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It’s terrifying. How Shinichi finally understood.
Sitting in the bathtub, legs stretched, the water almost drowning his tiny body because whatever stamina he had built up from his healthy lifestyle as a soccer player and less than healthy lifestyle as a detective escaped him the moment he succeeded to get Agasa to believe that he was who he said he was. That he was the professor’s neighbor – the boy whom the professor had seen grow up. That he was almost murdered and the police had probably concluded he was either dead due to the amount of blood that had gushed out of his head wound or missing due to how there was no body but his clothes and possessions.
Shinichi sat quietly in the tub. He stared at his reflection. The face that should have only existed in picture albums instead of… Not an hour ago he was… tall. An adult. Now…
He understood now, when people said that their life had fallen apart. That their entire life was stolen. Shinichi wasn’t quite numb, no, he was trying to sort out this feeling of—of anger and hate that were just washing over his head and making the thought of committing some form of violence to be tempting. No wonder people could kill. No wonder he never understood before. There was no logic. There’s no cold logic when it comes to this emotion. They can barely control themselves, not when they’re this—this angry.
It felt like petrol. Gasoline sliding down his throat and it took every bit of his iron self-control to not break something perishable.