Post by Leeroy Atherton on Dec 31, 2011 4:04:22 GMT
Country: Occupied France
Current Time: Mid-morning, May 1944
Weather Conditions: Soggy and absolutely raining wet
It had started as a gash on her leg. While carrying gravel, Leeroy had tripped and fallen off an outcropping, brushing against the jagged side in the process and getting a slice on her lower leg. It wasn't deep, thankfully, and she had been forced back to work; as soon as the day was done, though, she used half of her water ration to clean it off. A fellow inmate offered her some torn cloth as a bandage.
The next couple of days, Leeroy had kept an eye on the wound. It seemed to scab over and begin going back to normal, but was red and a bit sore to the touch. Second thoughts made Leeroy come to the conclusion the injury was stitch-worthy, and again she cleaned it. Since there was no more cloth to be offered, and since Leeroy couldn't find any clean ones to use, she rewrapped the bandage.
The pain only worsened afterwards. The wound became redder, the scab pitted with yellow. Angry and inflamed, Leeroy cleaned and rewrapped and ignored it as best she could. She developed a noticeable limp, and at night, could not sleep because of how much her leg hurt. Tired and her brain strained with the throbbing cut, she found her energy began to wane. Yes, she still continued to carry on even when others collapsed, and yes, she continued to volunteer to take the heaviest of loads. But, her appetite began to decrease, it came to the point where she could barely touch her leg, and little webs of pink and crimson began to spread out. Soon, she didn't even bother to look at the injury, as it only demoralized her.
She had to keep working. She had to keep her mind on the tasks at hand, obey all orders and do what the Germans said without hesitation. Even as her movements became jerky and her senses dull, receiving kicks and backhands sometimes as a result, she pressed onwards. Her face tinged itself with red, and she alternated between blistering hot and damningly cold. It was almost like having a case of the stomach flu, and Leeroy's rations were sometimes vomited up if her stomach was particularly uneasy.
One rainy morning, Leeroy woke up with a pounding migraine; a small headache had been plaguing her for days, but now, it felt as if she had been whacked with a hammer. Shivering and tired, she marched out to help unload some digging equipment from a new shipment to the camp. She worked as quick as she could, but was more than obviously sluggish; her senses and muscles seemed to refuse to work. As a German yelled in her ear and the ears of two others, Leeroy's fingers suddenly went numb, and everything she had been carrying plopped into the sticky mud. The German screamed in rage and smacked Leeroy across the face.
She fell, and she didn't get up, eyes distant and lidded. The German screamed some foul profanity at her in his native tongue; all Leeroy did was let out a quiet moan.
Current Time: Mid-morning, May 1944
Weather Conditions: Soggy and absolutely raining wet
It had started as a gash on her leg. While carrying gravel, Leeroy had tripped and fallen off an outcropping, brushing against the jagged side in the process and getting a slice on her lower leg. It wasn't deep, thankfully, and she had been forced back to work; as soon as the day was done, though, she used half of her water ration to clean it off. A fellow inmate offered her some torn cloth as a bandage.
The next couple of days, Leeroy had kept an eye on the wound. It seemed to scab over and begin going back to normal, but was red and a bit sore to the touch. Second thoughts made Leeroy come to the conclusion the injury was stitch-worthy, and again she cleaned it. Since there was no more cloth to be offered, and since Leeroy couldn't find any clean ones to use, she rewrapped the bandage.
The pain only worsened afterwards. The wound became redder, the scab pitted with yellow. Angry and inflamed, Leeroy cleaned and rewrapped and ignored it as best she could. She developed a noticeable limp, and at night, could not sleep because of how much her leg hurt. Tired and her brain strained with the throbbing cut, she found her energy began to wane. Yes, she still continued to carry on even when others collapsed, and yes, she continued to volunteer to take the heaviest of loads. But, her appetite began to decrease, it came to the point where she could barely touch her leg, and little webs of pink and crimson began to spread out. Soon, she didn't even bother to look at the injury, as it only demoralized her.
She had to keep working. She had to keep her mind on the tasks at hand, obey all orders and do what the Germans said without hesitation. Even as her movements became jerky and her senses dull, receiving kicks and backhands sometimes as a result, she pressed onwards. Her face tinged itself with red, and she alternated between blistering hot and damningly cold. It was almost like having a case of the stomach flu, and Leeroy's rations were sometimes vomited up if her stomach was particularly uneasy.
One rainy morning, Leeroy woke up with a pounding migraine; a small headache had been plaguing her for days, but now, it felt as if she had been whacked with a hammer. Shivering and tired, she marched out to help unload some digging equipment from a new shipment to the camp. She worked as quick as she could, but was more than obviously sluggish; her senses and muscles seemed to refuse to work. As a German yelled in her ear and the ears of two others, Leeroy's fingers suddenly went numb, and everything she had been carrying plopped into the sticky mud. The German screamed in rage and smacked Leeroy across the face.
She fell, and she didn't get up, eyes distant and lidded. The German screamed some foul profanity at her in his native tongue; all Leeroy did was let out a quiet moan.
