A quote from Chapter 8:
Despair, the lost man’s trusted companion. Conscience, the primordial battleground, lacking exercise, atrophied by the same passiveness that had dominated her entire existence, remained an empty arena. Since the border between right and wrong was hazy, diluting their incessant clash into a stalemate, all that persisted within her conscience was a battle of fears.
The captivating terror of an imminent danger, paralyzing body and mind, leaving no time for reflection, reaction, awareness versus the perpetual helplessness lurking on the horizon. Its languid nature nourished agony and left the prey at the mercy of a barren future. Always intangible, subduing softly merely by taunting, a cunning tactic that sharpened reason beyond endurance. Fear of death versus fear of life.
