The Altered.

Chapter LX.

That wall that Miles had built up so carefully around his emotions was tumbling and it was tumbling fast.

Seeing Aaron so upset had only made Miles' own sadness swell like a pool ready to overflow. When that pool overflowed, Miles was in trouble.

Being alone didn't help.

Emotions were something that took experience to hide, that's for sure - but once one had kept them concealed for long enough, it was almost like they didn't exist. But all it took was one rattling event to shake said person back to the reality that they couldn't lock their feelings away forever.

Miles was realising gradually that he was rapidly losing the control he'd always had. He was so sick of blinking back tears and biting back his cries and maintaining that stupid facade.

Blurry tears welled in the corner of his vision.

How many times had it been predicted in storybooks that by this time in the future, they'd have time machines?

They didn't, but Miles wished desperately that they did. There were so many things he wanted to rewind.

Miles was currently on the first floor of the library, by himself. The sun had set and the moon had started its climb into the inky sky, making it relatively dark inside the library. Miles wasn't lonely, but somewhere in the back of his head, there was a wish for company. He wasn't desperate enough for it to return to his friends on the second level, so he stayed here, wandering thoughtlessly through the shelves.

When his mind was so distracted like this, sometimes he could swear his hands were sticky with blood, that his hands were dealing with the weight of knives. It was so easy to forget that that was all just his imagination; it felt so real.

He reminded himself that in reality, it wasn't even imagination. It was a memory.

Miles stopped in his tracks to kick one of the shelves with his shoe. It felt good, so he did it again, harder this time. The smart half of him told him that there were countless, more productive ways to express his anger, but it didn't matter to him. With nobody down here with him to witness his absurd, childish tantrum, Miles kicked the shelf again and again until he started aiming his violence at the books instead of the structure to hold them up. He cried and he tore books from their shelves and hurled them at the ground, entertaining the small voice at the back of his head telling him that destroying things would make him feel better. It did, even though he knew it was wrong.

Miles kept going, a reckless creature. He was yelling - at nobody, about nobody - just yelling. Most of what he shouted wasn't even coherent or comprehensible. He kept kicking and shoving things until books were all over the ground and shelves were splintering. He just wanted to wear himself out, or at least give himself a distraction.

"Miles!"

Miles had almost forgotten that he wasn't the only one in the library. He was making enough noise to alert his friends, that's for sure. A sudden thought struck him and he realised that he could well have alerted more than just his friends. Things that meant no good. Altered.

But there were no Altered that had found their way here yet.

Lia's voice was full of panic when she called his name for a second time, and this was enough to have Miles take a step back.

When Lia appeared, it was just her. It would have been a relief, but there was nothing relieving about her stricken expression or the way she hovered a few metres away like she was scared.

Miles stumbled. He wiped his eyes with his wrist and let himself actually take in what he'd just done.

"What," Lia breathed, "did you do?"