Esper slams her hand against the wall. She grits her teeth as she lays her forehead against the mirror, struggling to hold back the claws and teeth that threaten to tear through her fingers and gums. She can feel her bones shuddering beneath her skin and a long low growl churns in her throat.
She renders herself up, is blotted out; enters the darkness of her own body, forgets her name. Immolation is what she wants, however briefly. To exist without boundaries. - Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin