Charlie likes discipline.
Charlie likes good behavior and proper conduct. He wasn't exactly an ideal role model before, so now Charlie tries to make up for it. He makes sure nothing is in disarray and everyone is where they're supposed to be. He meticulously straightens out every minute detail of every little thing. You can go so far as to call Charlie a perfectionist. Maybe he is.
Because of this, Charlie despises messes. He loathes anything that can prove to be a nuisance, or can create unnecessarily loud noises and unfortunately for Charlie, the two usually came hand-in-hand.
But Charlie had discovered a way to end all that. And Charlie uses this method quite often.
In a fit of anger, Charlie had once lifted a boy up by the neck, cutting off any chance of oxygen flow to his lungs. The boy had knocked over a nearby trashcan. The contents spilled, not only on the sidewalk, but on Charlie's precious white shoes. If only the boy had just behaved, if only he had refrained from running carelessly, then Charlie wouldn't have gotten so furious. Charlie tried to tell him that, that this whole ordeal could have been avoided if he had just behaved. But the boy didn't seem to be listening. He kept on clawing on Charlie's large, callous hand, which only succeeded in making Charlie angrier. So Charlie gripped tighter, the veins in his athletic arm bulging as he yelled at the boy now, telling him to listen- suddenly, the boy went limp in his arms.
Charlie stopped yelling.
Can you hear that?
Nothing. There was nothing.
Silence. Delicious silence.
Why hadn't he thought of this before?
As Charlie's long fingers dug into skin, pressing tighter against each vein, each muscle on the girl's neck, Charlie waited patiently, an excited smile on his lips. The girl's face was slowly turning pale, a hollow look in her blue eyes. The muffled screams caught in her throat died down just as her eyes rolled back.
Charlie grinned proudly.
After all, Charlie just likes discipline.