Excerpt: Fulcrum

It was his thirty first birthday party, and Byron stared at his friends as they had more fun than he did at the event. Three old college buddies stood to the side, chatting with his little sister, Amy. Though it would be hard to call her little any more. The girl he had known for most of his life was in many regards more successful than he himself, but that didn't prevent Byron from being proud of her. For some reason he had always known that she would outshine him one day, and the fact that it had happened while Byron had toiled away not knowing what to do with his life was little cause for jealousy.

Byron looked down into his mug. Due to the small nature of the birthday party, there wasn't really any alcohol or other items that some celebrated their birthday parties with, and that fit Byron's mood fairly well. Some times he didn't exactly fit in with what the rest of society did or said. So for now, he settled for a mug of hot chocolate. The warm drink was made even better due to the fact that snow falling outside and the open door that let the breeze in to meet the warm air from the house. It was at that small junction of hot and cold that Byron waited.

Two other friends had indeed brought their own alcohol, and they were in the process of consuming it like it was the last possible thing they would ever have in this life time. Byron had been like them once, but not for some time. For now, hot chocolate was all he needed.

One last friend from his college days was at his party.

"How you doing Byron?"

Eric had known Byron the longest, and of all his friends, Eric was also the one that Byron probably got along the least with. It wasn't that Eric was bad person, but it was more that Eric was the person that Byron disagreed the most with philosophically. Eric had an attitude that was extremely cut throat. In his opinion, if people were to fail at something, then they deserved to never get a second chance. By those terms, Byron himself didn't deserve another chance for a great many things.

"I'm a little older, Eric. Just a little older." Eric smiled briefly, glanced at the snow that Byron was watching and laughed.

"Aren't you a little young to be wistful? I thought that was what all the old people did." For a while, Byron didn't answer him, then nodded.

"Perhaps I'm just getting a little too old then. It is, after all, my birthday. That is what happens after all." Instead of ridiculing his answer or doing anything that Byron would normally expect from his friend, Eric stayed quiet. then he stepped away. When he returned, he brought with him a small package.

"Since you're so insistent on getting old and dying, I figured I might as well give you my present as soon as possible. I'm not sure when the old man in you arrived, but perhaps I've got something that can help you out with that." Byron looked down at the small gift, not sure what Eric was up to, but thanked his old buddy anyway. Part of the way that Eric talked unnerved Byron some, but that was a forgivable considering that Eric unnerved him a lot, and it almost never amounted to anything serious. Eric was just a little different. "I was thinking about how successful your sister had become, and how much you must hate her for it, so I figured this would be a good gift an old bastard like you."

Byron ran his hands over the packaging. Eric was so simplistic at times, that Byron was surprised his old friend had even wrapped the thing, but then again if Eric had determined that it fit his mood, he would do whatever the hell he wanted. Byron remembered a time when they were growing up together that Eric had gone down the entire block and demolished everyone's mailbox simply because the regular mailman had pissed him off. It wasn't aimed at the neighbors, but Eric hadn't cared who paid the consequences for his actions. Only the fact that he had forced Byron not to say a word to anyone with threats about Amy had kept Byron from saying anything to an adult at the time. Now that he thought about it, their friendship had always been an abusive relationship, but it was also one that was so old and ingrained, he couldn't get rid of Eric. And that made Byron dread the present he was about to unwrap all the more.

Pushing his doubts to the side for a moment, Byron carefully lifted the tape on the package, and undid the wrapping. Despite the fact that Eric was not the easiest person to get along with, he was still a very meticulous person, and as each fold of paper fell away from the package, Byron could recognize his handiwork when it came to the gift wrapping. With the box uncovered, he opened it and stared at what was held within.

Eric had given him a rock. Or more specifically, some sort of stone. It was slate in color but unlike any other stone that Byron had ever seen, it was cut, like a gemstone. Why on earth had anyone seen the need to shape a stone? More specifically, what was the stone made out of? Most rocks flaked or shattered. They didn't shape like a gemstone. To get the rock to form such a shape had taken not only patience but a tool that Byron wasn't familiar with.

Byron picked up the stone, and was surprised to feel how cold and smooth it was. Not only did it look like a gemstone, it felt like one as well. It didn't have the grainy or dusty feel a rock had. Instead it felt as if a warm rain had washed it of all those properties, and it was in fact, truly the precious jewel it pretended to be. Byron held it a few moments before looking back up into Eric's eyes. The other man had a small smile on his face, and his eyes twinkled a little bit. It made Byron felt as if the man was up to nothing but mischief

"What is it?" Byron's voice cracked a little as he spoke, a sign of how unsure of the gift he really was.

