And So Comes The Soldier [Joe]

[Vivienne Rousseau]

Country: Germany
Area/Setting:
A labour camp, filled with prisoners-of-war, Jews, Roma, and various other people imprisoned by the Nazis. The place is bleak and miserable, filled with building materials and weakened people. The smell of sweat and dust hangs in the air.
Current Time: 21:42
Weather Conditions: Windy and cold, with the mercury hovering at seven degrees Celsius.

- = = -

Vivienne Rousseau lay in a light doze, a cuffed hand draped over her stomach as she leaned against the right wall, resting as far from the cell's front as possible. There was a dull ache in her shoulders where the straps of the day's sledges had dug in, but the giantess had enough of a pain tolerance to ignore it, and get what rest she could. Above her, the winds of the autumn night whistled through the bars of the cell's one window, carrying in the faint sounds of the outside world. Occasionally, the thudding steps of a jackboot-wearing German would echo through the cell, sometimes causing Vivienne to rouse, sometimes not.

The night was unusually quiet. No one seemed to want to talk - even the guards were silent. Vivienne was thankful, but at the same time, unnerved; such heavy silence save for the wind made her uneasy. It was if something was just waiting to happen, to shatter the silence and surprise everyone with some sort of revelation or major event. When one was a prisoner, unpleasantness of some sort seemed to always come your way.

Clang!

She blinked rapidly, snorting quietly as the metallic sound woke her. Down the corridor, the prison door swung open, and the sounds of a body being dragged could be heard. Grunts and bits of German filled the air, and the giantess's blinking slowed. It was probably just another prisoner, another soul who had annoyed the Nazis one way or another. The Germans wasted no time in throwing him into the cell across from the Frenchwoman, growling something about a "stupid Jew" before slamming the cell door shot. The sounds of others waking followed the click of the door's locking, Vivienne's captors returning to their posts as quickly as they had come. A thin, boyish figure now occupied the cell - at least, with her poor eyesight, that's what the giantess could see.

It was no matter to her, though. He was just another prisoner, and the night was just another night. Yes, the Frenchwoman could sympathize with the newcomer, but there was nothing special about him. By the sounds of it, he had been caught, just as so many other Jews had, and placed in a camp. Vivienne would just fall asleep again, and in the morning, be woken up by someone banging on her door to get her up for work.

Closing her eyes, the woman attempted to fall asleep again, focusing her mind on thoughts of rest to help ease herself back into slumber.

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

The night was cold, very cold…or it felt like that to the Jewish prisoner. It seemed like an hour ago that he was walking down the street towards that hotel and towards the end of his life effectively. If only he had not been so smart…if only…if…if he hadn’t gone there, if he had never been captured by Strumfelder first time, if he hadn’t been so smart and cheeky…but that was in the past.

The soldier was being dragged along, his clothes had gone, in their place was a blue and white stripped uniform, his hair had been cut by razors only half an hour before he was chucked into the cell that he was now in.

He hadn’t said a word to the Germans around him, but had listened to their conversations whilst they had cut all his hair off. On Strumfelder’s orders it had seemed that they had been more forceful and more untidy and nasty with the cutting, catching his skin when ever they could so patches of blood and scarring where on his sculp.

A few of the prisoners had awoken when the American had been dragged in to the cell, his body was shivering with cold and fear…fear now inset into him, he hadn’t been afraid of the Germans…he had been afraid of Strumfelder of course but to the normal German soldier he had felt that they could be talked over, but obviously not….

The cell’s floor was cold as he was chucked in by black gloved individuals. His body hit the floor but he got up immediately afterwards and stared through the bars, watching the soldier’s retreating back.

”Fucking Nazis!” he swore at them in English so they wouldn’t understand, fucking…fucking Nazis…they didn’t turn back but just laughed as they closed the door shut.

The cell opposite Joe was occupied by a rather large individual, the Jew couldn’t quiet see into the darkness. He lent against the bars, a hand running up to his head and wincing slightly as he touched the cuts.
He turned away from the bars and slumped down, leaning against them, his head in his hands as he began to let his emotions go and cry softly.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

Translations:

On vse eshche tol'ko delaet sebja cel'ju. = He's still just making himself a target.

Oui = Yes

Évidemment il est un Américain! = Of course he's an American!

C'est un accent du sud, je vous dis! Ne me surprend pas qu'une petite merde naturelle, sans éducation à travers l'étang a fait ajouter son âne(idiot) ici, je vous dis! = That's a southern accent, I tell you! Doesn't surprise me that some inbred, uneducated little s&!@ across the pond got his ass thrown in here, I tell you!

