She FROZE in the doorway. Blood trickled down his face, an awful contrast to his pale skin, as her own face turned white. She had never liked the sight of blood. When he leaned back against the counter, exposing the other wound on his knee, she started to feel sick. What in the world had happened to him?! Her breathing is getting harder to keep under control.
"Bullshit," she cursed. "'I'm fine.' How—How could you say that?" She wanted to be angry with him for that AWFUL lie, but seeing his dazed expression finally got her to step towards him even as her breathing got more and more uneven. Gingerly, she touched a hand to his cheek and listened as he actually started to explain himself.
She could hardly believe what he was telling her. No one at their school had any reason to attack him, but some anxious voice in the back of her head yelled that's it's her fault, that being associated with a Baudelaire is asking for trouble. It's what everyone used to tell her, right?
"P-Please, let me help you," she requested softly. She wanted to feel like she was doing something if she couldn't stop the attack. "We'll grab a yearbook and look for the attacker after you stop bleeding. Just...let me help." She sounded desperate to do anything.
