Short story #3

This agony vexed him in a way that defied reason. The pounding in his skull was louder than tribal nations heading to war; stronger than a legion of men pulling against an enemy's gate. He knew he couldn't last much longer. Every moment his rage increased, only adding to the pressure in his skull. Even the slightest noise or flash of light sliced into his very being. A pen dropped. Screaming bloody murder he rose like a tidal wave, kicking away his desk, clutching desperately to his head. Wind and arms lashed out, roars of thunder and human agony, the body of man and water crashing through the class. Destruction in the hurricanes path, He made his way out of the class. Seeking shelter he belted to the bathroom. Weeping quietly in the farthest corner of the farthest stall, hands clutching his skull as is it'll explode any minute he slowly bounces his head on the wall trying to relieve pressure. Right as it reached a point of tears, the bell rang. He opened his eyes, startled, grabbed his things then headed to his next class.