Madness.

The man lay awake in the pre-dawn; he was sweating at the thought of another day in the city. How far would he get before the attacks started again, the cowardly hatred of the people to whom he didn't belong?
How many more examples would he have to make?
Would there ever come a time of peace, when he was rightfully left alone?
He sat on the edge of the bed. There was silence. He surrendered to it, feeling the quiet flowing even through his bones.
He lay back.
He fell asleep again.

Much later, when the Sun rose, Nero tried to face another day surrounded by the Roman Mob.