"I could just let you try to figure it out on your own, you know?" Byron tried to hold down the desire to suddenly strangle his friend, but apparently part of his intent must of shown through, because it wasn't long before Eric burst out laughing. "Alright, don't hurt me! It's not that big of a deal."

Eric walked out the small door to the patio, and the small began to hit him, light flakes that floated, so gracefully that it seemed odd that they allowed themselves touch Eric. "I was in Florida last month. You know those stories about the fountain of youth and how it was always supposed to be down in those forsaken Everglades they have? Well I was at a small shop that played up on the old story. I saw the rock, and for some reason, it very much reminded me of you. And since I figured I needed to get you a gift for your birthday anyway, I figured I might as well get you something as hoke as you are. Seemed like a perfect fit."

For the first time in their conversation, Byron felt relief. It was a stupid gag. "Thanks a lot. I guess I should have known better than to expect a serious gift out of you." Byron began to laugh, and he walked outside to join what was perhaps his oldest friend. Yet even now, Eric didn't join his laughter.

"What is it Eric?" For the first time in a long time, Eric's faced wrinkled a bit, and Byron suspected he witnessed some concern behind his eyes.

"I don't want you to think I'm crazy or anything." Byron couldn't control the sudden snort of laughter.

"It's way too late for that, I'm afraid. I've always known that you were crazy. Hell, I must be as crazy as you are, after all. I mean I'm your friend. That alone takes a special brand of person that I sincerely doubt most people would be able to be." Eric walked over to the balcony of the small patio they were on. He brushed away some of the snow there, and leaned on to it, not caring about either the wet or cold.

"Thanks a lot, Ron. I really mean that. After all, you're right, not many people are willing to put up with me. I've never really supported you too much, but for the sake of both of our sanities, I have to acknowledge that whatever friendship we've had has always benefited me a lot more than it has ever benefited you." Eric paused for a while and he seemed to be more at peace standing in the snow and the dark of night than Byron had seen him in a long time.

"Be careful with that gift, Ron. I mean it. It's kind of dangerous." That perked Byron's curiosity for two separate reasons.

"OK I'll pretend to not think you're crazy for considering a rock dangerous, and even if it was, why the hell would you be giving to me in the first place?" Eric didn't respond for a minute.

"I'd like to be able to give you a straightforward answer for once. For one, I'd at least know that I'm not crazy myself, or that I'd actually understand what on earth is going on in my head. But as far as the second reason, it's easy. I got it for you, and the simple matter is that I trust you a heck of a lot more than I trust myself with with it."

Byron looked down once more at the stone in the box, trying to figure out what had spooked Eric so much about it. It was just a simple stone. Perhaps it was radioactive and it was messing with the mind of someone who was already somewhat psychotic? He didn't know, and he wondered if there was someway to get it tested. After all, if it was radioactive, he sure as hell didn't want it around him. While he was pondering what to do with the small piece of rock, Eric spoke up.

"That thing changes things. I swear it does, and if you don't believe me now, you will before too long."

"What do you mean, changes things?" Eric shook his head. Then a little more light heartedly, he spoke again. "Man, you are so full of shit."

"Look, I'm going home. I gave you the bloody thing, and I'll be honest I kind of wish I hadn't. But I don't know what else to do with it, so it's yours now. Just be careful with it. You got it?" Eric took that moment to step back a bit, then using the railing as leverage, he vaulted himself over and dropped a few feet to the ground below. It was a cold night, and Eric wasn't wearing a coat, but he seemed to be insistent on going. Concern about his health sprung to Byron's mind, but he let it go. Eric was Eric. Sometimes understanding him took someone with a lot better knowledge of people that he himself had. As it was, he simply watched as his friend trudged slowly away. It was log before he was enveloped in white darkness of a snow night, and all Byron could hear was the soft crunch of compacting snow created with each step.

"Yeah Eric. I got it. I'll be careful." It was a bare whisper, and there would be no way that Eric could possibly here the response, but Byron felt compelled to acknowledge his friend's warning. Even if no one would ever know he had done it but himself. Byron waited a few minutes, then walked back inside to the warmth that he hadn't realized he had been missing.

