Rage
Rage is all consuming, all controlling. What happens when the rage is the one in control?
Just a very short piece. I have never written for SVU before, so it's a bit rough. I just wanted to write a bit about Elliot's constant battle with his anger. Character based piece. Hope you like. I don't own anything to do with the show: characters etc. I'm just playing. Read and Review!
Like a burning knife, rage twists in the gut. It consumes. It overwhelms. It engulfs everything it meets, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. Its fury, when left unchecked, decimates all. All that was ever known disappears. All that is left is a shell, piloted by irrefutable, indestructible, unstoppable power. Power to hurt, to kill.
For many, rage is a part of life. Sometimes more so than others. Its embers flare now and again, perhaps sparking a small fire, easily extinguished by a placating tone, a few kind words. Rage becomes an outlet. It is controllable. It is controlled.
When one becomes controlled by rage, however, it is a thin line to tread. That line between control and the abyss. That line between danger and dangerous. That line between what is acceptable and what is…not. When too far is no longer a destination in vague sight, but approaching fast.
For Elliot Stabler, this is a line he is familiar with. That dance along its faint markings; sometimes on the light, sometimes on the dark. The constant tango has left him dizzy, askew and blind to where the line has become smudged. With each new case, each bout of unrestrained rage, he falls further into the unknown, the dark.
His fists beat a fury.
One, two, three, four.
One, two, three, four.
His knuckles split, bleed, throb, ache. His wrists swell with the force of his punches. A tight vein throbs in his neck, indicating how delicately he know balances. His position is precarious. Face tight, body tense, he hits. Relentlessly.
A sound, like a wail, permeates the air. It is him. Unrecognisable, even to himself.
Sweat, tears, snot and spit dribble down his face as he lets loose. The satisfying thump, the sickening thud, the pounding of his fists in time with his heart are his rhythm. They fuel him onwards. Spurn his rage.
With each hit his breath hitches, catching in his throat. He struggles to find his rhythm again as his body gives in. He pushes further. He knows no end, cannot stop the torrent. It is not until his body collapses that he stops. He is not fulfilled. The rage is still there, burning, smouldering, deep inside. He knows that it is only time until it explodes again.
Elliot Stabler is a man of control. He is also a man of rage. Which one has the power is something he is unsure of. What he knows, however, is that the line he dances is getting smaller and smaller and the rage is ever growing.