I twist around awkwardly so I can face whoever’s grabbed me over the counter. Brows already lowering into a frown at the voice and who I expect to find. Their position doesn’t improve when I find myself looking up into Archie’s liquid gold eyes and the smug smirk beneath them.

  He holds my left arm by the wrist high enough that I have to rise up on tip toes to avoid being pulled fully off the floor. He must have lunged forward to grab me. His great height now standing straight after pulling my arm back with him. Almost forcing me to climb onto the counter due to the difference in height between us. My free hand bracing me against the thing's side as I feel the skin of my captured wrist straining. Pulled taut by his tight grip where I’ve turned to face him.

  His other hand holds my work phone with casual disregard. Spinning the burner around as he looks down at me. The condescension in his gaze setting off a rage that almost has me tearing my arm free on instinct. My eyes glancing at the door to check that he really was stupid enough to come alone. Only another look into the glowing pits of his cyber-eyes convinces me not to. Not every model has cameras that can record or stream elsewhere, but his might. It’s perhaps thanks to that concern that my voice comes out remarkably calm considering the heady mix of panic and blistering, billowing rage filling my chest.

  “Archie, give me back the phone and fuck off.”

  My eyes stay locked on said phone as Archie holds it up to better look at the new cracks. The device is locked at least, and the screen in sleep mode for now but the text it just received will be plainly visible if he taps it.

  ‘What the fuck do I do if its someone calling me Pocket?!’

  Archie doesn’t bother to answer my demand. Showing no sign of having noticed my growing concern as he angles the phone to get a better look at the lines running across its screen.

  “I mean, I’ve got one of course. Real useful for all sorts of things… but what could a half-Corpo like you need one for, huh? If you want it back then how about you tell-”

  A buzz interrupts Archie’s question. His golden eyes glancing down to look at the screen which has just lit up. His smugness replaced with surprise as he reads whatever it says before his face shifts to an even more infuriating grin.

  “Oh? What’s thi-”

  It happens in seconds.

  My finger presses down on the pepper spray I’ve slipped out from my Pocket. The stream only given more power by the wind behind me. Flying into his eyes in a pressurised burst too fast for him to react too before it reaches him. The capsaicin, of course, having no effect on his inorganic ‘ware besides making him blink rapidly and tricking him into raising a hand to protect eyes that can no longer feel pain. Unfortunately for him, that’s all I need.

  “Jason!”

  His grip on my wrist tightens to something that would probably be excruciating to a baseline as he tries to jump back. I don’t let him. Breaking his grip with a casual flex of my arm and seizing his own wrist before he can finish moving away. His shout of surprise only growing more confused when I use my vastly superior strength to pull him back towards the counter. Dropping the pepper spray to grab hold of his expensive hair and then slamming his head down onto the faux-stone before he can uncover his eyes.

  I use as little force as possible when I do so. Reminding myself that he’s not a supe and so can’t just sleep off most injuries. Still, I hear something crack. Dodging aside with a grin as blood spurts away from his newly flattened nose.

  “Jason stop! Please!”

  I shout over Archie’s back while I again bash his head into the counter. Not letting him up even as I release his wrist to get a hold on the hand he’s trying to take away from his eyes. Holding it in place as I continue repainting the faux-granite in shades of red. All while doing my very best to keep the grin out of my voice and while channelling what little acting ability I have. I’ve never been a theatre kid but, luckily, Archie doesn’t seem to be in much of a state to judge my performance.

  I have to grit my teeth on the next bash so as to hold in my giggles. Laughter trying to bubble up from my too full chest as I watch Archie throw his hands out behind him. Kicking and punching as he bucks against my grip like a wild beast. Trying desperately to fight off a boy who’s currently locked up in Fairhurst.

  Thankfully, it only takes another few slams before I can be sure he’s passed out. His struggles stilling and attempts to shout going silent. I still keep my trembling grip locked on his hair and arm until I’m completely certain that he’s gone limp. The adrenaline that had fuelled my snapped temper now crashing out of me and leaving a mix of cold dread and rising mania in its place.

  ‘Oh shit.’

  I raise Archies now limp head up for a fourth time. My arms trembling and knees going weak as I watch him pull down breathes through the bloody mess of his nose. I can barely feel the weight. A retch rises up inside me at the sight of what I’ve done and I have to fight to keep it down. Knowing that, just like in the IT block, I can’t afford to leave any sign I was here.

