Rage burns within you. It whispers inside your head, telling you to do terrible things. Everything moves so fast, too fast to remember it all. Your voice raises, screaming in pain and fury. It burns white hot, hurting and blinding you as you destroy all around you.
And then, it’s suddenly cold. The point beyond rage where the whispering stops. Where time moves so slowly that every breath seems like a lifetime. Your voice drops to the point of silence. You make your choices calmly, seeing with perfect clarity the results play out before you and feeling nothing but a strange sense of satisfaction.
And it’s so cold. Comfortable. It feels like home.