Keith's POV
The world is red. A haze of blood and fury. Every face that flashes in my vision is one of them—the ones who held me down, who stole my voice, who carved their cruelty into my soul.
I want to tear them apart. I want to feel their bones break under my hands. This rage is all I am. It's a fire that burns away everything else, leaving only the primal need to destroy.
I don't know where I am. There are screams, noises, blaring sounds. It doesn't matter. Everything is a target.
Then I see it.
A shift in the red haze. A light. A soft, moving white light that doesn't belong in this nightmare. I feel it before I truly see it—a coolness, a calmness that cuts through the inferno in my mind for a single, fleeting second.
I reach for it. I need to touch it. It feels… familiar. Like a memory I can't quite grasp.
But it moves away from me. The light retreats.
A new kind of fury, sharp and bitter, joins the rage. It feels like rejection. It hurts.
