We lay there for a while, me absorbing everything, Nathan taking in my answer. I scratched at one of the scabs on my thigh and looked down. My legs were hairy and had bothered me all week. It shouldn’t have, but what else did I have to think about after I was done counting the dots on the ceiling? It hit me that I was home now; I could bathe.
“Nathan,” I began, breaking the silence. “I want a shower.”
I turned to look at him, and he nodded. “Okay.”
Climbing off the bed, he moved to my side and picked me up, carrying me into the adjoining bathroom. Once there, he sat me down on my good foot, careful not to bang my bad leg on anything before stripping me of my clothing.
“Hold on to my arms.”
It was then I got my first good look at myself in a mirror.
Just when my bruises had finally di
