Life wasn’t fair. Or God was out to get him. Either way, he was knee-deep in chicken waste.
You get a little physical with someone and they die on you.
He shuddered with the wave of rage that swept over him. He stared at the ocean. What he needed was a hurricane so he could experience the force and frenzy of the water and wind. Exorcise his personal fury.
He hadn’t meant to kill. He hadn’t. But the stupid person up and died anyway. What was he supposed to do about it now? Dead was dead.
One thing for sure. They weren’t taking him down over it. Okay, maybe they wouldn’t say it was murder, it being an accident and all, but manslaughter could take him down too. Hard and fast. And he had no desire to fall.
His jaw hurt. He must be grinding his teeth in his sleep. He opened and shut his mouth, rotated his jaw. If anything, the throbbing increased, and with the pain his rage heated and burned.
He shook with the intensity of his hatred.