Oui, le merci, monsieur. = Yes, thank you, sir.

Maintenant, retenez-vous s'il vous plaît d'interrompre une question je ne vous ai pas demandé ? = Now, will you please refrain from interrupting a question I did not ask you?

- = = -

Did the prisoner just shout at the Germans in an...American accent? And was that the English language he was speaking?

Vivienne's eyes snapped open, and she glanced over her shoulder. The newcomer's quiet sobs could be heard through his hands, accompanying the sounds of chains clinking and voices murmuring. Some were mumbling profanity for being awoken, some were heading to the front of their cells in curiosity, and some were doing nothing at all - the man's outburst had gained several different reactions. The giantess found herself following en suite of those who were seeing who was there.

"...I vould not cry eev I were you," came a scratchy voice from somewhere beside Vivienne. It was one of the other French prisoners, one who had had some sort of injury to his throat that had weakened his voice. "Crying 'ere makez you look veak, boy. Toughen up."

"Euh, Gervaise...leave zhee poor lad be," Vivienne said, her voice low and heavy with tiredness. One large, dirty hand rose to wipe at her eyes, removing the little bits from her tear ducts. "'E's only young, eet zeems. Ov courze 'e's going to be zcared - veren't we all zcared at one time or anozher?"

"On vse eshche tol'ko delaet sebja cel'ju," came a Russian voice, a woman's by the sound of it. Vivienne did not understand what the woman had said, so said woman was ignored; instead, the giantess pulled herself over to the front of her cell, her one good eye narrowing. Now that she was closer to the American, she could see that he was, indeed, skinny. Vivienne still couldn't figure out how old he was, though - from where she sat, he looked to be somewhere from sixteen to twenty.

"You!" the giantess barked. "Look at me, boy - oui, you, zhee one crying. Are you an Américain?"

"Évidemment il est un Américain!" loudly said a man's voice four cells down, on the side the newcomer was on. "C'est un accent du sud, je vous dis! Ne me surprend pas qu'une petite merde naturelle, sans éducation à travers l'étang a fait ajouter son âne ici, je vous dis!"

"Oui, le merci, monsieur," replied Vivienne with a hint of annoyance. The know-it-all tone the man had used rubbed the large woman the wrong way - how dare he speak of a possibly-Allied man in such a voice! "Maintenant, retenez-vous s'il vous plaît d'interrompre une question je ne vous ai pas demandé ?"

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Mummers from all around made Joe shudder, obviously his shouting had awoken the inmates of the cells around. He could feel eyes upon him, and then a scratchy voice that came from the cell opposite. Joe whipped his eyes, and glanced over his shoulder to where the voice had come from.

Joe was about to retort in slight anger that he was tough and he wasn’t a boy but another French sounding voice spoke up. This voice sounded tired and low. Then someone spoke in Russian, Joe didn’t understand that…one language that he didn’t speak was Russian…he spoke German and French but not Russian…he had never learnt it at school it seemed.

Suddenly the woman with the tired voice barked at him, telling him to look around. Joe composed himself then turned around to face the opposite cells. ”Yeah…Oui…I am.” he glanced over as he heard a loud man’s voice in French speak up four cells down…he understood only a little bit of what the man said…a know-it-all by the sounds of things. He rolled his eyes and lent his head against the bars, the cool bars were nice and cold against his skin.

He wasn’t in the mood for arguing with un-known French people. It was no point; he was too tired, and too upset about what had just happened that speaking seemed an even more tiring activity.

He could hear the sounds of the inmates, they all seemed so tired…their voices at least sounded really tired…would this be Joe in a few days time? Tired…deflated…? He didn’t know…he just knew that the next time he saw an Allied flag he would be so much happier.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

Translations:

Est = Is

Ne soyez pas si rapides pour supposer qu'il soit sur notre côté, Vivienne. = Don't be so quick to assume he's on our side, Vivienne.

Pour tout vous savez, il pourrait être juste un autre N - = For all you know, he could be just another N -

GARDEZ LE SILENCE! = KEEP QUIET!

Je sais que déjà, gardez ainsi votre bouche fermée! = I know that already, so keep your mouth shut!

- = = -

She had heard the man's response amongst the words of the others. So he was an American - the enemy, as far as the Germans were concerned. By the looks of things, he had been sentenced to live as one of the inmates, hauling around and building things for the hated Nazis. His fate was an odd one, though; as far as Vivienne knew, the prisoners were either executed or released, depending on the feelings of some important figure at the time. Had he been working for the Nazis, perhaps? Maybe he had been betrayed by someone? Was he a deserter that had been picked up by an enemy patrol?

