"—Shit!"
In a surge of anger, the ashtray flew straight towards the screen.
The giant LCD screen cracked on impact, webbed with spider-like fractures. Half of the screen went dark, signal lost in a pitch blackness, while the other part became a twisted mass of painful colors.
Now, Mark's eyes were bloodshot.
He had just finished cursing when he clutched his forehead tightly.
No sooner had he spoken than he felt his blood vessels continuously swelling, trembling. Shouting out made it feel as if he had punched himself hard in the head, slightly blurring his vision, leaving him gasping for breath.
The blood vessels under his scalp were violently, rapidly throbbing... to the extent that he could easily "hear" the heavy thumping of his veins with his ears. A slight shake of his head made it feel as if a heavy iron ball was swinging inside his brain.
Mark hadn't slept well for three whole days.
