Gemotions

His mother’s words echoed in his ears, each syllable a tiny hammer blow against his skull. He saw his sister’s face, usually so sunny, now radiating a serene, almost alien peace. It infuriated him.

He slammed his fist against the kitchen counter. The wood groaned in protest. "You're all going to be damned," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. The words felt like a physical expulsion, a venomous spray.

He couldn't stand to be in the same room. He needed to be away from the source of his current state. He grabbed his keys and left, the slam of the door a violent punctuation mark to his misery.