Snippet #1514571

Nathan finally decided to work out some of his frustration on an innocent punching bag, slamming his fist into it over and over. It helped to imagine he was actually pounding on Trevor's face. God, he'd hated that guy. Still did, to be honest. All he'd ever done was torment him, because he was smaller, weaker. Well, Nathan had showed him, hadn't he. It was kinda nice to think that every time he looked in the mirror, Trevor would see the scar on his face and remember what the little wimped he'd always picked on had done to him. Who was the weak and defenseless one now, huh?

The teen paused his barrage of hits when someone rushed into the gym, a thin, frail figure that he knew. Nathan glanced over his shoulder at Pet, wondering if he should ask if she was okay. Running as much as she apparently did and not eating a thing couldn't possibly be good for you. In the end, though, he decided against it, turning back to his punching bag. He couldn't concern himself with other people right now; he had to focus on doing what Key had told him to do. If he followed orders well enough, maybe he'd get out of her sooner.

Fifteen minutes into beating the stuffing out of the bag, though, Nathan turned again when she asked him about his sweatshirt, and froze when he saw the state she was in. God, the girl looked dead on her feet. Wait, not on her feet anymore; now she was on the ground, sobbing in utter misery. Punching bag forgotten, he ran over to her, grabbing his jacket and wrapping it around her small frame. "Pet, are you alright?" What a stupid question, of course she wasn't. Without even thinking, he pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into his shirt. "It's okay. I'm right here, it's gonna be okay." What could've caused her to react like this?