We all stood in silence for a little bit. We were thinking. Everyone had different expressions on their faces. Max had his typical calm, wondering look, as he stared intently at E. 
        May had the same look she always had when she was thinking. Her right eye was almost closed and she was looking up slightly. She was clearly thinking about this a lot and from all angles.
        Max looked calm, as always, as he stared at E. Max was most certainly figuring out what E was thinking.

        E stared at Max nervously. He looked worried. He knew darn well that Max knew exactly what he was thinking, and he was clearly thinking something bad.

        Overall, they all showed pain and sadness at the bottom of their overlapping expressions. Except Sam. Sam was pissed. I don't mean he was angry or frustrated. I mean he was pissed. Full blown, raging, ball of fury, that looked like he was going strangle E. He probably would have too. I guess he realized that we need E to give us information, because he only punched E in the face again. E's face was drenched in dried, dark, red blood. Sam's fist looked the same way. I don't think all that blood was his though.

        "Would you stop punching him in the face? He needs his face to tell us stuff." May stated loudly to Sam.

        "Fine. I'll stop punching him in the face." Sam responded, just before he kicked E as hard as he could in the shins. E fell to the blood stained snow below him and cried out in pain. Sam may have broken his leg. 

        Max and I stood calmly as May, Sam, and E screamed at each other. I looked over at Max. The dried blood that clung to him, made me want to vomit. I looked down at myself and realized that I was covered in more blood than him. I felt it all sticking to the left side of my face.
        This actually made me vomit. I bent over and spewed. When I did, Everyone stopped what they were doing, and watched me worriedly as I continued to spill everything I've ever eaten.
        "Am what's wrong?" May asked gently.
        "So much blood." I heaved and puked even more. I looked up slightly. Everyone was looking at themselves and each other. The finally realized exactly how much blood we were all coated in.
        I thought about the condition the guards were in. It was vial and gruesome. It was absolutely terrifying. Some of them didn't even look human anymore.
        Some of their skulls were caved in or shattered. Others were literally ripped apart. There were a few that weren't bleeding to badly though.
        I began to remember what it looked like when I whacked those guys in the head. Their brains flying at me and sticking to the club I was using.
        Or looking around the forest and seeing the mutilated bodies of Sam and May's victims. Their guts spilling out of their ripped open stomachs.
        I heaved again and puked up stomach acid. My throat and stomach burned. My feet were surrounded by snow and vomit. Max rubbed my back. I stood streight up.
        "I'm fine." I mumbled.
        "You sure about that?" Max asked soothing me.
        "Yeah. Just couldn't stomach it. I'll be strong next time."
        "It's not a matter of weakness. That was a terrible experience. I never wanted you to go through that."
        "You guys didn't just blow some serious chunks."
        "We all have our methods of dealing with stuff." Max was right. When I was faced with certain complications, I got nauseous. Sometimes I would puke, other times I wouldn't.
        Max handled stress the same way he handled everything else. Calmly. He was the suffer in silence type. If he needed to talk to someone we were all there, he very, very rarely consulted any of us with his issues though. He tended to feel compassion a lot of the time.
        May kept quite a lot of the time. She would talk to us about some things. Other things she would keep to herself. It was kind of fifty fifty with her. She would get sad though. She was tough as all hell, but she would get sad and hurt, and if it was bad enough, she would cry.
       Sam, as you may have guessed, gets angry. No matter what the situation is. If he cries, it's because he's so pissed that he doesn't know what else to do. If someone pissed him off, he beat them up. He was though, stubborn, and locked up like a steal trap. If he didn't want to talk, which he usually didn't, then there was no way in hell that you would get him to say anything.
        I guess that was what made us a good team. We all kind of balanced each other out.