"Zhen I do not zee you as a foe," Vivienne replied. "My name est Vivienne, lad. Vivienne Rousseau. Am I correct vhen I assume you are a zoldier of the Alliez...?"

"Ne soyez pas si rapides pour supposer qu'il soit sur notre côté, Vivienne," snapped the man from four cells down. "Pour tout vous savez, il pourrait être juste un autre N - "

"GARDEZ LE SILENCE!" boomed Vivienne, causing a few inmates to jump and clamp their mouths shut. In the back of her mind, Vivienne made a mental note to not yell as loudly, lest she alert the guards. "Je sais que déjà, gardez ainsi votre bouche fermée!"

The man made not another sound. Once she was sure no one would interrupt her again, the Frenchwoman cleared her throat quietly, and then said, "I apologize for my tone. Yes, my name est Vivienne - vhat iz yourz? You're giving eet to a vriend 'ere, don't be shy. I applaud vhat you and ze Alliez have been doing. My 'omeland haz proven unable to defend eetself alone - I blame ze idiots zhat run it. If eet veren't for zhem, I vould still be a free woman."

She paused, waiting for an answer from him, then abruptly spoke again.

"But, eef you vish, I vill not prezzure you to zpeak your name. I underztand zhat ze walls can 'ave earz vhen ve vish zhem not to."

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Who was this woman? She sounded and looked like just another inmate; maybe she was just another woman who got in the way of the Nazis or a spy? No…she didn’t sound like a spy and she did seem to be trying to make conversation with the lad as she called him.

”Yes I am..-“ again he was cut off by the rude man who seemed to think that he knew best and that everyone should listen to him…idiot.
The woman who was called Vivienne shouted a quick, short, sharp KEEP QUIET and then went back to talking to Joe in a normal voice. The woman must have respect from all the inmates as they immediately shut up as soon as she had shouted.

Even the man three cells down did not speak again.

Joe listened, his eyes now alert and attentive as the woman spoke, she was a Frenchwoman…her homeland had gone under Nazi control. ”N-No, its fine…I trust you.” Joe muttered, moving so he could hear the woman more.

”I’m Corporal…” he paused, ”Well, I was Corporal but…Joe Claude…my name is Joe Claude.” he let the word corporal slip from his lips as he said his Christian and surname. He would never be classed as a Corporal again when he was here, but he classed as “scum”, or “Jew”.

”I came here before, but not in these cells, in the soldier camp…” he glanced down and rubbed his eyes again, ”I was stupid…stupid to have…” he said it more to himself than to the inmates that were listening. ”Last time I was with the Allies, they were marching towards Paris…don’t you worry, this war will be over soon…I’m certain of it.” he glanced at Vivienne, a soft smile on his lips at the thought of the Allies marching in any day now. But the smile faded quickly as he released that he might not live to see that day....but he would try, oh yes he would try.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

So this was Joe Claude, then. It certainly explained why he had been thrown in prison - the infamous Doctor Strumfelder was known to be a hunter by nature. Even though he was supposedly withered, battered and broken, he still must have somehow had the strength to track down any of his missing "playthings". Vivienne could vaguely remember the day where she and some other labourers had heard the faint screams of Joe as Strumfelder did something to him. The rumours were numerous, ranging from logical to the far-fetched, but the most common one was that Strumfelder had dissected part of the the poor soldier.

"I know who you are, Josef," said Vivienne. "Zeveral labourers and I vere vorking at the camp you were put in ze day you vere put zhere. Ve 'eard you, but pazt zhat, ve do not know vhat happened. I zhall not zpeak of eet - you are not alone. In my yearz ov being in 'ere, I 'ave zeen many be taken and 'urt in many wayz. Ve all 'ave zome zort of zcar in 'ere."

When Joe mentioned that the Allies were marching towards Paris, the giantess's face brightened. If the Allies were approaching Paris, then her town would surely be liberated soon enough. She hoped her old house was still standing; the Nazis had probably looted it for everything of value, but hopefully, there was still a structure. In time, she could replace as much as she could that was lost - Vivienne had family in England she could fall back on if she needed financial help.

"I waz a laundrezz," said Vivienne, deciding to tell Joe a little something about herself since he had. "I lived nowhere important, juzt a small village. Heh...I 'oneztly thought France could take care of 'erzelf. Apparently, I waz vrong - we rolled on our backz without a second thought. You'd be zurprized at 'ow quickly France was run over by zhe Germanz vhen zhey came in."

