The darkness surrounded and held him. Within the darkness was a blood-chilling fear that fed off of his strength. Emotions he recognized called to him, and brushed his mind offering up their gifts of cruel memories.
Pain: experienced once again at the hands of men.
Terror: at the face of Death coming to claim him once more.
Sorrow: at the destruction of his sanctuary, his anchor.
Anger: at his own inadequacy and inability to escape, to fight.
Scorn: toward the ones who would destroy what they could not understand.
Rage: towards the man who held his life in careless hands.
A deep, burning hate like nothing he had ever felt before welled up within his heart. It twisted and churned, claiming him for itself. It took on a life of its own as it tried to change him, taking everything he believed in and turning it into ash. Hissing words of anger toward the men responsible for its creation, it grew, consuming ever memory and tinting them with the color of red hate and black anger. It almost succeeds, but at the last moment a gentle touch from a caring friend averts the disaster and, with a shiver of relief he awakens, knowing that though he has not surrendered to the hate, it has still claimed a part of his soul.