  I stay trapped looking at where his eyes are still covered under the hand that I’m effortlessly holding across them. Mind churning as I come to terms with what my snapped temper has done. The dread fading in steps as I slowly convince myself that I can handle this. Have handled this. Even if it was done in the moment and without a shred of planning.

  I needed to stop him from seeing anymore texts and I had to get the phone back. Perhaps, talking could have worked and I definitely should have tried it but whatever he’d seen on the phone had been too much. I’d like to say I’d planned on giving him a concussion and blaming it on Jason. But all of that had just been instinct driven rage I’m even now struggling to untangle. Another loss of control.

  My grip on his hair and hand tightens at the thought. The last of the dread driven out as rage returns, now aimed at myself. The feel of synth-weave pulled free under my fingers has me slackening my grip before I can hurt him further. My eyes glancing to the door to again make sure I’m alone.

  The one saving grace in all this is that no one else could have seen it and that I didn’t give Archie the chance to think clearly. If he’d taken a moment to do so, then it should’ve been pretty obvious that the hands gripping him were in the wrong position to have come from behind. Not to mention my fingers are far too small to be mistaken for Jason’s. Again though, a concussion isn’t conducive to logical thoughts.

  I do feel a little bad for making Jason a new enemy but, given how low his attendance is, I doubt it will matter. Not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before anyway.

  I can start to understand why as I release Archie’s now heavily bruised and bloody face with an unintentional sigh of contentment. A flash of guilt at the response not succeeding in stopping the deep satisfaction now welling up from inside me. There is something extremely cathartic about just hitting your problems until they stop being so.

  It certainly helped with how easy it was. The boy who must be close to twice my weight and a good foot higher unable to put up even a token resistance. My grip too strong for him to ever break and movements fast enough that he’d barely had the chance to react. Even then, I’d been holding back.

  It’s with something close to sadness that I let him slump half off the counter. Lowering his head and pulling him forward to try and get him settled across it. His upper half being heavier than I expected and so forces me to dodge back as his weight slides him the rest of the way onto the floor. Face first.

  I look down with a grimace after hearing the bonk of his skull against the floor. Knowing I should feel deeply worried about how still Archie is being but not finding it in myself to care after all the bullshit of the last half hour. I still end up holding my breath in suspense as I step gingerly around the spreading puddle of blood. Leaning down to check that I didn’t go too far. Even after what happened a month or so ago, it’s still hard to believe just how fragile baselines can be.

  I let out my held breathe on finding a pulse and hearing Archie’s bubbling snorts and the low whistle of air through his broken teeth. Carefully, I lower him the rest of the way to the floor before pulling a set of zip ties and a roll of duct tape from my Pocket. Moving quickly now so that I can tie him up before he recovers.

  Even a baseline only stays unconscious for a few minutes and, if Archie’s new ‘ware extends to the right kind of internals, he could be getting up any second. Thankfully though, that doesn’t happen and I soon finish tying him up without further incident. Debating over how many strips of tape to wrap over his eyes and mouth before deciding that no amount is too much and so using at least a third of the roll.

  Depending on what he says, and how much he remembers through the concussion I’ve likely given him, I might have to pretend to be covering for Jason. But maybe not. Archie had made a mistake that none of the other asshole’s who decided to poke me have. He did it alone, and where no one was watching. The only thing he could know for certain was that I pepper sprayed him. Which I’ll admit to if he pushes me. A big guy pushing six foot stealing my phone and stopping me from leaving, while we’re all alone too, should be more than enough justification.

  Past that, everything should have happened to quickly and brutally for him to really understand. Though even if he does remember everything, even if he figures out it was me beating him unconscious, who’s going to believe him?

  ‘One more rumour won’t make a difference. So long as I don’t make a habit of this anyway.’

  I step back from my handiwork with a warm glow of satisfaction. The relief of finally getting to work out the frustration of the last few hours overshadowing the guilt and worry still trying to bring me down. I can freak out later while waiting to see what the fallout of this actually is. For all my rationalising, I can only guess at what will actually happen.

  I pull out some tissues to wipe away the blood that has spilled onto my hands as I walk over to pick up my now even more cracked phone from where it fell. Pushing away anymore worries for the future until I’ve at least gotten a chance to see if losing my temper with Archie was worth it. I don’t know what I’ll do if I did all this only for him to have just seen a spam text. The phone’s screen is flickering and so cracked it’s somewhat hard to make out the message after the latest bit of damage. The burner looks unlikely to even open and makes me thankful that I’d already been planning on replacing it.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  That mild relief, along with the satisfaction Archie had been so nice as to give me, flees at once as I take in the message on the screen. The fence’s disguised name registering first before the message beneath has me freezing in place.

