Anger

Wispy steam rose from his mouth into the frigid night air. He looked up at the faceless sea goddess. Part of him wanted to accept her offer, to leave this place where all he knew was pain and suffering. But . . . if he did leave, the cause for his indignation would be gone, and he would have no need to be angry. And anger, as bitter as it felt, was still the only thing he felt he truly possessed, was the thing that made him who he was, and while he didn't particularly like who he was, he was too proud to let go of his anger. Which meant he could not go with the sea goddess.