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“They were. Then he cut himself on my clock. He can occupy his hands with paper. He doesn’t get a point.”

Jamie glances toward the bed.

I open the top dresser drawer. Sleep clothes, underwear, socks, shirts folded beneath them. There’s nothing Simon can use except the drawer itself, and I already made sure he can’t pull that free. The second drawer is no more interesting than the first.

The bathroom pisses me off on sight.

I bought the razor myself. It’s still in its packaging beneath the sink beside replacement cartridges and shaving cream. I snatch the whole package out and hurl it through the doorway.

Jamie catches it one-handed. The cartridges follow.

“Jesus, Heather.”

“Catch it or bleed. Those are your options.” I open the medicine cabinet. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Deodorant. Nail clippers. All of it goes.

Jamie catches them against the razor.

I take down the comb I bought because Simon keeps his hair short enough that a brush would be useless. The pointed plastic handle had seemed practical when I chose it. Now it looks like another thing he could put in himself if he got creative. I throw it harder than the rest.

Jamie drops everything. Plastic and metal scatter across the floor, the razor skids beneath the dresser, and a cartridge bounces off his boot. He looks at the mess.

I watch him understand that the next thing out of his mouth will decide how the rest of his night goes.

He closes it.

“On the floor,” I tell him. “If you drop my things again, you’ll carry them to the kitchen in your mouth.”

Jamie crouches.

I turn back to the bathroom and check everything again. I pull open the shower curtain. The hooks are too flimsy to matter. The shampoo and conditioner stay. Soap stays. Towels stay. I remove the little grooming scissors from the back of the cabinet and toss them onto the pile at Jamie’s knees.

By the time he stands, his arms are full again. His gaze moves past me to the pull-up bar. “What about that?”

I look at the bar. I chose it for Simon’s shoulders, back when I thought he kept all his damage in the kitchen where I could watch it. “Set those in the hall. Then take it down.”

Jamie carries the armful into the hallway and leaves everything beside the door. He comes back, works the bar loose from the frame.

I walk back to the bed and look down at Simon. He’s exactly where I left him, one cheek still flushed from my hand. His breathing is slow and even. The fresh scar makes anger tighten behind my ribs.

His trousers are still bunched around his thighs where Jamie abandoned them. I leave them there. The kitchen can stay on him too. I take his jaw again. “You’re going to be a lot of work.”

Simon’s been allowed to decide how much damage is enough. That permission is revoked. I don’t cover the mark. Covering it is a kindness he hasn’t earned.

Behind me, the bar comes free and knocks against the doorframe.

“Careful,” I tell Jamie. “You’re already on thin ice for opening your pretty mouth.”

Jamie carries it into the hall without answering and props it against the wall beside the rest.

I turn off the overhead light and leave the mushroom glowing red beside Simon’s bed.

Jamie waits in the hallway with the things Simon’s no longer allowed to have.

I step into the hall, take the key from my pocket, and lock the door. “Take that shit downstairs. You can make two trips.”

CHAPTER 27

Jamie