Michael was left bound to the tree in just his boxers, exposed to the elements and the stinging nettles that surrounded him. The rough, coarse plants pressed against his bare skin, their tiny barbs making every movement uncomfortable and irritating. Despite the discomfort, Michael remained silent, his pride and defiance keeping him from showing any sign of weakness. His eyes remained fixed forward, refusing to betray the turmoil within.
Mr. Harris and Mr. Thompson, having ensured that Mason and Lucas were safely on their way to the hospital, took their two older sons, Daniel and Jacob, with them. The rest of the boys watched them leave, their faces a mixture of curiosity and unease.
As soon as the guardians were out of sight, Andrew approached Michael, his face a mask of concern. "Michael," he started, his voice trembling slightly.
"Don't come near," Michael said sharply. "Just stay away. Act like you don't know anything about this. I'll handle it. Go to your room and stay quiet."
Andrew nodded, feeling a pang of worry and sadness for his brother. He turned and headed back toward the mansion, doing as Michael instructed. The rest of the boys, meanwhile, approached Michael with a mix of disdain and curiosity. Their feelings of animosity towards Michael and Andrew had only grown after the incident.
"Why did you do it, Michael?" one of the boys, Aiden, demanded. "Why did you beat up Mason and Lucas like that?"
Michael, his body tense and exposed, looked at the group with a cold, indifferent expression. "I felt like they deserved it," he said with a dismissive laugh. "That's all there is to it."
The boys exchanged glances, their anger bubbling beneath the surface. They had never liked Michael and Andrew, and this incident had only intensified their feelings. As they continued to voice their frustration and disappointment, a few of the boys went inside the mansion and returned with gloves. In their hands, they carried freshly cut nettles, their green, thorny stems a painful reminder of what Michael had been enduring.
Without a word, the boys began to use the nettles against Michael. They cracked the stems against his exposed skin, the sharp stings adding to his already uncomfortable predicament. Michael remained stoic, not making a sound despite the pain. His resolve was unshaken; he kept his silence, refusing to give his tormentors the satisfaction of seeing him react.
The boys grew more furious with each stroke of the nettles, their anger fueled by Michael's apparent indifference. They took turns, each boy eager to assert their dominance and take out their frustrations on him. The nettles left red, itching marks across Michael's bare skin, but he bore the punishment in stoic silence.
As the afternoon wore on, the sun cast long shadows across the yard, and the boys' energy began to wane. Their anger eventually gave way to exhaustion, and they finally ceased their relentless assault. Michael, though bruised and marked by the nettles, remained silent, his pride intact despite the harsh treatment.
The scene was a stark reminder of the fractured dynamics within the foster house. Michael's actions and the resulting punishment had deepened the rift between him and the other boys, and the atmosphere remained tense and charged. Michael, still tied to the tree, knew that the repercussions of his actions were far from over.
As the boys finally walked away, Michael was left alone in the yard, the nettles still brushing against his skin. The shadows grew longer, and the weight of his situation settled heavily upon him. His silence spoke volumes about his defiance and the inner conflict he faced, but for now, he endured the consequences of his choices in solitude.
To be continued
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