The heat flared up around him, and Byron suddenly cursed himself for even keeping the door open. But then again, with all the people at the party, a cool breeze was something all the warm bodies in the house needed. It was really quite hot in the house, and that initial heat had prompted the move. Now as he moved into a full contrast from cold to hot, he felt a sudden sick feeling sweep over him. The temperature change seemed to bring on a full headache. Taking one last moment to stare back out at the direction his departing friend had gone, he placed the lid back on the box, covering the stone.

Perhaps Eric had gotten into some bad drugs or something? Why else would he think a stone was dangerous? Byron guess that you could throw it at someone and hurt them or something. And Byron guessed that he was more likely to be more trustworthy about not doing something like that than Eric was. Yet, however he looked at it, his friend was approaching the brink of insane. Byron once again tried to clear his thoughts. He had said earlier that he wouldn't think of Eric as crazy. And despite everything else, he knew that Eric wouldn't be on any drugs. After all, the man believed that drugs were nature's way of weeding out the unworthy and unfit to survive. If Eric had his way, he would deny medical treatment to anyone stupid enough to get addicted to drugs. So there was very little chance that he himself was on drugs.

Which still meant that Byron had no idea what on earth could be the cause for his friends instability. Byron quickly amended that thought to 'further instability'. Not ready to give the thought more consideration, he slid the patio door shut and went to join his sister and friends. On his way to join them he looked once more at the box that contained his strange gift, and then set it on the kitchen table with an assortment of other gifts he had already opened.

Byron walked further indoors to finally talk to the others there.

Amy saw him and smiled. She walked over to him. "How you doing, Byron? Feel like an old man yet?" Byron laughed.

"You've always made me feel like an old man, sis. If I started now, I wouldn't be taking into account how well you've done for yourself." Amy smiled briefly before shaking her head.

"You shouldn't talk like that. You're going to be successful, you know? I was so proud of you when you decided to go back to school and get your degree. After all, I always knew that you could do it and that you were always smarter than me." She swept him up into a hug. "I always thought you were going to conquer the world, you know?"

"Thanks Amy. That means a lot to me to hear you say that. But I've always known you would do well for yourself. And I'm glad I was able to do what I did as well. Though to be honest, you're way off on the statement that I'm smarter than you. After all, you were successful where I wasn't. How mom and dad must have thought of me when I was young, I just can't help but feel I've disappointed them. And I truly can't even hold a candle to you." Byron smiled. Still, it's good to hear you say that. So what's been going on in hear since I've been talking to Eric? Have you been the life of the party or not?"

Amy laughed. "I'm always the life of the party! It's what I do best. Unlike like some family members here." At that, Amy jabbed him in the upper arm.

"Ow! Watch it killer! I've got a very sensitive upper body. You could do some real damage there." Amy stuck out her tongue at him.

"In all seriousness Byron. It's good to see you lighten up a bit."

"Hey, I'm always lightened up. I'm a very non serious kind of person."

"Which is why for the past two hours you've been staring into a mug of hot cocoa. And then for the last ten minutes, talking with Eric." She paused a second and looked around. "Where is he anyway? You know I'm not his biggest fan, but even I didn't think he'd just abandon you halfway through a party."

"Hey, leave Eric alone. He's still a good friend." Amy snorted at that.

"If that's what you call a good friend, I'd hate to see a bad friend. Seriously, I know you've known him since we were kids, but the stuff he says and does. I don't see how you put up with it."

"Amy..." There was a little edge to his voice, and Byron knew that he had let a little extra emotion into his voice.

"I know, I know." She didn't look repentant, but Byron let his feeling of protectiveness wash away. He wasn't going to alienate his sister over something like that. Besides, there were times when he felt exactly like her, and he didn't want to turn it into a bigger point than it already was.

Suddenly a couple of hands grabbed him by the shoulders. "Byron! There's the birthday boy! What the hell you doing over here? We've got some beer man!"

Byron recognized Terry's voice distinctly, despite the fact that it was slurred due to alcohol. There had been a reason Byron had stayed away from alcohol, and Terry should have known better. But Byron didn't blame his friend. He was drunk. Amy, however didn't care for the comment.

"You idiot! I should have thrown you out the moment you showed up with beer in the first place! You know Byron's been sober for four years now!"

