When I broke my arm in fifth grade, the doctor told my parents and me that it would grow a callous, a protective shield, which would make it stronger than ever before. I’m like that bone. I won’t break. I’ve already been broken, and I’m stronger for it.

I’ve grieved for my brother.
I’ve hated myself.
I have healed.
Bring it on, Voclain Academy.
— Harlow

I’ve ruled these grounds for three long years. I should have been expelled on at least six separate occasions, and those are just the ones I remember between the booze and the blackouts. I was a king known for a quick fuse and an even quicker right hook.

But I promised Harlow I would holster my fists senior year.
Some of my classmates bring out the worst in me though and keeping that promise is going to be harder than I thought.

She’s the only tether on my wrath. Pull that tether too tight, and it will snap.
Then Hell will unleash on all of us.
Watch your back, Voclain.
— Ian