Touch Me

Regeneration

"I'm fine... Can we just have that dinner you made?"

"..Yeah. Can we just try to clean you up a bit? You know I think you're the prettiest boy in the whole world, but you're looking really rough."

"I already tried."

"Let me. I think I know how." He dropped his backpack to the floor, leading me to the bathroom, helping me clean myself up, get the blood off, reduce the swelling, and just fix myself up overall.

"thank you, Kevin." I gave a weak smile

"You're looking better already." He returned the small smile.

"I'm gonna change into clothes that don't have blood all over them.." i huffed

"I'll come with you."

"Okay.."

"I-I may know how to get rid of the stain.."

"I really appreciate your help.. you're a wonderful boy."

"It's nothing. I'm just trying to help."

"Well, it's very nice of you."

"Just so you know, if that man ever dares show his face again, he's fucking dead." Kevin muttered as he followed me to my room, clearly examining all the cuts and bruises that were previously hidden under my shirt. "God, what kind of maniac keeps beating someone who blacked out?"

"Him."

"He's a fucking psychopath.."

"He's gonna grow up to be worse than my father. At least if I passed out, he would stop. It wasn't fun for him anymore if I wasn't in pain. But, he just kept going... why did he keep going?"

"I don't know.. but there's already one upside.., You look like Rocky Balboa." He smirked in an attempt to raise my spirits

"Yeah, I guess." I chuckled.

"I'll go get you some ice, okay?" He stepped out of the room as I got a new shirt on.

"thank you!" I shouted across the house to him, balling up my stained soaked shirt.

"Oh, give that to me. I can get rid of the blood."

"You can?"

"With an involved mother, female cousins, and a family history of Hemophilia, I know how to get blood out of clothing." He chuckled, taking it from me.

I'm not sure what exactly he did, or how he knew how to do it, but it worked. All I care is that he got all the blood out. If my grandfather saw it, he'd be worried sick. And rightfully so. I'd be concerned if I saw someone with a shirt soaked in blood, and a bruised, dirt coated face, much more so my own grandson.

"Do you have any ammonia?" Kevin asked from the kitchen

"I.. don't know."

"Okay. Any laundry detergent?"

"Yes, I'll go get that." I hurried to the laundry room, grabbing a bottle of detergent, jogging back to the kitchen and handing it to him, the stain of what used to be bold red, now but a slight discoloration in the white.

"Thank you!"

"Thank you!"

I smiled and watched him finish removing the stain from my shirt.

"Alrighty! Done. Give it a go-around in the washing machine, and it should be completely gone."

"How are you so good at this?"

"I told you!" He giggled "The women in my life have taught me well."

"Weirdo. Can we finally eat?"

"Yes! I think you'll like it."