The Skeleton In Me

Chapter Twenty-One

I apologize for the many inevitable spelling mistakes that are in this chapter, I do not have time to edit it right now, but I will as soon as I can. Though, I'm sure all of you are used to spelling mistakes in my books, so it probably won't matter to you anyway

Also this chapter is dedicated to @golden_specks due to their suggestion of an awkward bath scene (though, awkwardness was not my intent, but alas) I do hope this satiates your desires. 

Chapter Twenty-One  

I let Cousin look around the room first. His eyes going from every corner, every dark spot. A blank expression masked his face, though it's rare I can ever tell what he's thinking.

Finally, I speak up, "You can choose which bed you want."

He doesn't look at me, instead his gaze goes to the window that has its curtains drawn. I take his silence as an indicator that he's still angry at me. So, I sigh, and choose the bed nearest to the door. I shrug the backpack onto the bed, allowing it's contents of dried food and water to spill out.

"Here." I set a water bottle, and dried meat on his bed, deciding I wasn't going to ask him if he was hungry, I was just going to give him food to eat, and let him make his own choice on whether his hatred for me was irrational enough to starve himself.

I look around the room myself, and see a table against the wall beside the door, and a very outdated television, with a broken antenna. I move to the bathroom, where there is a tub, and a brand new bar of soap to be used.

I forget how filthy I am, until I see my reflection in the mirror. My face is covered in dirt and grime, and there's no doubt that I must smell awful.

The thought of a quick bath is exhilarating, until I'm reminded that Cousin can't be kept by himself for even a moment.

I can't trust him to not do anything dangerous.

I shift through my options, knowing I can't risk a bath myself. I walk back outside to see he was staring at a very tacky painting of a flower that was hanging on the wall.

And then I was reminded that he needs a bath too.

My heart plummeted. How was I going to get him to take a bath?

Cautiously, I approach him, and I can't help but notice years of filth on his body that I always managed to ignore until now.

I choose my words carefully, "Uhh, Cousin."

He gaze doesn't waver from the painting, so I continue. "There's a bathtub, and soap, in the bathroom, I think you should take a bath."

His head slowly turns to me, but he says nothing. I wonder if he even knows how to take a bath.

Has he ever been washed before? Has soap ever touched his body? Candace had mentioned that Mr. Father prefers him dirty, it adds to the 'shock value'. Though he had told me that on rare occasions when the dirt became too much, he would hose him down with water.

I refuse to picture Cousin on his knees being bombarded with an endless amount of freezing water. Instead, I beckon him to follow me into the bathroom.

He stands in the doorway and doesn't enter when I sit on the edge of the tub, and look up at him, "Here, I'll get it started for you." I turn the knobs and put my hand under the bath's faucet until the water was a comfortable temperature. I then stand and place the brand-new bar of soap on the ledge. "All you have to do is get in and wash yourself with the soap." I say, making sure he sees the bar.

He doesn't move, as he stares at the water filling the tub. It's not until I notice his hand gripping the edge of the door so tightly his knuckles turned white that I understood he was scared.