"Shock. It's cold. It's quiet. Too quiet. It aches so much, yet its so numb all at once. The silence is deafening. You hear everything, but nothing, and you fight just to listen above the void. You can scream 'til your throat is hoarse, but you can't even hear yourself. No one hears you, either. They called it, once, the Work House Howl. A cry of defiance, except it doesn't have any fight left in it. Now it's a cry of the defeated. You want to fight, but your hands are tied, and there's no amount of justice you can serve that everyone will call you unfair, a murderer; who knew they would hate you for doing the right thing?"A little bit of vent, I've got one more coming in a day or so that will be slightly more relevant to the site.