John just stood there and listened to her pacing hurriedly back and forth in the bedroom, moving on to the next finger as his index finger started to bleed. He'd managed to regulate the temper tantrums of late, he'd thought he was fine. He'd stopped taking the medication too, stopped going to the therapist. His mother was going to make him go back, he knew that for sure. Bitch bitch bitch. Women couldn't be trusted. She'd wound him up on purpose, hitting him where he was weakest because she could.
Isabelle rushed past him with her head down. John watched her go past, words in his throat. Just no no no no no "No!" he burst out at last, as her hand touched the doorknob. "You can't!"