"Easy, sis. It's okay. I can handle him." Amy's anger turned briefly to Byron.

"No, it is not okay. Damn it Byron! But you've really got some idiot friends. Now this fuckwad wants to get you drunk after everything you've been through?" Amy turned to Terry.

"You! Get the fuck out of here. Get the fuck out now. I don't want to hear excuses. You have to go." Terry, no matter how drunk he was, was still cognizant enough to recognize what Amy was saying to him.

"Shut it bitch. I don't have to listen to you. It isn't your party, cunt. It's his, and he's too chicken shit to do anything about it."

"And it's my god-damned house!" Amy leapt forth at Terry, Byron was barely quick enough to impose himself between the two. As it was, he could barely keep her from scratching at Terry's face.

"You god-damned whore! Who the fuck do you think you are?" The situation was quickly devolving into one that was the type that Byron liked to avoid at all costs. But this was one time when he wouldn't allow himself to disappear due to a confrontation. Not when his sister was involved.

"Stop it you two! Please stop it?" Byron felt like he was a toy being fought over. His sister was scrambling around, trying to tear out Terry's eyes, and Terry was mostly just cursing his sister and calling her names. Never mind that stuck in the middle was one birthday boy who wanted nothing of the like to happen.

They had attracted a bit of attention, and fortunately a couple of his other friends had grabbed Terry and were pulling him back. Terry, too drunk to know how to fight back at the moment, struggled and squirmed and settled for continuing to yell at Amy. Now that he wasn't trying to hold both back from each other, he grabbed Amy and was actually able to keep her under control. Well, her movements anyway. He couldn't control her mouth.

"Get him the fuck out of here! Throw him out of the house. Party's over!" Byron, not caring anymore at that point merely nodded along with what she was saying. The rest of his friends pulled Terry to the door, and soon the yelling died down after Terry and Amy were separated.

The whole commotion vastly changed everyone's mood, and they took Amy's words to heart. No one really wanted to hang out anymore and the began to slowly file out of the house.

For her part, Amy finally settled down, and he let her go. Amy spun on him and tore away from him so that she had a little space.

"Amy."

"Don't you dare, Byron. Don't you dare defend him." Byron shook his head.

"I wasn't going to defend him. I just wanted to make sure that you were all right." Amy released a sigh and sat down in a nearby chair.

"I'm fine Byron. I just want to know why you don't stand up for yourself a little better. I mean, he wanted to get you drunk!"

"I wasn't going to drink any. I'm not like that any more."

"For now!" His sister had snapped her head towards him, and she was now glaring at Byron. "One day, if you keep hanging around with Terry, he's going to make the offer because he doesn't care about you being a recovering alcoholic. All he cares about is getting drunk. He's going to make that offer, and one day, you're going to do it. I'm not going to go through that again Byron. Not again."

"I won't do that to you again, sis." Amy put her hand to her brow and rubbed at her tear ducts.

"I'm just worried about you Byron. I don't want to have you disappear for a year again and not know if you're alive or dead. I don't want to get that call from the hospital again telling me that you've overdosed on something. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? Finally knowing whether you are still alive or not, but not knowing if I still might lose you just when you're found again?" Amy stood and went into the kitchen. Byron heard the kitchen water get turned on, and it ran briefly before he followed Amy into the Kitchen.

She had started gathering up the food and drinks that had been set out for the party. She found some beer left in the fridge by someone else, and she promptly took it out and poured it down the sink. After she had cleared a lot of the food away she started piling the dishes into the sink to start on them. Byron sat down at the kitchen table and rifled through some of the gifts he hadn't opened yet. He tore into one, not caring anymore about taking the time to preserve the wrapping paper. He was pleased to find a music album he had been wanting for a little while, and he turned to the rest of his gifts.

Other than the CD, there really wasn't anything of too great of note. Mostly they were knick-knacks and other assorted junk. Then again, he really hadn't expected anything much. Most of his college or high school buddies that had shown up weren't exactly the most giving of people. Some of them really hadn't hung out with for years. Even then, they were the same kind of people he had hung out with when he had almost screwed up his life for good. A few people from work had come, but he had told them not to bring any gifts. He didn't want them to feel obligated to give him anything, especially since he really hadn't known them for long.

The best gift had of course been from Amy. A video that she had gotten some of her coworkers at the news station to cut together. It was full of embarrassing childhood memories of course, but it also showed some of the happiest days of his life. Perhaps most importantly, it had their parents in it, and the brief bit of it he had watched earlier had reminded him how much he had missed the voices of his parents.

