He stares at the machine in front of him, his fists in a ball. He stomps over to it and tightly grips the red metal wheel. You’d think he’d start to move it in a circle..but no. He bangs his head against the machine, ignoring the pain. And surprisingly ichor starts to pour in, he’s somehow doing it.

he grumbles before stopping for a second, catching his breathe. In the corner of his eye he sees you standing there, staring. He turns his head and furrows his eyebrows.

" What do you want. "