Wrath

Will a mother's wrath make her cross the line? I didn't want to cry. For once in my life, tears evaded me. Perhaps because I refused to grieve this loss, because it wasn't a loss in my eyes, in my heart. It was a call for war, yes. But not a loss. I wouldn't allow it. Besides, I was too mad to cry, even in my exhaustion, and anger would get me much further. As I curled my body around Sasha's, though, I realized the anger within me had changed. I no longer felt irrational and blinding fury that dulled all other emotions. But that was okay. I really didn't want to be Psycho Alexis. This, what I now felt in every cell of my body down to the core, was better. My anger had condensed and solidified into a cold, hard stone settling within me. Something I could control and hold onto for the long term to keep me going and focused on the goal. Wrath. That's what I felt. And there was nothing worse than the wrath of a pissed-off mother.