Chapter 8

The emotions that had so swayed me when I tried to blast the lives of two who held me dear now seemed puny and insignificant in comparison with my suffering. No physical torment can be likened to that which engulfed me until my very being was but a seething mass of agony. Through it, I hurled maledictions upon the world, upon myself, upon the creator. Horrible blasphemies I uttered. And, at last--I prayed. It was but a cry for mercy--the inarticulate appeal of a tortured soul for surcease of pain--but suddenly a pe…