A woman sat across the bed, her son's head in her laps as she used a piece of cloth in warm water to clean up his bloodied body.
Her eyes filled with hot salty liquid and spilled over, only to be replaced by more over and over again. Her bottom lips trembled badly as she tried to hold in her cries, knowing her husband would not like it.
Her heart squeezed in her chest, as anguish washed over her like cold water upturned over her head. Her hands worked to dip the clothe in the bowl beside her, squeeze slightly hot water out of the fabric and then mop the skin of the boy that was littered in blood and angry cane strips.
It was all her fault that her baby had to go through all this. It was because he had wanted to protect her the only way he knew how.
He stood up to his father, the ki
