“Look at me.”

“No one is coming,” he said.

She saw spots in front of her. It is too hot in this room, she told herself. Her head was getting light. Next time you see him like this won’t be in this house, he’ll be laid out on a table in a hospital basement. She picked up his wet pants and began folding them, he had pissed his pants when they cut him. Now he was lying there flushed and awake and looking at his pants in her hand.

He sat up and reached and she leaned over the tub to hold him. He took the pants from her hand.

“I can wash them myself,” he said.

When she left, Poe stripped his shorts off and scrubbed himself where the bum had grabbed him. The cut on his neck stung and he remembered knowing Isaac had left him, for a second all he’d thought was fucking Isaac he left you here and then he’d felt the cutting burning on his neck. He’d felt the cutting and he’d gone loose, done what was expected of him. Would have cut me all the way, Jesús his name was, Jesús the cocksucking Mexican who is still alive now somewhere, he was not a cruel person but help me Father I’ll find him I’ll put a stick through his ankles and hoist him up and skin him. Poe could imagine him screaming and the thought of that, of old Jesús screaming as Poe skinned him alive it nearly gave Poe a hard- on or maybe he would gut him first, field- dress him, as it were, leave his guts all hanging out so old Jesús could get a long look. Christ, he thought, listen to yourself. Your fucking brain is out of adjustment. He splashed water on his face. The Mexican had squeezed on his balls so hard he’d tasted the puke come up. That was when he pissed himself. I ain’t kiddin, said Jesús. I’ll cut these off you don’t settle down quick. He’d felt the air going in and out of him and the man’s heart beating against his back the way you feel a girl’s heart beating when you’re on top of her it was fucking disgusting and he’d let it happen, he wanted to sink back under the water and never come up.