The next one

Once again he found himself sat, staring. 

"Wouldn't it be great if someone caught his eye" he thought,

That would give him the opportunity, excuse, the reason to do what he did best, out and out destruction. 

But until then he would sit just waiting to erupt, like a dormant volcano, sat, still, convincing all of those around him that there was nothing to worry about, that all was well. But it wasn't,no,  he wasn't well.

They said that the last episode was an attempt to make right the death of his father. What did they know? He would never make that right, that would remain a fact regardless of how many times he sought redemption.

Out of nowhere, she smiled, she even seemed to mouth the word hello, but by then the opportunity had passed. He'd missed it, and now his frustration turned inward. As good as he was with his fists, he managed to beat himself up without leaving any obvious marks or bruises. But then the deepest wounds were not always visible.

She'd escaped, and she didn't even realise. She was lucky, fate had patted her on the back before she walked on by. Gone, she had to be forgotten.

The next one, the next one, they wouldn't, they'd be lucky to remember the day, let alone the incident, the attack, he chuckled, half coughing on last night's cigarettes, half tasty the adrenaline.

The next one, there was always the next one.