17

Thomas

Another punch at the punching bag in the gym did nothing to alleviate my rage.

Beads of sweat covered my forehead, and arms. My shirt lay on a vacant seat by the side. The fervor and strength with which I continued punching, increased.

'How the hell did that happen?' I wondered for the umpteenth time. That was definitely a first.

My throat suddenly felt patched, and I gulped. Panting hard, I sat on the floor, hands placed on my knees.

The lights in the gym was turned on, lightening the hitherto dark room. I was grateful for the light, although it wasn't entirely necessary. I could see clearly in a dark room of course, due to my heightened vision as a werewolf. I sighed yet again.

I hadn't meant to lose my cool the way I did. No, that hadn't been my intention at all. I sniffed, and whirled around when the door swung open.

"Hey," Lazarus walked in, and shut the door close.

I relaxed when he walked over to me with a glass of water in his hands. "I figured you would