there was a time when you wouldn't have had to ask that question. but that feels so long ago. the truth is that you're angry. the truth is that you want revenge. it's just that you know what will happen if you get it -- plus, what won't happen. what won't happen is things going back to normal: it's too late for you now. what will happen is that your loved ones will leave you. they will think you're too much. they will recoil from this hunger in you, this part of you that wants to leave scorched earth behind, the part of you that has lost everything. you can't get vengeance. you think about it anyway. always. a humming in the back of your head. an unasked question -- what if? you want blood but also don't. so you temper yourself. when you stare at the sun, sometimes you tilt your head up for just a second too long. or when you're washing your hands -- you crank the water up as hot as it'll go, until you can't hold your hands underneath anymore. you hunt monsters to make sure you aren't one. you need to know you're still one of the good guys. you need to know that all this self-control has a point to it.
