James picked at the splintered wood of the cabinet Steven had beaten to pieces in a fit. He smiled slightly, as if it gave him some small pleasure, knowing now that this normally quiet and patient man had a breaking point. That he was not all together... above.
“Did it make you feel any better?” James asked.
Steven expected James was fishing for admission of regrets, an apology of some sort, shame. Because that’s what the World wanted, Wasn't it? When you lost your cool and busted something to pieces—Regrets? Apologies?
Thing was, Steven didn't regret a thing. Not this time. Not the mess, not the questions, not the inconvenience. It was kill or be killed. The cabinet or him. He saw that. Now. Life is not a tangible bully. It pushes and pushes until you break and strike out blindly in self defense. Hit something. Anything.
“You know what,” Steven said, “It did feel good. Very good.”