I grew up in a fisherman's hut near the sea. Every morning my stepfather would take his children and I out to ask us what the sea would be like that day. I learned how to tell the difference between a day that would be clear, and one that would become a storm. Then he would take us out, a different person each day, and we would learn how to fish and sail. He taught me how to control a boat even in the stormiest and temperamental of weathers.

I remember everything I have been taught and use it when needed. Some things I teach myself, like how to fire a gun. The day finally comes when I need to know, the day when we are to storm the Bastille. They gather about the wine shop as we hand out tools. My husband is at the center giving orders to the chaotic crowd. He looks for me.

"Eh, well! Here you see me!" I call with an axe in my hand and a pistol and knife in my girdle.

"I go with you, at present. You shall see me at the head of woman, by-and-by."

"Come then!" he calls "Patriots and friends, we are ready! The Bastille!" The roar from the people could match the roar of the mighty ocean herself when she is in a rage. My husband mans the gun for hours – he could shame the army's best soldier. And their commander to boot! He calls the men to his side and they come willingly.

"To me women!" I cry above the noise. "What! We can kill as well as the men when the place is taken!" They come, thirsty for the blood we shall soon shed.

The drawbridge drops and we sweep in. My husband stands in the middle of the courtyard, looking about and taking stock. I hold a knife in my right hand and cut a man's throat with a fierce sweeping gesture. A woman behind me cries in triumph and fires upon another man. Swooping down, she plucks his drum from his body and puts it on.

"Play!" I call to her. She looks at me with a startled look in her eye.

"Play!" I command again. "Play your drum to the beat of my heart, Vengeance, and see if they do not tremble and fall to the ground in fear."

Boom! The sound rolls across the courtyard. Patriot, patrol and prisoner alike listen.

Boom! I cry out and let my voice soar with the drum in triumph.

Boom! More voices join mine as we plunge deeper into battle. I stab a man then shoot another through the head, composed as ever. Only my eyes have changed; alight with green fire they glow like a cat's, showing my passion. We capture the governor and people begin to call for my husband. Some fear he might have died, a few ask if he has left the battle. My eyes scan the doorways until I see him stride through one.

"See, there is my husband!" I cry, pointing him out. The sea turns to see where my finger is pointing.

"See Defarge!" They rise like a wave to sweep my husband and the governor through the streets. I do as I have been taught and keep my position by the governor's side as we ride through the streets just as if I were controlling a boat in particularly unpredictable storm. As we close in on our destination people begin to strike at him and kill him. I have been waiting by his side; composed as ever, and, with one motion, behead him. The street flows red once more and my eyes drink it in as thirstily as people drank wine before.