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Mr. Danya
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He was still shaking, shaking as he watched Matt put the gun down, shaking as he listened to him rant and babble.

He remembered what Matt had said before, perfectly. The words were playing in his mind, loud and clear, running in the background as Matt launched his new tirade.

People had died, died at Matt’s hands. Before, it had just been to prove he wasn’t a loser. Killing his friends for no good reason was worth it, because that way he’d win. It didn’t matter what that meant, that had been enough for him at the beach, and that’s what he’d left Nate thinking about.

Now? Now he wanted to stand there with a straight face, tell him that that was stupid, that it didn’t mean anything? That trying justify it, killing everyone, was pathetic?

People were dead. No matter how used to it he was, how much everyone wanted it to be happening, people were still dead.

Nate clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head, as the gun hovered between them. It begged to be fired.

He hated it. He hated the machete in his hand. He hated everything that had killed anyone here. But, most of all he hated –

There was only one thing he could do.

He stepped forward, the machete dropping out of his hand -- and punched Matt right in the gut.
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