She leaves him to it. His fitness is appalling and his moods are a big problem but that flash of anger is a good sign. He needs patience, time to heal and for that anger to come out once it’s ready.

Twenty-One

Twenty-One

‘Ben, you up?’

He rolls over, closing his eyes against the banging at the door.

‘Ben? Are you up?’

‘Yes,’ he shouts too loud and too angry, but the night was worse than the one before and plagued with bad dreams that he can’t bring to mind and the noises outside spoke of monsters and war, not a gentle-looking valley.

He sits up and gasps from the pain radiating through his stomach muscles. He breathes it out like a woman in labour while shifting his legs over the edge of the bed and yelping at the pain in his thighs and calves. Then it hits his shoulders and arms and he sags down, feeling like he could cry.

‘Ben? You okay?’

‘I said yes.’

‘You decent?’

‘Fuck’s sake, yes, I am decent,’ he groans, wondering how the hell he is meant to even stand up.

‘Morning,’ she says, leaning round the door. ‘Aching?’

‘No,’ he lies.

‘You’re not aching?’ she asks with a sharp look.

‘No.’ What the hell? Why is he saying no?

‘Well, okay then,’ she says, clearly not believing him. ‘You must be aching a bit. I am.’

‘Shower free?’ he asks, glancing up to see her hair is still wet and guessing Harry has already done his.

‘Ablutions,’ Harry calls.

‘Not a soldier,’ Ben shouts back. ‘Is the shower free?’

‘It’s free,’ she says and waits. Ben waits. She waits. Expectation in the room for him to move and therefore show the pain he is in. He could tell her he hurts, that his body is screaming out in agony and he needs more sleep. He could lie back down and tell them to fuck off and leave him alone. Instead, he walks and his top lip twitches against his will at his thighs begging for mercy.

‘Soak,’ she says, as he closes the bathroom door.

‘Stretch lightly,’ she says when he goes back into his room to get dressed.

‘Drink,’ she says, placing a large cup of water in front of him in the main room. He doesn’t ask where the new larger cups came from, or the bowls, or the plates, or the napkins, or the loaf of bread.

‘Eat,’ she says, pushing eggs and already sliced fruit towards him.

‘Take these,’ she says, giving him two white pills. He doesn’t ask what they are. He doesn’t care. He swallows them with water.

‘Drink more,’ she says. He drinks more water. ‘Stay hydrated today.’