Of course, once the red cloud of rage had faded from my gaze, I began regretting the manner in which I'd ended our conversation. Not just because of the harsh words I had shot at her, but also because the irony of the entire situation finally struck me. After all, what right did I have to seek retribution for Max's death, when I'd played a part in it as well?

And yet, despite the fact this thought hung around in my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about Lucas. A small voice whispered to me that I was being hypocritical, but I dismissed it every time it did.

But even with the malicious thoughts I had towards him, my heartbeat still sped up anytime his green eyes flashed before my eyes. My lungs still constricted anytime I remembered his smirk or the sound of his voice. My hands still shook anytime I thought about meeting him face to face.

And, of course, shame quickly came rushing in anytime my body reacted in those ways. Because anytime I felt even a tinge of fear while thinking about Lucas, I somehow felt like I was failing Max. Like I wouldn't have the strength to face Lucas when I got the opportunity to.

As you might guess, all those emotions and thoughts clashing and mixing with one another did not help my psyche. In fact, I spent a good part of the rest of that day and the next either pacing around my room or curled up in bed. The aching knuckles I got after I slammed my fist into the walls of my room severally ultimately did nothing but remind me that while I spent my time agonizing over the issue, Lucas remained unbothered.

So yeah, eventually I realized Annie was right. But did I go and apologize to her?

Nope.

In a manner befitting of the bastard I was, I decided the best way to solve the problem was to begin avoiding Annie again. After all, what you don't address doesn't exist, right?

Ladies and Gentlemen, the infallible logic of the over-bloated ego of an eighteen-year-old!

I suspect Annie was avoiding me also. When we bumped into each other in the dining room the next Monday morning, she quickly muttered something about having forgotten her shower on, then rushed past me.

I was fine with that though. It saved me the trouble of having to think up an excuse for rushing off to school before I even had breakfast.

I'd like to say that I enjoyed staying in school more than at home, but sadly that'd be a lie. That week was absolutely swamped with tests, so much that I even caught Hans studying in the library!

Speaking of tests, remember how I'd spent the majority of my Saturday and Sunday either pacing around my room or curled up in bed? Well, none of that time had been allocated to studying.

Now, this wasn't a problem for me in most of my tests, seeing as I already understood most of the topics they were covering. However, when it came to my History test, I was stumped. For not only had I not been revising the reading material for that class, but my mind was also occupied by thoughts of the situation I was dealing with at home, for the majority of the time during that test. When the teacher announced that time was up, I realized that I hadn't even gone halfway through.

It's safe to say that I didn't come out of that test smiling.

Matter of fact, it wasn't only during that test that I found myself struggling to keep up with the time constraints set. Whereas prior to that week I had no trouble in finishing with so much time to spare that I could go over my answers severally, I found myself barely meeting the time limits that had been set for my other tests then.

Of course, no amount of test work would have made Miss Delane call off the play, so rehearsals went on. However, Aimee and I had to cut off our after-school sessions for that week, simply because we were both swamped with work.

I'd admit, that sucked. After all, I wasn't in any rush to head back home after school, and I certainly wasn't in the mood to force myself to entertain the usual babbles of anyone else I could have hung out with (except Mitch, because he's actually a great study partner. Unfortunately, he had started renting out his tutoring services to my peers, so he was always pretty booked after school hours).

Don't get it twisted though, it's not like Aimee hadn't asked me to come over during her study sessions. In fact, I was the one who declined, because a good majority of her study sessions were led by Dylan.

Contrary to what you may be thinking, I didn't decline based off any personal feelings I had towards Dylan. I declined because seeing Dylan brought up unwelcome thoughts in my head.

See, in spite of my initial burning desire to find his uncle, after I had calmed down, Dylan's little cousin Liden crossed into my mind. Honestly, my stomach twisted a little bit anytime I thought of the fact that his dad was gone, and I had played a role in that. Even worse, he had no idea about it then.

Naturally, I started avoiding anything that brought up his face to my mind.

The week flew by rather quickly, mostly because every day seemed like an almost exact replica of the one before it. When I was at home, I spent my time locked in my room, save for the moments I snuck downstairs to get meals. When I was in school, I spent the day half-heartedly conversing with people, attending classes, taking tests, and participating in Miss Delane's rehearsals.

On Friday, Aimee finally invited me over for a practice session at her house set for the next day, which I eagerly agreed to (obviously, I didn't show my eagerness; but still).

Therefore, I was at the front door of Aimee's house by noon the next day. As I was swiping through my contacts in order to find her number, the front door swung open before I even got the chance to call her phone.

Putting my phone back in my pocket, I drawled, "Well, that was convenie-"

My words caught in my throat when I realized that I was staring at Tim, who looked about as startled as I felt at that moment.

The startled look on his face was soon replaced by a scowl as he growled, "Thank goodness you're here. Maybe you can talk some sense into your girlfriend."

Before I got the chance to reply, Aimee's voice boomed, "Timothy, don't you dare step out of that door!"

Marching past me, Tim shouted, "For the last time, you're not my fucking mum! You don't have any right to keep me in!"

"Yes, I do!"

"No, you don't! What are you gonna do, drag me back in? 'Cause I'm sure as hell not getting back in that house of my own free will!"

