Rage

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

Daniel didn't have to be told twice. The sounds that came from the other side of that door froze his blood. The growls, the muzzled screams, the snarls. The sound that scared Daniel the most was the weeping. It sounded human, but wrong. Like someone crying through a broken jaw: all pained, wordless, vowels.

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

Daniel hated the way Boss Myers looked at his mother. He hated the way she came home from his rooms hollow-eyed, bruised, and disheveled.

Daniel wasn't a kid anymore. He knew what he was doing to her. This compound was supposed to be safe from the outside world!

Daniel dug his fingernails into his bare skin at night, fighting to keep the door shut. It helped still his rage. He woke up with crescent scabs in his sides and dried blood under his nails.

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

The next time Daniel saw Boss Myers, he couldn't stop the anger from contorting his face.

Myers sneered. "Cheer up, Daniel. Play your cards right and maybe you'll be in charge one day." Then Myers leaned in close so no one else could hear. "Then you'll get your pick of the litter, too."

Daniel wanted to tear that smug look right off the President's face, but he did nothing.

That night, Daniel thrashed in bed, fighting to keep the door within shut.

There was only one rule. There was only one rule.

But what use was the compound if the worst parts of the world followed them in?

There was only one rule.

Well, rules were made to be broken.

"Time to blow off some steam," Daniel said.

And he opened the door.