  ‘Call me now. Or any chance of deal is dead.’

  I’ve barely finished reading before my eyes swivel down to where Archie is lying on the other side of the counter. Panic fading to bemusement as I blink in disbelief before a snort finally works its way up and really sets me off. Rising peals of disbelief fuelled hysteria forcing me to grab onto the side of the work station to stop my wobbly legs from sending me to the floor.

  “I suppose, really, I should be thanking you for following me up here and making me knock you out.”

  I cut myself off before I can say anything else. Smothering the laughter with a reminder that this still might not work out. Or that the text could be fake. Whoever was on the other side of the tracker perhaps trying to panic me into making another mistake. How they’d manage to spoof the fences number so quickly and, presumably, without access to his phone I don’t know. Either way, I can’t take the risk.

  ‘Not that I might need to thanks to Archie’s kind donation, of course.’

  Expectations suitably lowered, I crouch down by Archies side and start patting him down for the burner phone he’d just mentioned. Not able to keep the bemused smile off my face at something finally going my way. Just when I need a disposable phone, here’s Archie to offer me one. How nice of him.

  I give him a little pat on the cheek as I find a pair of phone shaped bricks in a pocket of his cargo pants. Immediately regretting it when I get blood on my fingers and have to pull out some wet wipes from my Pocket. His nose is a gushing fountain right now, each breath making little bubbles that have me slightly worried that I might have gone too far after all.

  Remembering what the guard did yesterday, I carefully prop Archie up in the recovery position against the counter’s side. Nudging him a little further under the lip as I stand and so pushing him into a spot where he can’t be seen from the door. A glance at the mess on the counter has me taking a moment to clean up that too. Wanting to make sure that no one will be finding him until after lunch.

  I let a self-satisfied smile spread freely across my face as I examine the thin gold case of what must be his personal phone. The expensive looking model not one I recognise and well protected behind an eight-character pin. The delicate thing stands out starkly against the black block of the burner I found beside it.

  I grip the sides of the gold case tightly, feeling as it strains under my fingers and approaches the point where it will crack. Squeezing with almost all my strength before I finally feel something start to give. I pause, sighing deeply as I release the tension in my hand and then put the phone back. I’ve already given Archie enough reasons to be mad at me. Or Jason, I suppose. Reasons my friend’s reputation and current absence make it unlikely Archie will think to follow through on. Not that Jason will mind if he tries. He’s always looking for a chance to build more rep.

  Thoughts of Jason have me refocusing on the burner I’ve just claimed. Tapping at the screen to check if my need for a new cell really will be solved so easily. The bemused smile from earlier sliding back onto my face as I see it’s setup to unlock for fingerprint ID. I crouch just outside the puddle of blood being created by Archie’s nose as I try to get to his bound hands without ruining my hoodie. Wincing at the damage I’ve done to his teeth even as I feel another burst of somewhat guilty satisfaction for the result of my snapped temper. Even if he is able to afford his current ‘ware, a new set of front teeth isn’t going to be cheap.

  Thoughts of chrome fangs and mechanical jaws are swept away as Archie’s limp pointer finger unlocks the phone and I start going through it. I hadn’t really expected to find anything except perhaps the number of his hook-up or a few gang contacts. Every name being a random string of letters and numbers is significantly more confusing.

  ‘Whatever, not like I’ll be using it after this call.’

  I walk over to the door, stepping out into the corridor while trying to decide how far away I need to be from Archie’s potentially listening ears when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs to my right. I freeze, fingers halfway through putting in the fences number from memory. A wry smile falling from my face where I’d been thinking about how much trouble I could have avoided if I’d been able to recall it earlier.

  “Hello! Anyone up here? There’s been an accident and we need to do a headcount! So come on out! You can finish lunch in homeroom!”

  I flinch back into the classroom at the sound of Mr Selic’s voice. Heartrate rising and smile wiped away as I hear him leaving the stairwell to start walking down the corridor towards me. If he finds me here, whether in this classroom or just the floor, then there’ll definitely be questions after Archie is discovered.

  I look around the room. Eyeing first the cupboards filled with science equipment and then the door which is half a window by my side. There’s only one spot in these rooms that can’t be seen easily from the doorway and right now Archie’s in it. I consider tucking myself away just next to him until the dangers passed. The chance of him waking up and making a noise I can’t muffle, not to mention the bloody ruin he’ll make of my only hoodie, having me dismiss the idea at once.

