Page 30 of The Corruption of Hollis Brown

Walt’s eyes were honey brown, had a dark ring around the outside and a yellow one around the pupil. They made Hollis’s face look sleepier, more serious and less fresh. The outside hadn’t changed shape, Hollis couldn’t tell what Walt looked like from this, how old he really was or whether he had crow’s-feet . . .

Hollis was so engrossed in this that he didn’t realize Walt was stripping off his clothes until his pants were on the ground and Walt was using his arms to roll up his shirt.

STOP! he shrieked.

If you think I’m not taking a shower, you’ve got another think coming, Walt hissed.

STOP, PLEASE.

Walt ignored him and wrestled the shirt off his head.

DON’T LOOK AT ME.

Walt stopped.

Everyone has a body, Hollis. Yours is fine. I won’t look at it if you don’t want me to, but I haven’t showered in three weeks, I just want to feel the water on my face.

Hollis was so panicked he could feel his ears getting hot and red. No one had seen him naked before. Not even his parents after he was done being a kid. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want the first time someone saw him to be like this.

But Walt was already facing away from the mirror, gaze locked on the ocean-themed shower curtain, obeying.

FUCKING FINE. PLEASE, JUST CLOSE YOUR EYES.

Blue

Walt didn’t shower with his eyes closed.

Instead, he turned off the light.

The crack under the door broke the darkness enough that Walt could locate the soap and shampoo, but he couldn’t see Hollis’s body, not even accidentally.

He washed it quick and mechanical, “a military shower,” Walt supplied. Then the invader in Hollis’s body just stood there under the spray. Head tilted back the way he’d been when Hollis had seen him standing in the street.

Hollis didn’t know how to feel anymore. He’d felt too much in too short of a time, it was exhausting. He started to cry again, softly.

Walt put some of Hollis’s ma’s conditioner in his hands and rubbed it together. Then he smoothed it into Hollis’s hair and scrubbed his scalp in soothing circles. Dipped his fingers behind Hollis’s ears and down the nape of his neck, then back up to the crown.

It felt . . . nice, in spite of all things, and that only made him want to cry harder.

Walt sighed.

He leaned them against the wall, forehead and hands touching the tile, and let Hollis weep.

Apple

Hollis jolted from the darkness to find himself already dressed and in bed. A spike of terror gripped him, but Walt was talking.

You cried yourself to sleep. It’s okay, nothing happened, Walt whispered. I didn’t look.

He put a hand in Hollis’s hair and petted it gently, like it wasn’t attached to him. Like he was gentling a horse or quieting a child.

Go back to sleep. It will be easier in the morning. I won’t get up without you.

Without you. Without you. It echoed in the darkness of this place where Hollis now lived, behind his own eyes. Lapping like waves against his feet.

And something in him just . . . surrendered.

He drifted.