He himself couldn't make any noise after that, his face was full of pain.
"I'm so sorry," I muttered, but I knew that he wouldn't respond; he couldn't. Distressed, I looked about in search for the other boy. There he was, standing in the open middle with his weapon at his side. It was clear that he wasn't thinking smart at that moment, or maybe he wanted to prove that he was somewhat better than what we pictured of him. He looked like he wanted no more than for others to see him the way he portrayed himself to be.
"Rascal," I said under my breath.
