Free Caraliza by Joel Blaine Kirkpatrick

room, and cried each time he returned, she was brought more food and they were aghast at the rage of her hunger. As the evening approached and it was time for the two men to close the shop, they became aware of the greatest flaw in their hopeful plan. They had no means to take her elsewhere; her state was too grave.
    They were offended to think of leaving her alone - no one else could be told; it was decided Yousep should stay with her. Papa would tell his parents the smallest lie he could tell, and still save his own soul. Surely, God would understand the need of such a lie, as would save the young girl’s life. Yousep embraced him and kissed his cheeks. Yes, surely God would forgive their desperate mistakes. But, did God have any blankets? The shop was meant to be closed, not slept in. They would need to keep warm. Papa closed his mind to the thought of how two young lovers would keep warm.
    He found the blankets in the old changing room and left before his fatherly nature demanded they be scolded. He quickly left the shop as usual, knowing Yousep missed some days in his own sick bed. If they were being watched too closely, his lone departure might not seem so unusual. There was no one on the street as Papa rushed to see Yousep’s parents, hopefully to have his lie well planned before he arrived.
     
    Yousep did not know to be aroused at the sight of his Caraliza unclothed. He was too busy, with his care of her condition, and the rage it stirred in his breast. He brought a basin of very warm water and the softest cloth he could find. He found no gentler soap than the hand soap they used in the closet, but it was better than leaving the filth uncleaned. He was bent and sore when he was well into the job, but she would kiss his hands, and smile a tired smile as he continued.
    He learned all the bruises on her body, all the scrapes. Her feet were rough from lack of proper shoes, but delicate and sweet when they were cleaned. Her knees were bruised, calloused from the hours of kneeling work at the boards in the basement. He cleaned the bruises on her ribs; she had been twisted wickedly in the fall. He angrily guessed it was from a kick; they could not share how she had been hurt. He cleaned her breasts and softly around her neck and shoulders, curious to see her flesh rise in little bumps of chill. To keep her warm he would dry her skin somewhat as he worked, so she would not lay wet and uncovered too long.
     
    The light was leaving, but he dared not light a lamp, as the shop was never used at night, and might draw suspicious eyes. He turned her gently onto her stomach and cleaned her as gently as he had done on the other side. She was bruised equally there, and he was angrier still of her treatment at the monster’s hands. Her bottom was unexpectedly soiled and he was surprised she seemed to have no shame at being cleaned in such an intimate way.
    He at last thought, surely, she was to get no better than he had already done, when she rolled carefully over again to her back. She guided his hand to wash the place between her legs where no man had ever been gentle. It was not to be done; he shook his head. He must make her understand this one modesty, but she pleaded with her eyes that it was needed there, most of all.
    He was completely confused as what to do, having no education in such things, and he seemed very unlikely to understand even after this opportunity. He only guessed she was much softer there and he should take more care not to hurt her. She sensed either his innocent curiosity, or his utter stupidity, but it made her giggle as he tried to discover how to go about the new task.
     
    The bath was complete, yet her hair could not be better cleaned than to gently comb it. Papa kept a scant supply of toiletries; there was never any need for much, Yousep could not find a fine brush in the dark. He hoped he did not pull her hair, or hurt her head too terribly with the one he found to put in his hands. She sat up