Rome went classroom to classroom just completely exhausting himself by destroying everything insight. He wanted to go back to the room so tired all he could do was sleep, he didn't wanna feel so hollow. He needed those fucking pills, to reel him in.
They helped his personality issues, his anger especially. They soothed his depression, which was by no means normal. He wasn't out of it in the aspect he couldn't be bothered to care about himself or others, no on the contrary, he cared about others too much. his depression was homicidal. Everybody fucked him over by just breathing, he wanted everybody damaged. Teeth missing, eyes blackened, skin bleeding, joints tight, bones broken. Utterly destroyed.
A man with nothing to lose is a dangerous man indeed.
He buzzed the intercom from beside the empty teachers desk. "Attention all fucktards and asswipes, party in the art department you filthy animals. Last man standing gets a blowie." And then he let go hearing the static as his voice stopped broadcasting over the entire building.
He knew what he was doing could be suicide, but he also knew it'd feel amazing.
To give is to get.