Daggermouth

“No.” He didn’t turn around, couldn’t look at them. If he did, he might do something stupid. Like show another person his face.

The bedroom door slammed behind him with enough force to rattle the bed frame. He pressed his back against it, chest heaving, and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Blood seeped through his fingers where he pressed against the wound.

Through the door, he could hear Chapman’s measured voice, asking Shadera if she required medical attention. Her response was too low to make out, but the tone suggested threats of violence if he came any closer.

Greyson closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the door.

His father wanted them to destroy each other, and it seemed he might just get his wish.