Quiet is Viølent

This is who I am.
What I shouldn't do I will.

He put his hands over his face and dragged them over his eyes, shielding them from the white bathroom lights.

He wanted to cry out.

No!

It's all my fault.

He hit the back of his head against the wall behind him and slid down to a sitting position on the floor. The tiles were cold. The kind of cold that was unforgiving and dark. He hated the cold.