112 - shelter
evin flicked up the knob on the faucet, and the water began rushing out of the spigot and down the drain. He let it run for a few moments, and then he began to briefly pass his fingers under the stream of water. With each pass, the water got warmer and warmer, until it was hot. On the last pass, it would have qualified as scalding. Kevin's fingers tingled with pain from the hot water.
He giggled. The water was ready.
With no further hesitation, it was time to get to work. He liberally applied soap to his sponge, and just for kicks he squirted some out all over the dishes in the sink, for good measure. The pile of dishes was monstrous, having accumulated over the last few days. No one in his family liked to do dishes, or indeed any cleaning at all. But the situation had gotten so bad that it could no longer be avoided, and his mother had promised him that he would be rewarded if he completed this task.
Kevin thought it was easiest to wash the smallest items first. There were a few large pots and pans in the pile of dishes needing to be cleaned, but he would get to those last, when he would have more space in the sink to work with. He dug out a few pieces of silverware, and that is where his journey began. The knives were the easiest, and he liked the fact that they were knives, even if they were just dull butter knives. Better than puny little spoons, the weakest of all cutlery. Forks fell somewhere in the middle. It was a pain to get all the encrusted food out from between their tines, but at least they were pointy. Working diligently with soap, sponge, and scalding water, Kevin cleaned them all, and successfully placed them in the drying rack.
With the silverware out of the way, he contemplated what to do next. The smaller plates and bowls? As his eyes scanned the dirty dishes, he nearly slapped himself in his idiocy. Of course! The glasses would be next.
There were a bunch of glasses, cups, and mugs of various shapes and sizes lining the bottom of the sink. At random, he picked up a rather simple glass. His little sister had used it to drink water, he believed. It was translucent, and it looked clean already, which was more than he could say for a lot of the other cups awaiting his attention.
Nevertheless, he rinsed it a few times before jamming his soapy sponge down the throat of the cup. He began working it around the glass in a circular fashion, when he heard a quick cracking sound. Before he knew it, he no longer held a glass in his hands, but two large shards of broken glass.
In the same moment, he apparently had sliced a rather sizeable wound into his right hand, which had been holding the sponge and applying the most pressure to the glass when it broke. Bright red blood spilled out of the gash, and mixed with the soapy water still flowing into the sink.
Kevin stared at his hands for a moment, observing all that had quickly transpired. Finally, his eyes lit up. "Sick!" he excitedly shouted.
"I've become so strong that I can now just, like, rip glasses apart!" he said to himself with glee. Completely ignoring the torrent of blood that was still gushing from his hand, he flexed his arms in triumph. "Yeah, I'm ripped!"
Kevin gathered the wherewithal of his senses to at least shut the water off in the sink, which was still very much stained with crimson.
"Mom! Check out what I just did!" he called out.