control

Written for theatrical_muse

Shy was numb. He wasn't aware of when the sun came up or how long he'd been sitting on the dock. His eyes weren't focused on the shimmering surface of the water as the light from the sun hit it. The events of the past few hours had stripped him of all feeling. Or it seemed that way, anyway.

He had killed a man. The gun, wrapped up in his hoodie, was sitting next to him on the dock. He swore he could hear it thrumming with energy as if it were a living thing, eager to tell its tale of anger and murder. It reminded him of that story he'd read in school about the man who heard the heart beating in his floor. Someone was going to find out that he had killed Hammer. When they did, he would be dead, too.

It had happened so quickly. There had been shouting, there had been accusations and venom flung by each side, and there had been a flash and a nerve shattering bang that had ended it all. Never in his life had Shy felt so helpless to stop his own actions. It hadn't even felt as if he were the one firing the gun. But when it was all over, when he stared down at the dead man, he knew that he had let himself become so enraged, he had lost all reason.

Sitting there on the dock, seeing and feeling nothing, Shy was only aware of a single thought that had taken up residence in his head.

What would stop him from losing control like that again?

questions because orlandomuse thought I'd answer them

( Lots of them )