Snippet #1024283

He kept his eyes downcast under his long and somewhat untamed light brown hair. His hands were clasped tightly together in his lap and he could feel beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. The machine was slowly making its way around the circle and the closer it got to asking him a question the more nervous he became. Thoughts in his mind were jumbled and mixed up due to the lack of concentration he could give them. Ashton wasn't stupid, he was very smart; almost too smart for even him to comprehend. It was just organization of those thoughts and facts that he lacked. In his own mind his answers were perfect but once he had to speak them they became confusing and cut. His medication was the only way for him to solve it; but he didn't want to depend on them. Finally the machine turned to him and pelted him with a question about how he'd felt when he'd punched a kid the day before. Ashton twitched a little and hunched in on himself more. He'd felt angry and pissed and violent and wanted to shut the kid up. He muttered a stammered version of this and relaxed a little in relief as the machine moved on.