Something clenches tightly in their chest, and their shoulders inch up a little higher, their expression screwing up into something--they're not sure if they want to cry or punch Tim right in the face.

"Only 'cuz I'm trying. You know how much I hurt people at home? How scared Mom was of me?" Why else would they have been taunted and mocked by their classmates, have fought and bitten and cursed as a matter of course rather than a last resort? "I--I almost killed someone, you know that? They had to pull me offa him before I cut his--his stupid ugly throat!"

They're shouting now, the aura of warped space around them curdling into colors that defy description. They grit their teeth, digging their nails into their arms just to keep from making yet another stupid mistake. Tears streak down their face, and their voice cracks with raw grief and loathing. "He was the one with the knife, and I still would have got him! I-I didn't need anything!"