When Hillary gets back near the door of the dining hall, he doesn't enter.
The very thought of stepping inside feels suffocating. His chest is burning, his breath uneven, his jaw locked so tightly he feels pain shoot up into his temples.
He turns sharply, his movements clipped, and storms away, his strides long carrying him down the corridor toward his room.
He throws the door open and slams it back unknowingly. The sound of the bang reaches his ears, but it's faint, muffled, as though even that violent release cannot pierce through the storm raging inside his head.
"She only makes you lower your guard, makes you pathetic and desperate! What's so good about that!
Let go of her… let go of her…" The words tumble from his lips, low at first but rising, ragged, like a chant.
His voice breaks with frustration as he repeats them, each syllable sounding more desperate than the last.
