"Michael… I'm sorry." Rudy said, his head lowered, "because of me—"
"Don't worry about it," Michael replied, nudging him with his elbow softly, "let's focus on the next class for now—I'll take you to the infirmary after."
Rudy looked like he wanted to object, but he merely nodded in response—accepting his friend's concern.
Meanwhile, Michael's gaze was on Melody's back as she stormed away, her words ringing in his mind. While he would admit that he got a little out of control earlier, it wasn't without reason.
Just remembering the wounds upon Rudy's body was enough to make him feel sick. If even the fabric rubbing against them was painful, he could only imagine what it would be like to receive a slap against it.
Of course Braydon couldn't have known about Rudy's wounds, and if he did, he probably wouldn't have been so blatant by attacking them directly. There were plenty of other ways to do so—ways that would avoid suspicion.