The woman then paused, feeling her legs stiffen up. Her arthritis must have been starting to act up again. Holding up a finger and muttering, "One moment," to Joe, the woman slowly stood up, placing her hands on her back and cracking it on the way. Once she was steadily standing, towering over Joe at her full height of seven feet, she lifted a leg. Shaking it vigourously, the giantess grunted, her knee and ankle cracking a little. After repeating the action with her other leg, she settled back down into a sitting position, sighing tiredly.

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Joe’s eyes narrowed as she spoke about knowing who he was. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he remembered that those words had been said by Strumfelder when Joe had been in the hospital…I know who you are…they seemed to be the most dreaded words in Joe’s vocabulary now and forever.

But this time, the words came from a kind person, not a wicked, evil person like Strumfelder. ”Was I really that loud?” he shuddered as he remembered when he had hung from the ceiling getting beaten, where he had lain on the table with his toes being broken one by one…bone by bone.

”Lets just say, I’ve never felt as much pain as I did then.” Joe muttered softly, rubbing his eye where he felt a tear roll down it. One hand went to his foot, taking off the wooden clog that he had been forced to wear and touched the skin. The toes had healed but the feet where still sometimes sore, also his stomach sometimes stilled pained him because it hadn’t been mended properly what with the hospital blowing up that he had been in.

Vivienne began to talk about herself and Joe listened, ”I captured a few towns in France…bombed to pieces most of them.” he added, she had stopped and stood up…she was an extremely tall woman, he heard her back crack and he winced slightly.

He decided he might as well tell her and the other inmates a bit about himself as he was going to be here for a little while. ”I was born here in Germany, my family are originally German and Jewish….so that makes me a German in a way. We moved out to the US just after the Great War…” he paused, ”I joined up to the newly formed Airborne division…err…basically consists of jumping out of planes behind enemy lines…” he trailed off, letting his words sink in and curled closer to the bars, watching the figures around him.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

"Oui, Joe."

The soldier shuddered, most likely from remembering what had been done to him that day. In a voice sad and soft, he said, "Let's just say, I've never felt as much pain as I did then." He then reached down to one foot, pulling off the hard, wooden shoe which all prisoners were required to wear. Vivienne's feet had toughened, making it easier to stand the uncomfortable footwear, but that didn't mean she didn't like wearing them. The majority of the prisoners there probably felt the same way.

When she had sat back down, her face portrayed a slight look of disgust at being told about French towns being destroyed. Her face further darkened when Joe mentioned he was Jewish - a fact like that meant he wouldn't survive long in prison. Vivienne would have to make sure to keep an eye out, just in case anyone decided to mess with the poor boy before he could get back to his side. She also cut him off when he began to speak of his military work.

"Ah ah AH!" said Vivienne at the word "newly". "Az I zaid, ze wallz 'ave earz vhen ve don't vant zhem to. If you zhould ever zay ze wrong zhing in front of ze Boche, zhen zhey will not hezitate to drag you back to vhere you vere tortured and 'urt you again. 'Ow do you zay it - 'Zhips are zunk by looze lipz?' Ze zame appliez 'ere. Be dizcreet, and you shall live to zee your children grow."

The giantess leaned back, and rubbed her face. She was more tired then she first thought; it must have been her heart acting up again. With a chuckle to herself, mostly out of distaste at how old she seemed to be getting, Vivienne glanced back at Joe.

"You're lucky, Joe," said she. "Blech...I've been een zhis place too long. Zhis 'as to be one of ze longest converzationz I've 'eld since I came 'ere. I muzt get out more vhen zhis dodgy buzinezz iz over vith - I'm zo much paler zhen I uzed to be. It iz a vonder I am not going crazy at ze moment, hehe."

Vivienne was silent for a few moments, but then, she blinked in realization. What she had said probably made her sound about as sane as a wasp in a shaken jar. She quickly added, "I apologize if I zound a wee bit ztir-crazy. I'm not inzane, honest."

That probably didn't help, either.

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Maybe it was a bad idea that he spoke about the French towns, once the very tall woman had sat down, Joe could just make out a look of disgust from where he was sitting, on her face. Her face darkened even more when he mentioned he was Jewish and panic struck him.

”What’s going to h-happen to me? Your face…when I mentioned that I was Jewish…shit…I’m going to die here aren’t I!” his voice rose to hit panic, not caring really what she said about walls having ears…walls having ears?! what the hell? How could a wall have ears?

