Charis
I stood stiffly in front of the bathroom mirror, the steam from my earlier shower still clinging to the edges of the glass.
I was naked, except for the bottoms I had on.
I watched our reflection—the quiet focus in Slater's eyes as he applied ointment onto the last of the fading welts across my ribs. His touch was gentle, but I could feel the tension radiating from him as he worked.
This would be the second time since I arrived that we have shared this intimate routine.
After finishing with the ointment, he began to wrap the bandage carefully around my chest, transforming my feminine curves into the flat plane expected of a young boy.
"I haven't forgiven you yet," I said quietly, finally breaking the heavy silence between us.
"I know," he murmured without looking at me, his focus on securing the bandage, making sure it wasn't too tight or loose on me. "Take your time."
