The isolation room was quiet, the only sounds being Michael's labored breathing and the faint echoes of his movements. Hours had passed since Mr. Thompson had left him alone to reflect on his actions. The kneeling pad had long since become a source of intense discomfort, exacerbating the pain from the earlier punishment and the nettles.
After four long hours, Mr. Thompson returned to the room. His expression was a mix of weariness and expectation as he approached Michael. "Are you ready to apologize now?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of resignation.
Michael, still kneeling and struggling with the pain, looked up at Mr. Thompson. His heart was heavy with the realization of his actions' impact, even though he had been resolute in his defiance. The agony he was enduring was a constant reminder of the consequences, and despite his reluctance, a part of him acknowledged his guilt.
"No," Michael replied, his voice hoarse. "I still don't think I should apologize."
Mr. Thompson sighed deeply, his frustration evident. "Very well. I'll leave you to think some more." He locked the room again, leaving Michael in solitude to continue his reflection.
Another hour passed in silence, the room's oppressive atmosphere mirroring Michael's internal struggle. When Mr. Thompson returned, he could see the weariness etched on Michael's face. "Are you ready to apologize now?" he asked again, his tone less demanding and more hopeful.
Michael's resolve wavered as he considered the pain he was in and the nagging sense of guilt that had been growing within him. Though he was still reluctant to admit it, he knew deep down that his actions had been wrong and had caused unnecessary suffering.
"Yes," Michael finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm ready to apologize."
Mr. Thompson unlocked the restraints, allowing Michael to stand slowly. His body was aching all over—the stinging nettles had left their mark, his punishment had left him bruised, and his knees were red and purplish from the prolonged kneeling. He felt weak and unsteady but forced himself to move forward.
Michael made his way to Mason and Lucas, who were sitting together, still recovering from the earlier beating. He approached them, his steps faltering as he reached them. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "I shouldn't have beaten you. I realize now that it was wrong."
Mason and Lucas looked at him, their expressions a mix of surprise and cautious acceptance. Michael, having offered his apology, turned and went straight back to his room, his body still aching from the day's events.
When Michael reached his room, Andrew was already waiting for him, worry etched into his young face. As soon as he saw Michael, Andrew rushed forward and enveloped him in a tight hug. Michael winced in pain from the contact but hugged Andrew back, trying to offer comfort despite his own discomfort.
Andrew's voice was trembling with emotion as he spoke, "Why did you do it? You didn't have to. I'm so worried about you."
Michael gently stroked Andrew's back, trying to calm him. "I'm okay, bub," he said softly. "I just needed to make things right. Go to your room for now. I'll take a wash and come back."
Andrew, though still sobbing quietly, nodded and reluctantly released Michael. He left the room, casting one last worried glance at his brother before closing the door behind him.
Michael, left alone, took a deep breath and prepared for a much-needed wash to ease the discomfort. The day's events had been draining, both physically and emotionally, and he needed to find some solace before he could truly move on.
To be continued
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