Was this too much? Would she have scolded him for it, told him he was overreacting? He whispered into the night as though she might still be listening. “I warned them. I did. If they go in now, it’s their choice, not mine.”
He rubbed his hands against his trousers, uneasy. He knew what bleach and chlorine could do—strip fabric, leave hair brittle and pale. Not deadly, not unless someone were reckless enough to drink it, but cruel enough to stain. He hadn’t wanted cruelty. He only wanted peace.