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November 12, 2011
Feral.

Her eyes shine too brightly, too wildly. Her hands clench, ready to break the world, to heave it into the center of a black hole and watch as it rips apart. Her mind explodes with images of stabbing, slicing, tearing, punching, screaming, killing, killing, killing--

The anger is shut off as completely and smoothly as flipping a switch. An exhausted indifference slides in to take its place, and she becomes a creature of absolute insignificance. Placid.

There is a slump to her shoulders now, a weariness pulling down the corners of her mouth. The price of self-control.