Thanks for the encouragement those who have reviewed. Please review!

The severity of my rage was so bad, I didn't feel any horror at my actions. I saw where my knife was. It was sunk firmly in Bubba's side. His fur dripped bright red blood from around the knife. He'd thrown himself between me and the boy. He saved the boy's life, and kicked me away. He was protecting the boy from me.

He was protecting me as well. From doing something I would have never been able to take back. Oh, since then, I have to say, The Doctor has assured me I would have never gone through with killing the boy. He said it wasn't in me to murder. That I'd seen enough of it to know it was wrong. That the people of this world murdered because they'd never seen it, never known it to be wrong. He was completely convinced of my inability to take another person's life. But I don't really believe that. He didn't feel what was beating through my blood stream. He didn't know the rage that had taken over me.

Even with the anger poisoning my very being, I realized something. Remember back near the beginning of my story, I mentioned three important things I'd forgotten about traveling with the Doctor? Well the second one came up faster than I was able to digest it.

Traveling with the Doctor irreversibly changes people. I was no exception.

I knew with not a doubt in my mind, that this experience was changing me. Even if I returned home safely, there would really be no going back. You can't ride the edge of the universe and pretend it never happened. Even if I went back to the same life, I was different.

With the darkness in my eyes and my skin glowing, I must have been quite the sight. But all I could see was that Bubba was in the way. I ignored that he was injured, though something deep inside told me was tugging at me about it. I glanced around. The peoples' eyes were on Bubba and I. They stayed back, still appearing unsure about taking any particular action. Which was probably a good thing for me. As terrible as they had been behaving, they looked very vulnerable to me in that moment.

I turned back to Bubba. "Bubba, get!" I smacked my hands together, trying to get him out of the way of the real object of my rage. A child. The child was hidden tucked away behind the large creature. Even his mother could not reach him. He didn't make a sound. I climbed to my feet, glared, and stormed forward. Bubba didn't move, didn't flinch, and didn't bite me.

I reached out and grabbed the knife in his side, roughly twisting it. Bubba whimpered as I tortured the poor boar looking creature. A creature I already knew was not the violent sort and didn't deserve it. Bubba had saved my life. He'd stuck by my side when I needed someone the most. He'd kept me company when I was most alone. He'd taken care of me, when I thought all was lost. And here I was, hurting him in the worst possible way. Yet, he didn't attack me. He remained a friend to me even as I made it clear I wasn't his.

Something in me told me it felt good, powerful, to be causing this large beast pain. "Move out of my way!" I yelled at him. He didn't move. He kept himself lodged between me and the child protectively.

I yanked the knife out, leaving a gaping, bleeding, jagged hole in Bubba's side. He howled in pain as the knife was ripped from his wounded flesh. I tossed the knife toward the mob of people. They dodged it and it clattered to the ground, spattering blood over various shoes, legs, and the white floor. I used my bare hands to try to shove Bubba out of the way. My anger just making me want to hurt, kick, hit, bite, anything to release the rage burning inside.

I heard a loud, raw, animal growl that startled me. The sound was that of a creature that wanted nothing more than to torture and destroy everything in its path. And the growl hadn't come from Bubba. It came from me.

Logic couldn't prevail. Overwhelmed with the fire inside, I punched at my Bubba. He was having trouble keeping his stance due to blood loss and the serious looking gash on his side. I kicked directly at his wound, causing small whimpers and yelps to escape his mouth. His eyes looked into mine with such deep pain it was hard to miss the fact that it was more than the wound that hurt. It was my betrayal.

But he stood his ground. Neither hurting me, nor allowing me to hurt the boy.

I continued to torture him, he gave a weak, mournful cry. He limped toward me, using his body strength to push me back. He did so to allow one of the adults to grab the child and move him safely away from me. I stumbled back, but pressed back against him with my full body weight, pinching his sore and bloodied wound. The things I did to Bubba that day...

There aren't enough tears in the world for me to cry out the guilt I feel. How do you ever come back from something like this? Knowing you were enjoying hurting someone you cared about. A true friend. I'll tell you something. You don't. You move on, you live your life, and many moments you don't give it a thought. But then something brings it back to you. A flash of a knife on a movie, a dog's growl, a blood stain, someone mentioning friendship, someone being angry. And then it all comes flooding back. The flash of remorse heating your face and slamming into your chest, refusing to not be noticed.

I think finding pleasure in someone's pain, is disturbing. To know I did this and took great pleasure from it haunts me and will always haunt me. Sure, it may have been the influence of the suns possessing my being, but trust me, you never stop blaming yourself. Or at least, if I ever get to the point where I do stop, I'll let you know.

Continuing my abuse, lost in nothing but the rage, I didn't have time to react to the sudden movement of the room. The sound of a loud explosion and a rush of air from outside was followed up with everyone being thrown about, including me. I flew one way, Bubba another.

The sudden violent quake tossed me backwards again. The room shook and rocked. People grabbed onto chairs, walls, each other to keep stable. I couldn't think past the burning hatred to understand what was happening. I tried to reach out and grab onto a wall but something hard and solid hit the side of my head. I felt a sharp pain and then everything was silent.