to be stronger. You understand, right?" I just smile up at her tearfully. "I understand."