The water is cold, nothing I can do about that. In winter it will be worse. I fill a basin and then remove his clothes. He doesn’t fight me even though his flesh is already goose-bumped. Once there’s crap on the cloth it can’t go near his face so I begin there. Really he needs a bath but even if I had a tub the water temperature would be a cruelty. His backside is nothing but rash, broken, even bleeding in places and it extends a little down his legs. Painful no doubt. He begins to cry as I wash over it, different from before, higher pitched and again he reaches for me. I take the sweater and pull it over his matted hair. That’s going next, I have scissors in my stash. The arms I have to double up to keep him warm and then I realize his feet are cold, icy even. It’s back to the vault for socks, they’ll be as long as his legs but somehow I don’t he’s going to mind.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .