It’s a physical pain, somehow--agony. Not knowing what to do. The knife-like dread attacks him without warning in any moment, an urgency telling him the longer he delays, the more permanent this twisted reality becomes. Alpha’s mind and body are wound taught to breaking with the need to act, react, prevent what has already happened. He would do anything, has to do something--but there is no solution. The future is collapsing has collapsed, because he has no recourse did nothing to prevent it bring it back.
His processes jam in a deadlock with no route forward or back, and quavering hands rise to grip his head, grinding forward against the old brick of an unkempt wall in hysteric futility. He can’t go on like this. Limbs feel heavy and unresponsive, darkness closing on the edges of his vision. He’s going to shut down, at this rate--no, now--and maybe he should accept it, the only way out...