Her hands closed around my wrists and tugged. Gently, but unyielding. She didn't say anything back to what she probably heard. Even if she's smart enough to reason out what has me spiraling this time.
> From unnecessary jealousy of long past things to a tortured, failed savior of recent events. Why am I so… <
We moved away from the window, through the doorway into the bathroom. I didn't have the will to resist. She probably could have ripped off my head and I wouldn't have reacted strongly.
The water came on next. Quickly warming spray against the tile. Steamy mist beginning to rise. And I dropped my Tolerance so I could feel it all.
She started at my forearms, working the dried blood and worse from my skin with careful pressure. I watched her move my hands like they belonged to someone else. Scrubbing and lathering a mostly unscented bodywash.
"We need to get you clean. Asha is waiting for his mother."
> She means I don't get to fall apart. <
