Chapter 39
He lay there patiently as I stripped him out of his torn clothing. A bruise the shape of a boot was already forming on his ribs, and more pummeled his abdomen. The blood that had collected on his split lip had already dried, but I washed it away anyway. Anything to keep my hands moving and stave off the shaking that threatened me to the core.
Neither of us spoke until I rose to dump the bloody water and fetch another basinful.
“Take care of yourself now,” Leandro said. “I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t—”
“Your hands. Your knuckles are still bleeding.”
I looked down. It was the first time since seeing him on the street I’d noticed something that wasn’t him. He was right. The skin on every single finger was torn and stained red. There was even a long scratch disappearing beneath my shirtsleeve. I had no memory of how I might have got it.