Byron picked up the small box that Eric had given him earlier. After what had happened earlier between Terry and Amy, it felt surprisingly normal.

He opened it, and for the first time since he had received it, picked up the small stone and really looked at it. He had held it briefly earlier, but really hadn't taken notice of just what exactly it was like.

"Found it in Florida, of all places. Eric's so full of shit. He probably saw it by the side of the road one day and picked it up thinking I'd want it." Byron briefly wondered what the true story of the piece of stone was. Everything had its own piece of history. Perhaps this small stone had as shattering of a past as his very own.

"What was that Byron?" Amy had looked up from her cleaning to see what he was mumbling to himself about.

"Nothing sis. I was just thinking about something Eric said."

Content with his response, she went back to her cleaning.

Perhaps Eric had been telling the truth and he had picked it up in some off beat gift shop, a souvenir some aspiring entrepreneur had thought up to sucker in the witless and the spendthrifts. Which was funny, because Byron had never considered Eric to be either of those things. If anything, the one attribute that his old friend that could explain such a purchase was his impulsiveness. Not that Eric was an impulsive buyer. He was actually very frugal with his money. But Eric was highly impulsive when it came to his decisions. Once he decided on something, he never looked back.

Byron could very well see Eric standing around thinking about things and then suddenly deciding that he needed to get a birthday gift from the very store he was in.

Byron, satisfied for the moment, put the stone back in the box and carried it up stairs. He wasn't too sure why that one gift out of all of them preoccupied his mind so much. Well, other than the fact that Eric had been acting strange over it. Whatever else was true about it, Eric was certainly onto something about it acting as a gift. It was surprisingly intriguing. The slate colored piece almost entranced a person with it's appearance. Byron briefly wondered if it was somehow related to either hematite or obsidian. It didn't feel quite right, but that would give it the almost gemstone finish it had.

He carried the gift to his sister's guest room where he she had so kindly commanded him to stay at while he was in town. It was a far cry from the half trashed apartment building he had been habitating for the two years it had taken him to finish his degree. So far he had been there for almost six months and his degree had amounted to countless job interviews and no better job than working as a cashier at a nearby grocery store that he had only gotten because he had worked in the same chain when he was at school. So far it had seemed that his degree hadn't amounted to much more than pride.

Yet... it was somehow better than what he had before.

Byron tossed the package onto his nightstand next to his clock, then collapsed onto the bed. His giant flop caused the mattress to bounce a little while his weight settled in. He rolled over to look at the clock. Nine in the evening. The party really had been cut short by Terry. It was a shame, because he really did want everyone to get along. It was sort of hard for him to understand. It always seemed so much easier to get along with people than to dislike them.

Byron relaxed into the pillows on the bed. They were big and fluffy, with lacy pillow cases. They weren't exactly his style, but his sister was the one who had decorated the room. And since she was letting him stay for free, he really wasn't going to stir up any trouble for her.

Thirty-one. He was getting older all the time, and so far he had experienced a fraction of the success his younger sister had. It was amazing what five years of difference could do. So much younger than him, and yet so much more successful.

A gift for an old bastard that must hate how much more successful his sister was. Weren't those Eric's words? His words were usually harsher sounding than he actually meant them, but why would he think Byron could ever hate his sister?

He reached out and grabbed the rock, squeezing it in his fist. What was Eric trying to say? Was he in trouble somehow? Tomorrow. He'd figure it out in the morning.

As his brain drifted off, he began to imagine a dream. Still half awake, the dream didn't make much sense, but it was somewhat enjoyable. Byron was sitting on the beach, staring at the waves as they trickled in and out. The beach was slate grey, and the sun was a little cold for as high in the sky it was, but it was really quite beautiful against a white skyscape.

He was about to fall into a complete sleep when he heard a scream. It jolted him upwards in bed, and the stone fell from his hand. Was that part of his dream?

Another scream told him that it wasn't, and the sound was coming from outside.

He jumped out his bed and bounded for the front door to figure out what was going on.

The snow was falling, and his visibility was fairly low. But he saw that the trash cans were knocked over.

A shout for help reached his ears, and this time Byron clearly recognized Amy's voice. He began to run towards the sound.

Had someone grabbed her when she had taken the trash out? Who would do that? Why?

