"That bitch thinks she can tell me I'm wrong to my face?!" Damian growled under his breath as he marched through the corridor, his fists clenched tightly while the frown on his face became increasingly severe.
The guards stationed along the hallway immediately noticed his mood and instinctively avoided looking directly at him, keeping their heads lowered as he passed.
Damian suddenly stopped halfway down the corridor and threw both hands apart in frustration. "Like yeah, it's my fault she chose to stand with the angels while I got my heart ripped out because I didn't give her enough reasons to see the goodness in the darkness!"
His voice echoed through the corridor, and he suddenly turned toward the nearest guard. "Can you imagine that?"
The guard blinked rapidly, completely confused by the question. "Y... Yes... No, sire!" he screamed nervously, apparently realizing halfway through his answer that there was no correct response.
