It was silent inside the room save for the soft prickling sound of water.
A cloth emerged from the bucket, heavy and dripping, and rose into the bright light before it pressed against the nape. The hand holding it squeezed firmly—and the water bled from the cloth and ran in thin, glistening rivulets down the landscape of a wide back.
Each droplet traced the ridges of muscle and valleys of ruined skin.
And then, it dripped soundlessly onto the floor.
Kai's back was a ruinous battlefield.
Lacerations crisscrossed the flesh like the aftermath of some brutal campaign.
Some were long, straight lines that ran from the top of his shoulders to the base of his spine.
Some were shallow and already began to scab, and others were deep enough to show the pale suggestion of bone beneath the torn meat.
