"That's enough, don't you think so?" He repeated.
My head slowly turned towards him, my gaze devoid of any form of warmth as I spoke, "Let go."
He didn't show any signs of change in his expression as he replied, "I'm sure you're angry at someone, but taking it out on this poor dude is just wrong."
The crowd hummed in agreement, their faces riddled with shock and fear as they cast fleeting glances at me.
"He insulted Miriam," I argued.
"He was drunk," he countered.
My gaze turned to the swollen face, his blood and tears becoming indistinguishable, and flitted to the completely chipped pieces of wood scattered around his face.
'Is this what I've become? Some edgy main character who can't take control of his emotions?'
I released my grip on the man's collar and slowly stood up with his help.
"Densdor? Is that you?" A patron called out hesitantly.
'Densdor? Why does that name sound very familiar?'
