One step at a time, she coaxed him the few steps to the shower, and in. She got him to just lean on the wall, and poured some soap on the loofah. Murmuring continual little reassurances and soothing words, she scrubbed at the bits of blood dried on his shoulder and torso, pausing every so often to squeeze his hand or give him a little kiss.
Allowing her to take control of his lethargic movements, Isaac cast her a haunted smile and only began to relax as her fingers ghosted across his flesh, washing away the blood and trauma that was inflicted upon him earlier. Returning the kiss each time she met his lips with one, it wasn’t long before the enormity of everything set in and his tears began to mix with the spray of the shower.
She paid individual attention to each finger, not saying a word about how he might have gotten blood under his fingernails, just scrubbing it away. Pulling him into a hug that incidentally got him under the spray, she held him close, his chin propped on her head, and let him cry. These were better tears than the shocked ones of his arrival.