I couldn't blame him. He'd just witnessed his best friend being horrifically slaughtered. How could he deal with that, or the fact that he'd just seen God in action? He'd seen God speak to us in the clouds, and he'd seen his friend become God and witnessed God perform His sacrifice on earth.
No, I couldn't blame him.
But my hatred continued to burn, burn hot and vindictive within me, burn as if Hell itself raged inside me, and the deafening fiery roar I heard was Satan laughing at my young friend's helplessness.
Helplessness that both amused and angered me.