Arriving at the doorstep, Aimee yelled back, "I- If you don't get back in, then I'm gonna let dad know about the issue!"

It was like those words stuck Tim's feet to the ground. Slowly, he turned around and growled, "Seriously? You'd stoop that low?"

Firmly, Aimee replied, "If you leave me no choice, then I gladly will."

Temporarily, Tim said nothing as he glared at Aimee. Then, while turning around and dragging his feet back to the doorstep, he huffed. "Right. At least now I know how much I can trust you."

Though that moment was probably not the best time to do so, I asked Aimee, "What's going on?"

"Here's an idea: how about you mind your fucking business," Tim hissed, roughly brushing past me.

Boom!

Truly, I'm not even sure exactly when my hands moved. All I know is that a few seconds later, my right hand was wrapped around Tim's throat, pinning him against the front door.

And it was squeezing.

"Angelo!"

My grip tightened as Tim struggled to get my hand off his throat. All the intense emotions I had kept buried till then began surfacing as I stared into his frightened eyes, watching as his face-

"Angelo!"

Suddenly, I found myself staggering sideways, as a result of the hands that had shoved me. Almost as if it had been triggered by a switch, the anger that had been rushing through me dissipated when I saw Aimee kneeling next to Tim, who was sucking in deep breaths as he clutched his throat.

"Hey, are you-"

"Don't touch me!"

Shrugging her hand off his shoulder, Tim got off the floor and dashed to the other side of the room. Looking back at me, he shrieked, "Y- you're a fucking psycho!"

"Tim-"

Tim stomped out of the room, ignoring Aimee's calls.

Wide-eyed, Aimee looked at me and breathed, "What the fuck was that?"

"I-"

"In fact, what the fuck has been going on with you lately?"

"N- nothing! This was a- a mistake."

"A mistake? You were strangling my brother!"

My mouth opened, but no words left them.

"Look, I don't know what's been going on with you, but lately you've been blowing up over every little thing-"

"I- it wouldn't happen again, don't worry."

I walked past her, heading in the direction of the living room we usually rehearsed in.

Of course, she followed me. "Oh yeah? How are you sure-"

"Because... I just am, okay?"

Before she could reply, I quickly added, "Anyways, what did Tim do that got you so heated?"

I guess that for a few seconds Aimee was conflicted about which topic to address because she didn't reply immediately.

When she finally did, she snapped, "Apparently he decided it would be a good idea to open a casino in school because he got suspended for organizing a gambling match!"

Although I was still shaken up by what had happened earlier, my jaw nearly dropped. "W- wait, seriously?"

"I know right, can you believe him? He and a few other guys actually used cards to organize a gambling match during lunch break, even though they know gambling is explicitly against their school's rules!"

"Wow. Honestly, he doesn't seem like the type."

"That's the thing, he never used to be like this! I mean, sure he was a bit mischievous, but never this much."

Sighing, she dropped down onto a couch. "And considering the fact dad's already pissed at him 'cause he's failing in school, I can't even imagine how he'd react if he should find out about this!"

I sat down as well. "If? So I take it that you're not going to tell him?"

"Of course not. It's better he doesn't get involved in this."

"Oh. So that threat you made outside was an empty one?"

"Oh no, I was really going to tell him if Tim had stepped out of the gate. The fact I'm not going to tell Dad doesn't mean I'm letting him go scot-free. He's grounded till further notice."

"Hmm, fair enough I guess."

"Yeah." Running her fingers through her hair, she let out another sigh before saying, "Oh well, we might as well get down to business now. Did you bring your copy?"

I shook my head. "Why do I need to? We already have the lines memorized. Well, at least I do."

"I do as well, but I like having a copy near me, just in case." She got off the couch. "Hold on, I'm gonna get mine from my room."

"Alright."

Not too long after Aimee left, thoughts about what happened earlier crept to the forefront of my mind. The feeling of Tim's throat gripped in my hand, the frightened look in his eyes as he struggled to free himself, the rising heat in my blood as I tightened my grip...

Chills ran down my spine as a thought suddenly occurred to me then: if I had reacted in such a manner to Tim without much of a thought, what's to say that I wouldn't do the same to anyone else?

What's to say you wouldn't do the same to Aimee...

Furiously shaking my head, I muttered, "I wouldn't. There's no way I-"

"Hey, I'm ready."

Looking up from my trembling fingers, my eyes snapped up to Aimee as she sat back down on the couch. "O- ok. Where'd we stop last time?"

"I think we were on Act 3 scene 5... Or was it Act 5 scene 3..." She flipped through the play for a few moments before she replied, "Ah, it's the latter. So basically, this is the..."

All of a sudden, her cheeks flushed. "This is the final scene. Which means... Well... You know what Miss Delane said..."

I'm ashamed to say that for a brief moment, I was clueless as to what she was talking about. When I did realize, however, heat rushed over my face instantly.

I cleared my throat. "Ah, yes... The final scene."

Faintly, the words Miss Delane had said a few weeks before then echoed in my head:

I've decided that we're going to cut out all the kiss scenes from the play apart from one so that the audience really feels the emotional punch when it does happen. In other words, you both should be really excited when you reach the final scene!
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Till next time!