“Sit up. Let me do your hair,” he says. “Riggins.” “Humor me.” For some reason, I do as he asks, sitting up, then tipping my head back when he asks. He starts gently working on the hair tie which I know from experience of coming out of one of these episodes is tangled with my hair. When it’s free, a thumb presses into my shoulder, and he whispers, “Tip your head back.” I do what he asks, not questioning it, and he takes a cup, slowly pouring warm water from the tap over my head, avoiding my eyes diligently. His fingers work slowly once it’s all wet, scrubbing in shampoo, using the tips of
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