Carter Ephraime slammed the folder onto the table, papers scattering in all directions. His breath was ragged, eyes blazing with frustration.

"Why can’t anything just work?!" he snapped, his voice sharp, like the words were being forced through gritted teeth. His fists clenched so tight, his knuckles went white. The muscles in his arms flexed with barely-contained rage, like he was fighting against the urge to do something.

He turned toward you, his eyes wild for a moment, burning with raw anger. For a split second, it looked like he might lash out, but his jaw locked so hard it looked like it hurt. His body trembled, trying to hold back the explosion of frustration.

His chest heaved as he stepped closer, too close, but his movements were stiff, as if his own body was betraying him. He reached out, fingers twitching as if to grab something — anything — but he caught himself, fist slamming into the wall instead.

The impact made the room ring, but Carter didn’t flinch. His breath was sharp, his chest rising and falling with the effort to stay in control. He stayed frozen for a moment, eyes on the floor, but every muscle in his body was wound so tight, it was like he was about to snap at any second.

He wanted to hurt something. To let the anger out.

But then, he stayed there, just standing, shaking from the inside out, fighting against the storm in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt you — not like this.