Liam sat outside the principal's office, his bloodied hands resting on his lap, his fingers slightly curled as he stared at them, lost in thought. The crimson stains on his knuckles had begun to dry, forming dark patches against his pale skin, and yet, even as he looked at them, he felt… nothing.
No regret.
No satisfaction.
Just emptiness.
His mind kept replaying the events from moments ago, as if trying to make sense of what had happened, as if trying to understand how he had lost control so completely. He had been in fights before—plenty of them—but no matter how bad they got, no matter how angry he was, he had never fully lost himself the way he did today.
Even when he had fought those thugs at Amanda's house, even when his anger had been boiling over, even when his rage had consumed him, there was still a part of him that remained in control. He had been reckless, but he was still him. He could still think. He could still decide when to stop.
