He closed the kitchen door and locked it behind him.
He closed the kitchen door and locked it behind him. I sat watching as he moved around the kitchen like I was not there, washing the few dishes in the sink, clearing the table and wiping it down. He turned on the radio to a classical station before turning to face me.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked softly.
I simply watched and waited.
Reaching out he picked me up and sat me on the edge of the table. Gathering a wet cloth he began tending my cuts.
“Why do you do this?” he asked softly, cleaning a long cut on one arm. He knows I will not answer.
(To be continued)