"Fuck," Luka cursed and scratching his fingers through his hair again, ending with the grabbing a handful of it at the back of his head. "Why not? You did it to him. What difference does it make? It can't be that fucking hard. Where is he? I need to see him. He can tell me all about it. I mean, fucking seriously. I haven't seen him since his funeral. Do you know how weird as that shit is? My brain is already fucked up and then I see him dragged away in a body bag. Then? I had to fucking fly back to the bullshit place to go to his funeral, because if I didn't, I would have been even more of a fucking cunt than everyone already thought I was. Nevermind the fact I couldn't talk to anyone about the fact I saw some chick with cleavage up to here," he pointed to his chin, "top him and then watched him be dragged away in a fucking body bag."

He paused to take a breath, because his heart was racing and he was pretty sure he wasn't far off an anxiety attack. "All that after I nearly got blown up, and I still came out less injured than he did. I have a cunt of a father who thinks dick in arse is a disease, I got raped trying to just be who I really am, and then I tried to off myself and fucking failed at that too." He stopped again and pointed at her. "You know what? Fuck you. Fuck everything. I'll end it myself and I'll get it fucking right this time," he said and turned to stalk away from her.