Jasper’s POV.
I held my phone to my lips for moments after Julia Berger ended the call. My mind was running on several hundred miles per hour as I tried to process the rage I felt inside. It consumed me with the fury of a wildfire. I picked up the now empty cup of coffee I’d been drinking earlier and squeezed the cup as though I could make the ceramic cave in from the pressure of my hands. Suddenly, I let out a loud roar and flung the cup at the television screen. There was a black ink-like mark on the point of impact and the television screen was filled with a million little lines of different colors— in essence, it was broken.
Clinton remained by the sides as usual, silent but vigilant.
“I’ll go for my physiotherapy session which ever way,” I said with a calmness that surprised even m
