When steam was filling up the bathroom, he opened the door and gave me a gentle nudge inside. I obliged, standing under the water and letting it pour down on my head. It would wash away the night, the blood, and the memories. A moment later, the door opened again, and Matt got in with me. This time I did open my mouth to protest, but then his hands were on me, washing me clean, shampooing my hair, and the protest died on my lips. It wasn’t sexual. It was comforting. The most comforting thing anyone had ever done for me.
When he was done, he turned off the water, pulled me out of the stall, and dried my skin. He dried off quickly with the same towel before dropping it unceremoniously into the hamper and leading me across the hall to my bedroom. He pulled down the covers on my bed, and I slid between the sheets. He crawled right in behind me, snugging his body up to mine.
“Matt,” I said weakly, my entire body tensing.