Past

Today is a day of rest.

Many of the others do not have days of rest, but Dante says that rage can burn out if you keep burning it. We are too-small vessels filled with a great hatred: if we unstop ourselves at all times, the hatred spews forth and eventually runs out. If we pause and give the hatred a chance, the pressure will increase once more, and we will never fade, or burn out. An endless fire, never starved.

So Dante says.

So I sit by the fire, and write my record.

The only address the past needs is Over and Done With, No More. Dante says the root of the hatred does not matter, only that it grows. But I want to write it down. Once, I was in a bad place. There was only pain and dark there, where lived a Liar.

But Dante found me, and took me away from the dark and what lurked there. He gave me a new home, the others became my family. He clothed me, fed me, even gave me a new name. He took it from an old word, something having to do with fire. Our Cousins have more to do with fire, but there is an overlap.

And most importantly, he is teaching me how to hate. Soon, no lurking thing will touch me, for I will be the monster in the dark.