rage vs hospital

As my Sight focused on her, I saw more. The girl's psyche had been savagely mauled, and as I watched her, phantom bruises darkened a few patches of skin that remained, and blood and watery fluids oozed from the rest of her torn flesh. Her mouth was set in a continual, silent wail, and beneath the real-world glaze, her eyes were wide with terror. If there'd been enough left of her behind those eyes, Miss Becton would have been screaming.
My stomach rolled and I barely spotted a trash can in time to throw up into it.
Murphy crouched down at my side, her hand on my back. "Harry? Are you okay?"
Anger and empathy and grief warred for first place in my thoughts. Across the room, I was dimly conscious of a clock radio warbling to life and dying in a puff of smoke. The room's fluorescent lights began to flicker as the violent emotions played hell with the aura of magic around me.
"No," I said in a vicious, half-strangled growl. "I'm not okay."
Murphy stared at me for a second, and then looked at the girl. "Is she..."
"She isn't coming back," I said.
I spat a few times into the trash can and stood up. My headache started to return. The girl's terrified eyes stayed bright and clear in my imagination. She'd been out for a fun time. A favorite movie. Maybe coffee or dinner with friends afterward. She sure as hell hadn't woken up yesterday morning and wondered if today would be the day some kind of nightmarish thing would rip away her sanity.
"Harry," Murphy said again, her voice very gentle. "You didn't do this to her."
"Dammit," I said. I sounded bitter. She found my right hand with hers and I closed my fingers around hers with a kind of quiet desperation. "Dammit, Murph. I'm going to find this thing and kill it."
Her hand was steady and strong, like her voice. "I'll help."
I nodded and held tight to her hand for a minute. There wasn't any tension in that contact, no quivering sensation of excitement. Murphy was human and alive. She held my hand to remind me that I was too. I somehow managed to push the sense of visceral horror I'd seen filling the girl from my immediate thoughts, until I felt steadier. I squeezed her hand once and released it.
"Come on," I said, my voice rough. "Pell."
"Are you sure you don't need a minute?"
"It won't help," I said. I gestured at the radio and the lights. "I need to get this over with and leave."


Proven Guilty Chapter 17, Page 116