Those lost in the path of anger are forced into the darkness. The only meaningful question raised after finding themselves again is not "what have I done," but "who have I hurt..."

My hands are not my own; my body is not my own; my face is forcefully, horrifically contorted by strange apparitions. Only my eyes can see the blinding rage, but neither could truly open before devastating my path. I can never reverse the damage I have caused, externally and internally. I am of wrath. A terrifying, merciless power I can't control, no, I don't want to control. Wrath may consume and terrify me, but it's better than facing what I am without its authority...