[He's been through a lot, so this isn't wildly out of left field. But it's still... A Lot. He's sixteen? He's sixteen.
He trembles in the hold, yet isn't crying or sobbing. The "heat" radiating off him isn't heat at all. It's cold. Icy cold. Anger. Guilt and frustration.]
no subject
He trembles in the hold, yet isn't crying or sobbing. The "heat" radiating off him isn't heat at all. It's cold. Icy cold. Anger. Guilt and frustration.]
...I couldn't do anything.