Seated

He sits on the edge of the bath, biting his lower lip, hard. They mustn’t hear him crying. His hands grip the bath tub tight, knuckles pushing through the skin.

He tries to think about nothing but the force of his grip. On the bath tub. The coolness beneath his hands. His eyes squeezed shut, pushing the tears out. Liquid streaming down his face. A few drops falling onto his legs. But no sound. Not a single sound emerging from his mouth. His wide open, silent mouth. 

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