The seventh seal had followed not long after the sixth, when the sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red, and the stars in the sky fell to earth.

Then the kings of the earth, the princes, the generals, the rich, the mighty, and everyone else, hid in caves and among the rocks of the mountains. They called to the mountains and the rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb! For the great day of their wrath has come, and who can withstand it?”

You are wrath, it’s been carved into your skin by who else but him? His blue eyes struggle to even look over at you, to acknowledge your presence in this cramped bunker. He could be in his own, now, lavish and safe with his brothers, but you. You, you, you. The bombs continue to fall outside, to shake the shelter and make the dust fall from the ceiling, you are worried it will collapse in on itself.

“This is all your fault.”