Tim refused to get out of bed. No matter how many times his parents banged on his door or threatened to throw him out, he would never go back.
He closed his eyes against their latest round of fists on his door. They didn’t understand. No one could. He tried to explain it to them, but they pish-pahed him and claimed it would get better.
Yeah, like that would happen.
His thoughts went to his students and how his refusal to go back meant they’d have a new teacher. His sympathy ended with the memory of paint and a squirrel.