  I waste another second muttering a curse at my love of short sleeved and high tucked shirts and jackets. If I’m going to be getting in more fights then, once I have some money, I’ll need to buy myself a new wardrobe.

  The sound of Selic pausing at the classroom just before this to repeat his shout has me refocusing. Heart growing still and all sound reduced to a rising ring as my eyes are drawn inexorably to the still open window. A truly insane thought worming its way into my head where it overshadows all my fears with its madness.

  ‘No one will find me on the roof.’

  The scuff of Selic’s shoes has me moving again. Sprinting forward before I can think about what I’m doing. Dropping Archie’s unlocked phone into my Pocket just in time to vault up onto the counter I just used to rearrange his face. Sneaker barely having time to squeak against the laminate surface before I rocket towards the hole in the wall and the open sky beyond.

  I spin as I jump, passing through the gap in the windows top right corner with my back to the ground five stories below. My right hand gripping hold of the head casing to help throw me out and up. My left shooting forward to rise above the lip and to where my fingers can dig into the soft felt of the roof itself. The tarred grit bites into the sensitive flesh under my nails as I use the leverage to pull the rest of my upper body out of the gap. Core locked and feet kept straight out before me so I don’t risk kicking the window or ceiling. My waist rises smoothly above the lip, no different to if I were climbing from a pool, and gives me a good look of the many HVAC units covered in bird poo and dead leaves that dot the flat roof.

  Only for a moment though. With a wet pop, and the unfortunately familiar sensation of a joint dislocating, my left arm collapses. Already injured elbow giving out under my weight as I try to lever myself the rest of the way up. I barely manage to keep hold of the windows head casing with my right while throwing myself forward to desperately try and keep some kind of grip on the roof. The poorly thought-out move sending me crashing face first into the dirt covered felt. Rattling my teeth and filling my mouth with the taste of iron as I bite my tongue.

  The sudden impact on my chest is the real problem though. Collapsing arm and forward lunge having me slam my ribs directly into the roof’s lip and sending a fresh wave of agony straight through me. The pain breaking the panic induced flow state that had gotten me here and so leaving me dangling half out a window as all my fear of heights returns.

  A scream rises from my chest. Only managing to escape as a tiny moue of terror. Breath sucked down in gulps that never make it to my lungs as a silent wail seizes hold of my throat. It’s all I can do to keep my legs still instead of kicking out madly for a toehold. With my strength, putting a dent in the wall, or worse, shattering the window, would be all too easy.

  The reminder of why I’m doing this, and how close Selic must be, does nothing to help me get control of my terror. Only the burst of rage at my own inability to control my body giving me the strength to let go of the windowsill with my right hand. Making what should be an easy grab for the roof’s lip that no gymnast should struggle with.

  I do, of course. Panic making my clumsy and causing me to miss the first grab. Dropping me half a foot before my fingers are able to close on the thin metal of the roof’s lip. Chin digging a furrow through the layers of dirt while my ribs feel like they’re about to punch through my back.

  The pain at least gives me the focus I need to pull myself the rest of the way out of the window. Feet dangling over empty air for a terrifying second before I push off the glass as gently as I’m able in my current state. The force still enough to slam the window back into its fittings, and then a little out of them the other way, as I swing my legs up. Rolling onto my back and shaking from head to toe as I regret every choice that has brought me here.

  “Hello? Whoever’s in here I know I heard your shoes squeak, and then a bang when you ran to hide just now. Pay more attention in gym class if you want to try and hide from me.”

  Selic’s voice knocks me out of my spiralling thoughts. The sound of his steps as he enters the room below me starting a new panic as I try to edge away from the roof’s lip just beside me. My body having other ideas as it insists on trembling uselessly while I clench my teeth hard enough to feel the gums bleed. Limbs continuing to shake and quiver while pain and blind terror roll through me. My hands refusing to release the dug in grip they’ve made in the roof. Even the pain of my ribs and the awful sensation of my still at least partially dislocated left elbow doing nothing to focus me.

  The sound of Selic’s steps coming to a stop on the counter’s far side does at least convince my body to wriggle away from the edge. Far enough that an errant gust of wind won’t blow my hair down in front of the window. The movement sends a twinge of agony through me, shocking a gasp out from between my clenched teeth. Only quickly shoving a hand into my mouth stops it from being a scream.

  “Alright. I guess it must have been the wind... Just put the window back after you’re done smoking. And don’t blame me when you all get detention for not being around for the headcount!”

