Viral

Twenty Four

Everything you say to me takes me one step closer to the edge. And I'm about to break

-Linkin Park

When you hear people talk about anger they tell you what they see. They speak of seeing black or red, or absolutely nothing at all. They tell you how they fade out of consciousness and only regain it after the situation has detonated like a nuclear bomb and they are left in the epicenter deciphering what has happened through the ashes.

I can tell you what it sounds like. It's deafeningly quiet. The silence is so loud it will mute out even your thoughts. Beyond the silence there's only the mumbling thunder of the accelerated palpations of your heart.

I can tell you what anger tastes like. It is bitter like old oranges and black coffee resting on your tongue. Like your first taste of dark chocolate, it is lacking all the sweets but still brings on all the regret for indulging.

I can tell you it smells like sulfur mixed with burning plastic. Like week old take out you forgot about after hoarding it under your bed. Like a fish carcass rotting in the sun. It's unsettling to the point you're dizzy and seeping with rage.

I can tell you it feels like goosebumps shooting up your arms and the tiny hairs that stand on attention on the back of your neck when you're afraid. Was I afraid to kill him? Did I want to? Was blinding rage what my father felt as he squeezed the life out of my rapist's lungs? Should Jordan lose his life for revictimizing me all over again?

I didn't get the chance to decide.

When reality hit and I regained all of my senses I felt restricted. I realized I was encased in a bear hug from the behind by not only a strong pair of arms but the familiar scent of Marcus. I blinked a few timers catching the lasting traces of Jordan scuffling to get out of my room in a coughing fit.

"Beckett calm down! Beckett! Breathe!" I must have been red in the face. I was also breathing like I had just completed a triathlon. His command to breathe made me question if my lungs were even capable of cooperating my brain. "What the hell happened?"

"Ryland? Marcus? Fuck this I'm coming!" Finn's voice was inching closer. I had no answers for either of them. I couldn't even comprehend the information Jordan had given me.

His disdain for me made no sense. At least not to the point that he would deliberately try to ruin my life. "I was going to kill him! I think I was seriously going to kill him!"

The revelation retriggered my erratic breathing. Was my humiliation worth a life? No. But in the moment it sure felt like it. "Ryland what happened? I could hear you arguing but I thought you were playing until I heard scuffling." Finn moved to sit in front of me, the calming blue of his eyes washed over me like crashing waves.

Marcus slowly let go of me. "Yeah and when I walked in Jordan was damn near purple. What was that about? What did he say to piss you off that bad? Did he call you Medusa?" I lifted a brow in confusion at the same time Marcus pointed to the socks in my hair. "Cause I mean I was thinking it too but if you were gonna kill Jordan over it then I change my stance. Tube socks are kinda hot I guess."

I wasn't in the mood for jokes despite Marcus trying to shake me out of my fury. Not ten seconds ago I was about to kill a man on my bedroom floor out of rage. I stood and raked my hands over my face. "It's not what he said, it's what he did."

Instinctively Finn stood puffing his chest in a defensive stance. He looked ready to attack. "What do you mean 'what he did'? He didn't try something with you? Are you ok? I'll kill him myself."

I was about to tell them what Jordan had done until the last sentence from Finn registered. If anyone was to kill him I deserved the honors. I hadn't had a second to calculate my reaction to Jordan's words and it hadn't dawned on me that by telling Marcus and Fnn they too would react on impulse.