I grab his arm. “Hugo, stop.”
Zero reaction.
“One…two…three. It’ll be over soon.”
Steam rises, the water going from warm to hot. His hands flush pink before deepening to a blotchy red.
“Hugo!”
His name echoes off the walls, but instead of snapping him out of it, tears well in his eyes. Then, softest of all…
“I won’t tell, Mama. I promise.”
The devastation isn’t just in his unknowing confession—it lives in his tone, in a childlike voice wrapped in memories he relives in his sleep.
My stomach revolts.
The ice cream curdles.
And the water’s scalding now, with no sign of him coming out of it on his own. I reach past him and crank the tap off.
The ritual breaks, leaving him in silent lucidity.
He goes still as water drips from his reddened fingers. I count the seconds, each one out of sync with my racing heartbeat, and hold my breath as he turns to find me standing next to him in my robe.
He jerks away, awareness filling his expression, and those damp green eyes widen. All the color leaches from his complexion.
Naked. His secret laid bare in front of me.
Stumbling backward, he mumbles a strangled “sorry” before retreating down the hall, tripping over the sobs he can’t fully swallow. Moments later, his bedroom door shuts.
I’m left gaping after him, ice cream forgotten on the counter. My legs won’t move. The faucet drips into the silence, and his voice keeps looping under it.
One…two…three.
It’ll be over soon.
I won’t tell, Mama.
I promise.
My palm flies to my mouth. I’m quaking, weak in the knees, with no idea whether I’m about to weep or be sick.
Maybe it’s both.
15
The sun’s been up for an hour. Lately, I rise before it does, finding myself in the studio alone, wrapped in the serenity of dawn—just me and my coffee and a few pieces of paper, my best set of charcoal pencils ready at my fingertips.
Today is different.
Because last night was different.
My mouth is dry. A lump of anxiety lodges in my throat, burning like acid. I don’t know what to expect as I head down the hall. The calendar marks today as a Tuesday, so at least that’s one small detail I don’t have to wonder about.
Cereal it is.
But will I find that second bowl waiting?