One moment you're gleefully shredding the throat of an inattentive saleswoman. The next, you're lost in thought, with a mouthful of neck and a noseful of cheap perfume. Your feet are planted firmly on the floor, your fangs secure in the veinbut your mind is a million miles away.
It should be an enjoyable moment, but for some reason it isn't. The only thing you can focus on is the sound of your own voice, echoing inside your head as you wonder, Who am I? What kind of wretch lives like this? Must I truly go on this way forever? and, worst of all, What sort of monster have I become?
—The New Vampire's Handbook
By the gods, what have I become?
—Kratos, God of War