(This takes place while our main party is out in the forest fighting their first Red-Wolves together in Chapter 21)

Fuck them, FUCK THEM ALL! He threw the desk chair against the wall of his room. It didn't break. He wanted it to break, he had to break something. He picked the chair up again and smashed it repeatedly until it was nothing but splinters. More, he needed to destroy more.

The prayer book. Fucking book, fucking priests, fucking god-damned religion. He began to rip the pages one by one methodically.

Rip

He'd been happy.

Rip

His father had money.

Rip

His mother doted on him.

Rip

He could have had any girl he'd wanted.

Rip

But no, those fucking priests had taken everything from him.

Rip

Rip

Rip

Everything gone. Gone. Now they were treating him like he was the fucking problem.

Rip

He'd done nothing wrong.

Rip

They were the fucking problem.

Rip.

“FUCK!” he screamed throwing the rest of the book towards the window. He'd wanted the glass to shatter into a thousand pieces, but the book just bounced off with a thump.

He fell to his knees and gave a wordless scream. He doubled over and just screamed. Over and over he screamed. There was knocking on the door. Pounding.

Someone had gotten a key and opened the door. Someone was by his side. Patting his back trying to give him words of comfort.

A fucking priest. The red vestments were enough to let him know that. Gods, he wanted to take that sash, wrap it around the man's neck, and squeeze the life out of him. It wasn't fair. He'd done nothing wrong.

Eventually, he'd stopped screaming. The priests got him to bed. They murmured things about cleaning up in the morning. Then they left.

They left him alone.

“Big mistake,” he whispered into the dark.

He was formulating a plan. In his rage, he'd seen one verse in the prayer book. That one verse was the beginning of his plan. He'd get revenge. He'd destroy them all. His pain wouldn't be for nothing.

In the dark of night, he set fire to his room. Broke the window, jumped out to freedom. To the beginning of his new life.

He'd call on her daughter, he'd use her own daughter against her. She thought she had brought him down. No, it was he who would bring them all down. Using her own daughter.

He laughed into the cold morning air. It'd probably rain today. He wanted a fucking big storm. One to fit his mood.

“Bring it on, fuckers.” He flipped the bird to the heavens.