Stuck that way furever. [Wolf]

As the door closed, Tyson finally let himself go to pieces, letting his breath become labored and filled with painful whines. He couldn't cry, at least not like a human, but his body was capable of expressing it's pain in other forms. He could hear people outside his door, smell the students who were still outside talking about what they thought had happened. Right now he didn't care, the voices blurred together. He just whined and sobbed on the floor, headless of the glass shards.

He would remain there for some time, his mood shifting between the overwhelming sense of loss and anger. Overtime he lost consciousness, only to wake again in a new fit of sobs and whines. He continued flitting between for hours, unmoving from his spot. Eventually though he pulled himself up, brushing the broken glass from his skin. By now it was late night, the students had long since lost interest in guessing what was going on in there. Tyson didn't bother going for the light. He didn't need it. Instead he went to his closet, pulled out his bag, containing the few possessions he had. He opened it and searched for the small album, pulling it out and opening it. He looked at the pictures of him and his mom, a small scarp book of memories. He took out the first picture, a younger human version of himself smiling back. He then tore it in half, discarding it to the floor, before reaching for the next and following suit. Soon the album was empty, a pile of scraps on the floor all that was left of his human life.