He backs up, dropping the bucket.
He runs back to his room, and I let him.
My boot stops him from closing the door.
I force it open and he stumbles, shaking. He knows.
“I—it was an accident, man.”
The taste of blood is real now, and I smile, showing every tooth. “You don’t get to talk.”
There’s no time for second thoughts as I kick him square in the chest.
Bones crack as he falls back against the shitty brown table.
The whole room reeks of alcohol and cigarettes.
He cowers on the ground. “Please don’t. I—”
He doesn’t get to finish.
The sound of my knuckles meeting his cheek is all I need to hear.
Then the second punch, straight to the bridge of his nose, brings up a spray of blood.
He tries to talk again, but I shut him up a third time.
I dig my knee into his chest and drive another punch into his jaw.
I want to feel the bone break, I want to hear the snapping crack that means his face will never be the same.
There’s a flash—a memory; Miri’s smile, broad and crooked. Then a jarring flicker—the same face lifeless and stained red.
More anger rises in me, the adrenaline pumps faster, and I feel euphoric.
I grab the front of his shirt and throw him against the wall.
His head snaps back and he goes limp. His breath is a wet wheeze, but I don’t stop.
I’m in a trance.
I’m not in my body.
I can’t be held responsible.
Every emotion, every word, every hate filled thought I’ve been holding in pour out through my fists.
Then there’s a sound outside. The screeching of tires.
The door bursts open and a pair of arms wrap around my chest, pulling me back.
“Tek!” Eden’s voice. “That’s enough!”
I try to fight him off, but he’s stronger. Always has been. And I’m so far gone I barely feel his grip.
My fists still reach for Alvarez.
Eden drags me back, locking my arms. “You’re done, Tek. Let him go.”