  I listen with a hand clamped tight over my mouth until I’m sure Selic has left. Waiting until I can hear him shouting into classrooms further down the corridor before I finally let myself breathe again. The release of tension does more bad things to my ribs. Making me bite down another scream when I feel them poking something soft inside my chest.

  Trying to convince my still shaking hand right hand to release its grip on the roof has no effect. The fingers certain that the only thing stopping me from flying over the edge is the groove they’ve dug into the surface. Instead, my body just shakes harder as the immediate risk of discovery draws further away. The pain in my side getting worse with every tremor.

  I give up the battle with my own body for now. Focusing instead on counting the clouds before they can be torn away by some distortion in the air far above me. Not fighting the pain nor trying to stop the tremors or wordless notes of panic that slip out through my lips.

  I let them come, just doing my best to breathe slowly while keeping my focus on the sky. Watching as this cold and overcast autumn day quickly becomes brighter. Some shift in the overlapping dimensions that the city sits in causing the wind to continue its rapid increase in strength. A strong whiff of sea breeze even managing to reach me from an ocean that might be a literal world away.

  The weather over the South Pacific had apparently been turbulent even before the Founders chose it as the spot to bind our three realities together. Building an artificial continent right in the middle hadn’t helped matters. Great for property developers, terrible for aviation companies.

  The distraction works, my fingers slipping free of the roof on the next attempt. Quickly, I slam my hand against the spot on my chest where it hurts the most. Which is everywhere. Finding by feel the ribs which have come loose before my scrabbling fingers can freeze up again. From the shape of them, it seems the mostly healed breakage from yesterday has now been re-broken. I take the precaution of sliding a wad of scop out of my Pocket to stuff into my mouth before wrenching them back into place.

  “Mrghhhh!”

  The pain goes from raw agony to a deep, dull ache that only serves to make me more aware of the rest of my re-opened injuries. The still dislocated elbow currently being the worst of them. Though, the taste of plain roast scop isn’t actually that far behind. The bunched-up log of base protein torn almost clean through by my teeth. It did its job though and I force myself to focus on chewing through the dense lump of pseudo-meat. The taste of blood quickly overpowered by the flavour of bitter milk and ash. Bracing my floppy elbow against the roof before, in a repeat of yesterday, I force it back into the socket.

  The horrible feeling of bone grinding across bone before the joint sloshes into the right spot is one that I’m now unfortunately familiar with. The sensation having me cough violently as a scream tries to escape from my scop filled mouth. I have to roll onto my side and spit most of the scop out onto the roof or risk chocking.

  I hack and spit for a minute or so as I pull out more painkillers and water. Dragging my still shaking body over to the nearest HVAC unit to lean up against the side. I don’t bother counting the pills this time, tearing open the entire packet and forcing them all down with the last of my water.

  I heave down cold air as rage quickly grows to replace blind panic. Rage at Archie for bleeding too much for me to hide with him. Rage at Amelia for taking down the Host and setting the teachers to gathering everyone. Rage at Selic for almost finding me even after all the bullshit I’ve gone through today. But most of all, rage at myself for not even being able to control my own fucking body.

  I breathe deep and slow while staring out over the city. Feeling as the tremors slowly shift from fear to anger and eventually, come to a stop. My chattering teeth being the last part of me that I regain control of. Forcing them to tight stillness before spitting out the mix of blood and scop now stuck between my teeth.

  Finally feeling calm enough to rest, I look out across the regimented lines and pockmarked scars of the fourth circle. My eyes, as always, drawn first to the glistening light of other realities as they play across the Nail’s rough surface. The third ring round blocking sight of most of the rest of the city where it rises up what must be close to a hundred kilometres away.

  My breath slowing further as true calmness finally returns and I let my gaze slip downwards. Ignoring closer things to instead peer past the neon billboards and rising spires of future mega-blocks to spot my dad’s apartment block a district over. This far from the city centre, the hex-grid advance of Throne’s future is only a distant dream. Or nightmare, depending on who you ask. The natural sprawl of the second circle replaced with roads like arteries that divide the fourth into districts according to the purpose of their planners. Or the demands of those who paid for them.

  Artificial rivers are looped playfully through the nicer areas, where house prices are high or green space was budgeted for, disappearing back underground or allowed to flow into lakes once their purpose is served. Some, usually far from those nicer areas, are industrial smoke stacks. Places where the endless movement of heavy industry and the last reserves of fossil fuel take in the multiverses bounty to process it into more profitable forms.

