The same place, the same darkness. A world that can only be described by nothingness.
The place I would always to—a world of sorrow and fear.
Yet, this time I felt something more.
Blood ignited as my insides started to burn. It was more pain than I had ever felt, and what it stemmed from was pure anger. Unadulterated, pure hate came over my body. The reason was hidden behind dense fog in my head, but I could tell it came from a wound, a wound that had just opened up.
Pure rage bled out of me—rage born of uncertainty. I felt a rage directed at something I could not remember.
I screamed, but again, no sound came out.
What even is a scream? In this sea of hot nothing, what point is there to scream?
It hurt; it hurt more than ever, but I was looking forward to more of it. This anger had something. It had purpose. Even if I couldn't understand it, this purpose gave me something—something to look forward to.
Suddenly, I heard a drowned-out voice.
"…too far… no next time."
This had never happened before, so I tried to shout, hoping I would get an answer, yet nothing came out—no, my hearing was gone again.
With nothing else left, I took that rage. I took the flame from inside and let it consume me. I let the fire become my blood, and spoke a final word in my head.
Again.