álvaro
the last time he had his hands around someone's neck was in the tenth grade. he remembers it like it was yesterday, his fingers squeezing around the neck of the other boy, the anger in his chest that was exploding into a series of fireworks.
"you could have killed him!" he seethes, grip tightening, and there's white flashes of heat, but he ignores them. "you could have killed him! all because of your stupid prejudice against a guy who kissed another guy! he almost died!"
"do it," the bully whispers, struggling for words despite the smile on his face. "you don't have the balls."
"álvaro!" a girl yells, and it's his sister, prying him off of the boy in his brother's grade. she's clutching his hands tightly, while the bully chokes for air. "what the hell were you thinking? what's wrong with you?"
"he almost killed—"
she shakes her head, and the disappointment on her face instills a sense of failure inside of him. "violence is not always the answer, ál. don't you get that?"
the memory fades to black.
