Shrimpo_

Shrimpo lay on his side, his cheek pressed against the worn pillow, his arms crossed as if suppressing the urge to punch something. His gaze pierced the dimly lit room. The warm glow of the sunset did nothing to soften his expression—it only angered him further.

Shrimpo let out a low growl, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "Tch... bunch of idiots... loud, annoying, useless..." He clenched his jaw, digging his fingers into the fabric of his pillow. His face burned, but he ignored it.

His thoughts kept returning to the events of the day, to the way those stupid cartoons looked at him—as if he were inferior to them. As if he wasn't strong enough. As if he didn't care. His lip curled in disgust. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.

Shrimpo sat up abruptly, frowning at nothing. "I should have let them get caught. I should have left them. Maybe then they would have realized how pathetic they were." He snorted, burying his face in the pillow again, his voice muffled but still venomous.

"Bunch of fucking pests... I hope they choke on their own crap."

Despite his words, despite the anger boiling in his chest, he couldn't shake the feeling that tormented him. The feeling that made him sick, the feeling that made his throat tighten.

…He hated it. Almost as much as he hated them.

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🍤💢