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Ten Days Later.
Credence could feel the anger slowly ebbing away as grief and pain replaced his rage. He sat slumped on the floor of his room. panting from his exertions. All around his room, furniture, books, shattered belongings littered the ground. The lack of progress with the search had shaken him to the core, fury had quickly taken over his "rational" emotions.
The moment the Magizoologist had left, Credence 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.
In his damaged mind, thoughts of (Person A) flashed before his eyes, mentally making him scream in despair. One particular theme ran through his internal torture:
It wasn't fair. How could they still be lost? Without them, he had nothing. He was alone in the world once more.
He suddenly winced, 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 elegant, handsome, exhausted male began to weep for his loss. He wanted more than anything for (Person A) to comfort him, to tell him that everything was going to be ok but that was never going to happen. Credence was now well and truly broken.
