Watchtower

Anger

Joyce Knightly: February 22nd,20XX

There weren’t any words in existence that could express how angry I was at the moment, but I could think of a few that came close. But no, anger was not the right word to capture the emotion I currently felt. Fury, rage, murderous?

I rotated my entire lexicon through my head as I drove, and Destia silently used my phone to call Aaron repeatedly.

“He’s not picking up.”

“Just keep calling.”

She flinched in response to my harsh tone, and I tried my best to calm down and assure her she wasn’t the recipient of my anger. We’d started off on entirely the wrong foot, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t grow closer.

Now that the imminent sense of panic I’d felt at the police station had faded, I remembered she was only eighteen. More so, she was an eighteen-yea