Water torture

I lay him in the empty bath on his back, cover his face with a damp washcloth, stroking it smooth against his skin.

I hold the cup of water above him, and pour it slowly over the cloth, the sticky terry toweling gaining weight, clinging to the shape of him, his eyes, his nostrils, his mouth.

I see him open his mouth further, like the silent scream, he gurgles, trying to blow the fabric off … Continue Reading

Loves: 11
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