This behavior—gruffly shutting down bids for human connection—was something he vividly remembered hating in his father, and he hated seeing it in himself even more, but found himself doing it all the same. Why did she get to move on and be happy? The fires of rage must be kept alight at all cost, and there is no justice until everyone has been sufficiently burned.
[…] and Abbott could feel the exhaustion hitting him and knew that it wasn’t just the drive and rough sleep but the anger, that the hours of stewing had drained him. And for what? What had been gained?
[…] For the second time in two days, Abbott felt rage slipping through his fingers and sensed himself scrambling to hang on, like it was a precious thing. Like he’d be letting the universe get away with something if he allowed himself peace.
[…] Abbott was once again pleased that Ether seemed to need a moment to gather herself after this. He was causing this woman anxiety, which meant he was winning. Or something.
[…] Abbott scoffed and shook his head. They went under an overpass, and he briefly imagined himself flooring the Navigator into the embankment.

— Abbott in Jason Pargin, I’m Starting to Worry About This Black Box of Doom, 2024, Ch. Day 2, p. 177-179