The answers that immediately came to mind were not good, and he began to run harder than he ever had in his life.

When he finally reached her, he almost wished he hadn't.

The person who had grabbed her was Terry, and the bastard was trying to rape her. Terry was bloody from where Amy had scratched and fought him, but his absolute strength had been enough to overpower her determination to get free.

Byron was frozen still at the sight and sound. Now that he could see what was happening, he froze. There was Amy, half naked and so very scared. Screaming. He heard her screaming so loud that it overpowered everything else he was felt at that moment. She was trying to get away, and a part of his heart raced out to try to comfort her and to take away the pain, but her fear was absolute and her pain beyond reach. He couldn't reach her. It was as if his body was locked behind a large gate, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out to her and take that first step. So all he could do was radiate a mixture of rage and love.

Amy screamed once more.

Something in him changed.

He took a step forward, and then another. Soon he was at a dead run, trying to take out every bit on anger on those around him? How could others let Amy get raped? How could they let such a wonderful human being be violated? Yet beyond that, there was rage. She was his little sister. She was his to protect. No one should have hurt her and he felt guilt that he had ever let anyone get to her like had happened.

Terry was an absolute bastard. Part of him thought that he could have understood if it had been Eric to do what had happened, but in ways that he had never understood, he had trusted Terry. And that violation of a trust had made it seem to Byron that he should never have trusted anyone. How could he have done that to his little sister?

Byron took anther bound as he ran to his sister's side. He would change it. He would make it all better by changing it all. His sister would never feel pain again. She would always be safe and not know fear. Terry would hurt. He would make the pain that Amy felt now last an eternity and in the end he would make it so that Terry never felt good again. He would rip out that bastards heart and feed it to the dogs.

With a final bound Byron tackled Terry, and pulled the bastard off of his sister. He didn't remember the first punch, but he did feel the blood that coated his fist and the sound of the satisfying crunch of a broken nose. How could that not be good? He threw Terry off into the snow and let out ever bit of emotion. Each time he drew back his hands, a blow fell. And he drew back his hands more than he could possibly remember. The bastard.

That one thought was all he could feel. The bastard. It's all he could conceivably call Terry. He was no longer a friend. Just an asshole and a jerk who didn't deserve to live. Amy was too precious to be submitted to his presence. How had Terry ever become his friend in the first place? That was the kind of thing that could only happen to bad people, wasn't it? To befriend a rapist? Only bad people did that, didn't they? Was Byron himself a bad person? To have brought his sister into contact with the scum of the caliber of Terry's?

So much of the back of his mind told him this. He felt so much guilt and he just wanted it to stop. He told him self that he wouldn't ever feel guilt again. Then once more something changed. He suddenly felt a glee with each punch, and Terry no longer seemed human. Just a puppet or a doll that could be taken to hell. A doll full of straw and fake blood that exploded with each blow. That had paint sprayed on it to make it look like bruises. The thing below him wasn't human, and there was no way for him to feel even remotely guilty about beating it. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't even feel pity for destroying something that could harm something so wondrous as his own sister.

For a brief instant, he heard was a quiet voice. "I told you, you fool. I told you to be careful. I told you that it changes things." But at that moment, Byron didn't care anymore. Eric wasn't here, and he couldn't actually be saying what he thought he was hearing. All he cared now was that someone he had considered a friend for several years had hurt his little sister. Had hurt her beyond anything he had ever believed would happen to her. He wanted Terry dead. He wanted that bastard to go to hell, and right now there was very little that could stop him from sending the bastard directly there. Though hopefully the dirty asshole wouldn't take a direct journey there.

Byron wished for his old friend to feel nothing but pain. He desired that Terry would suffer for many years and that he would not only never be able to rape anyone again, but would never feel pleasure himself. That Terry would become someone's prison bitch and be raped in turn. Byron hated him and felt more anger than he had ever experienced, and part of it was enlightening. As Byron took another chance to punch the jerk below him, he suddenly realized what could bring other people to kill. He knew why others turned to revenge when their loved ones were wounded and in pain. He also knew why some people would start a war. He could do it right now. He could make war on this asshole and everyone associated with him. He'd hunt down Terry's loved ones and see how he felt about it.

If blood begets blood, then Byron was ready to turn the entire world into nothing but blood and smoke. That would take a little while.

For now, he would settle for murdering Terry.