  Others are corporate enclaves or more specialised things, their edges often fortified and interiors built for the express purpose of serving whatever stands at their centre. Whether it’s a major corporate facility or the corpse of an alien kaiju now being mined for materials not found in our reality.

  My eyes straining as I make use of my now higher elevation to get a better look at the closest, and most recent, of the monsters. The vaguely frog-like behemoth too far away to tell if it’s actually dead or just frozen in stasis. I’d been meaning to look it up but other things keep distracting me or getting in the way.

  Case in point, another strong gust of wind throws my hair back into my face and has me spitting out strands while I struggle to tie it up at last. By the time the wind dies down enough to do so, I’m facing the other way. My focus stolen by the glint of white walls that rise higher than most skyscrapers. The core of a district not far from the third ring road that has been walled off behind a towering bulwark of featureless chalk cliffs. Lost, along with all those trapped inside.

  happier than I was with some of the others. So, an improvement! The next chapter will be the end of this arc and will likely be posted on the 16th or a day later a the worst.

  Thankfully, it only takes another few slams before I can be sure he’s passed out. His struggles stilling and attempts to shout going silent. I still keep my trembling grip locked on his hair and arm until I’m completely certain that he’s gone limp. The adrenaline that had fuelled my snapped temper now crashing out of me and leaving a mix of cold dread and rising mania in its place.

  ‘Oh shit.’

  I raise Archies now limp head up for a fourth time. My arms trembling and knees going weak as I watch him pull down breathes through the bloody mess of his nose. I can barely feel the weight. A retch rises up inside me at the sight of what I’ve done and I have to fight to keep it down. Knowing that, just like in the IT block, I can’t afford to leave any sign I was here.

  I stay trapped looking at where his eyes are still covered under the hand that I’m effortlessly holding across them. Mind churning as I come to terms with what my snapped temper has done. The dread fading in steps as I slowly convince myself that I can handle this. Have handled this. Even if it was done in the moment and without a shred of planning.

  I needed to stop him from seeing anymore texts and I had to get the phone back. Perhaps, talking could have worked and I definitely should have tried it but whatever he’d seen on the phone had been too much. I’d like to say I’d planned on giving him a concussion and blaming it on Jason. But all of that had just been instinct driven rage I’m even now struggling to untangle. Another loss of control.

  My grip on his hair and hand tightens at the thought. The last of the dread driven out as rage returns, now aimed at myself. The feel of synth-weave pulled free under my fingers has me slackening my grip before I can hurt him further. My eyes glancing to the door to again make sure I’m alone.

  The one saving grace in all this is that no one else could have seen it and that I didn’t give Archie the chance to think clearly. If he’d taken a moment to do so, then it should’ve been pretty obvious that the hands gripping him were in the wrong position to have come from behind. Not to mention my fingers are far too small to be mistaken for Jason’s. Again though, a concussion isn’t conducive to logical thoughts.

  I do feel a little bad for making Jason a new enemy but, given how low his attendance is, I doubt it will matter. Not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before anyway.

  I can start to understand why as I release Archie’s now heavily bruised and bloody face with an unintentional sigh of contentment. A flash of guilt at the response not succeeding in stopping the deep satisfaction now welling up from inside me. There is something extremely cathartic about just hitting your problems until they stop being so.

  It certainly helped with how easy it was. The boy who must be close to twice my weight and a good foot higher unable to put up even a token resistance. My grip too strong for him to ever break and movements fast enough that he’d barely had the chance to react. Even then, I’d been holding back.

  It’s with something close to sadness that I let him slump half off the counter. Lowering his head and pulling him forward to try and get him settled across it. His upper half being heavier than I expected and so forces me to dodge back as his weight slides him the rest of the way onto the floor. Face first.

  -----(Later on)------

  I step back from my handiwork with a warm glow of satisfaction. The relief of finally getting to work out the frustration of the last few hours overshadowing the guilt and worry still trying to bring me down. I can freak out later while waiting to see what the fallout of this actually is. For all my rationalising, I can only guess at what will actually happen.

  I pull out some tissues to wipe away the blood that has spilled onto my hands as I walk over to pick up my now even more cracked phone from where it fell. Pushing away anymore worries for the future until I’ve at least gotten a chance to see if losing my temper with Archie was worth it. I don’t know what I’ll do if I did all this only for him to have just seen a spam text. The phone’s screen is flickering and so cracked it’s somewhat hard to make out the message after the latest bit of damage. The burner looks unlikely to even open and makes me thankful that I’d already been planning on replacing it.