QUOTE : In an instant, the weight of her own beliefs began to crush her. The noise in her head grew deafening. The mitote, that war of words within the human mind, the thing that Miguel had turned into a familiar mythology, was suddenly real. It seemed that every human on the planet was yelling at her or at someone else. Everybody was shouting, nagging, arguing against the truth, and their noise was unbearable. There was anger and raw fear behind the noise, and the intensity was shocking. Even more shocking was the realization that every voice was hers. Every argument, assumption, and conclusion was a part of her own thought process; every judgment came from her. Every complaint and contradiction was a reflection of her. She was the mayhem, the deafening noise in her own head. She was the liar, the deranged storyteller. She had imagined herself to be an angel of life, but death was closing in now and dulling her senses. All she could hear were messages of fear. Terror seared her brain until, suddenly unleashed, it thundered through the ruins of Teotihuacan.