My grip on the Louisville Slugger tightened, the feel of the rough wood a grounding sensation amidst the chaos. My pupils felt dilated, my senses sharpened. The heavy bass of the music no longer felt like background noise—it was a pulse, a rhythm, a command torelease.
"Again!" Aria roared, swinging her sledgehammer with short, precise bursts at a stack of old CDs to my left. Fragments glittered across the concrete floor. "Don't hold back, Isa! Tell that monitor what you think of its judgment!"
We screamed and smashed. Bottles exploded straight ahead. Chairs snapped to the right. Plates flew against the wall behind us. The floor became a graveyard of broken things, each fragment a tiny exorcism of anger.
Crunch. Crack. Yes. Yes!
I kicked a monitor until sparks sputtered. Take that, take all of it.
