When He Gets Hurt

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A/N: Published the wrong chapter yesterday. Oops. 

Newt could feel the anger slowly ebbing away as grief and pain replaced his rage.

 He sat slumped on the floor of your shared room. panting from his exertions. All around the room, furniture, books and shattered belongings littered the ground. 

The news of his Mother's valliant death had shaken him to the core and fury had quickly taken over his "rational" emotions. Newt had began to smash anything in his close vicinity. It felt good. The pleasure he got watching his belongings smash into a waterfall of pieces was exhilarating and he found himself unable to stop. He did not care who saw his emotional breakdown, he did not care if you watched him intently, none of that mattered but the anger.

In his damaged mind, thoughts of his Mother flashed before his eyes, mentally making him scream in despair. One particular theme ran through his internal torture:

It wasn't fair.

He suddenly whinced, focusing his attention to his bleeding foot, a deep gash that slowly but steadily oozed the irony, red substance from the self-inflicted wound. Leaning further into the wall. The handsome, exhausted male began to weep for his loss. He wanted more than anything for his Mother to comfort him, to tell him that everything was going to be ok but that was never going to happen. Newt was now well and truly broken.

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