I'm not sure if you already explained this in the same story, but I'm curious, what exactly happened to Donald the day of the barn incident? (I mean what broke him mentally, I know exactly what happened, but what was the cause)
Funny enough, this was one of the few times where there wasnt a catalyst that brought the event on.
Sometimes, the bad brain juice just starts pumping for no reason, and that day, there wasn't anything to smooth out the creases in Donald's anxiety filled mind.
You could probably make the excuse that it was a bunch of little things that piled up in Donald's head, that caused him to have the meltdown he did.
The bad dream of his parents car accident the night before. The rip in his good shirt. The failed English test at school. The rainy weather. There could have been any number of reasons that added up to a mental load that Donald could no longer carry.
But sometimes, the self hate and heavy thoughts are just an arm length away, always there, without Donald having to reach far for it. And sometimes you just wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and those mean little voices that Donald tries so hard to ignore and push down every day seem a little bit more resilient than usual, and Donalds tired, so he doesn't fight them as hard as he should. So they linger, and protrude and poke and point out every flaw they can throughout the day.
Like how he isnt good enough. How he'll never be good enough. He can't live up to his parents expectations. He can't Lookout for his sister and cousins the way he should. Hes not useful or needed or wanted and hes just a big burden thats in the way.
And oh God, how hes just so, so angry, all the time. No normal person can ever be this angry right? Any what does he even have to be angry about anyway? Hes got a roof over his head, food on the table, a shirt on his back and probably the best family and friends someone like him could ever ask for so why... why does his heart race like this? Why does his hands shake, and his vision go red and his chest hurt like he'll never be able to breathe normally again?
Most the time, he can ignore it. Most the time, he can distract himself with Della's antics and Gladstone's prodding and Fethry's endless knock-knock jokes and most the time he can just let himself be buoyed along with their shenanigans and joy. Let himself be distracted from the rage thats always half cooked in the boiling pot that is his chest and ignore the mean voices in his head and forget that self hating little conga line thats on constant repeat in his heart.
But Della had stayed after school to work on a history project with a friend, and Gladstone said that he had a date to get to, and Fethry said that one of the barn cats gave birth the other day, so he wanted to hang around the kittens and take care of the mama a bit before the storm hit, and suddenly all the mean thoughts felt louder when he was left alone.
Felt louder when he actually had the time and quiet to be able to hear them.
And sometimes the rage is mind numbing, Donald often finding gaps in his memory after certain fits reach a point that his sanity can no longer account for his he just... he blanks. He blacks out and usually comes to with someone cooing soft words of reassurance to him, to relax him, to pull him back from that dark curtain blanketed over his rationality.
But sometimes... sometimes Donald is present. He's fully aware of the red blurring into his vision, of the dark cloud forming over his head. And he has to make the conscious decision that whatever it is thats about to happen, he has to be somewhere where his cousins won't easily walk in on him and somehow get caught in the crossfire.
He thinks, if he had to explain it, that it works like how a panic attack comes on. Most of the time, its just something random, something you wouldn't even think of as triggering at first, that sets it off. But once it starts, you have about a minute to compartmentalize that
1) you're having a panic attack.
2) its probably gonna be bad, so sit down in a place that you can be safe for awhile while you break down
3) if you can, let people that you trust know that you're having a panic attack and go from there
Donald can feel the anger come on like a curtain slowly falling. Hes too tired to fight it, too tired to try and ignore the pain it cause and just how right those little mean voices are sounding. So he makes the conscious effort to move, get out of the house now. Go to the empty barn, the one Fethry isn't in.
He doesn't bother shutting the barn door, he can't think that far ahead. All he manage to focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and matching a gulping breath with each step. His hands are already shaking and his eyes are going blurry with fear leaden tears by the time he reaches one of the old broken down bailers.
His heart his pounding hard enough to leave bruising when he takes an involuntary swing with his fist. His knuckles connect with something metal and sharp and red is suddenly everywhere. He sucks in a sharp inhale when an explosion of pain blooms across his hand but one of those loud voices in his head says he probably deserves it. And it sounds so convincing that Donald doesn't think twice about disagreeing before he takes another, angry swing.
He loses track now, but he's present for all of it. Theres a rational voice somewhere thrown in the mix that he should probably stop. That this was dangerous. That his family would be worried about the state he was in if they saw him. But its drowned out. Barely audible above all the other thoughts circling in his head.
What did it matter anyway? He was already so pathetic. This wasn't new for Donald, the kid who couldn't do anything right. A couple of punches to get some small micro aggressions out were nothing in the long run. As long as Donald didn't hurt anyone, didn't hurt or scare his family, then it was fine. He could smack around the broken farm equipment for a few minutes or an hour or two, and the few scraps and cuts and bloodstained fists along the way were nothing to worry about.
He'd wait the anger out. Let it have its way with him. Let the storm pass over and deal with the consequences of his actions later. It would be fine.
If he was the only one who got hurt, then it would all be fine.