Joe was now getting it into his head that he would die any day now. He was naturally a skinny person so that would go down hill fast, getting skinnier and skinnier wasn’t a good thing…his shoes already gave him blisters.

Crazy?! Oh god, was she saying the right thing? Did that mean that he would now be stuck in a crazy place for the rest of his days…she wasn’t insane…did that mean she could be a bit crazy?

”Shit…” he spoke more to himself, his heart was beating faster and faster, ”He’s got me this time…” tears sprung to his eyes, ”I tried to get away from him but he caught up with me!” he brushed away a few tears that had rolled down his cheeks.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

All right...he was panicking. Panicking was never a good thing. If he got too loud, the guards would be very happy to beat him into a bloody pulp. Yes, Jews were killed, but they also could live - Joe just had to be smart. His reaction was one of many that were typical of new inmates. He would just have to learn how to survive in the camps of Germany, starting now.

"Shut up!" barked Vivienne, glaring at the crying soldier. "Do you vant to die 'ere or not? Because iv you continue to blubber, zhey vill not 'esitate to come in and kill you iv you annoy zhem. Whoever 'he' iz, oui, he 'as got you; but, do you vant to allow 'im the joy of zeeing you zquirm in your prizon? I've been 'ere for two, three years, Joe! I've ztayed ztrong! Iv I can do zuch a zhing, zhen you can too! Now be quiet, and ztop crying!"

Vivienne took a moment to catch her breath. She felt a bit winded after her little speech - she had had a rough day, and especially with her heart, she wasn't supposed to wind herself up like that. Licking her lips, the Frenchwoman's hand rose to massage the bridge of her nose in a further attempt to calm herself.

"Now," quietly began Vivienne again after a few moments, "zhere are zhingz you zhould know. Zome of ze zpots on ze walls are veaker zhen otherz, and zhis allowz zomeone to lizten in on either zide. I don't know all ze weak pointz in zhis prizon yet, zo iv you vish to zpeak zecretly, keep your voice low, az I am doing.

"Vhen zhey come to take you to vork, don't do anyzhing ztupid unlezz you know vhat you're doing. I may vight off a number ov guardz, oui, but I 'ave ze ztrength to do zo. Keep quiet, and if you can, do not zhow any zigns of veakness. Do you underztand me, Josef? Do you?"

Hopefully, her words this time would not frighten him, but help him. Joe was in an entirely different world now, one that brought out the worst in people and drove them back to their most basic instincts. Vivienne was a prime example of this; years before, one would not think of her as the type to bite and claw at someone like an animal. However, the ancient myths of savage giants were still alive in the minds of many, and Vivienne could use this to her advantage, taking on the image of a monster so they would leave her alone. Such was one of the many advantages of being born with gigantism.

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Her voice and her tone made Joe jump; she was definitely a person to be respected. He shut up as quickly as he could as he saw her glare. ”Alright, alright!” he said, almost like he was annoyed with the woman who was telling him what to do…he sniffed and stopped the tear that was about to run down his face.

She began again after a few moments of silence, he nodded as she told him to keep his voice as low as possible, he didn’t seem to want to speak any more…he didn’t want to do anything apart from go home…or curl up and die in this very cell…he was already getting cold…maybe he would get frostbite.

”Yes, yes I understand you.” he said, his voice stronger than it had been. ”H-how many of you are in here? Are you all French or all Jews?” he asked, now keeping his voice as lo was he could.

The words she spoke would help him, he was in an entirely different world now…he would have to learn to…to be submissive to his own people…but he was not a German citizen now…he was not worth living…he was scum even though the didn’t see himself as scum.

”What sort of work is done here? What do they make you do?” by they he meant the Nazis. He moved slightly to get into a better position, watching the cell opposite. He bit his lip, not knowing what else to say…he looked up at the ceiling and then over to the small window at the end of the line of cells…moonlight drifted through…hope drifted through that window…freedom and hope.

[Vivienne Rousseau]

Good - he had stopped crying. Now, he was directing his energy towards getting to know his new surroundings. Soldiers were meant to adapt, and if they couldn't, then how could they be a soldier?

"Our numberz vary," replied Vivienne. "Zometimez, zhere may be ten, other timez, zhere may be an 'undred. Zhese Naziz, zhey find more and more people to further zheir own needz; vhen zomeone iz no longer of uze, zhey are killed. We come from all over, Joe; zome of uz are French, zome of uz are Polizh, and you 'eard ze Ruzzian down ze block. Vherever ze Naziz reach, ze people zhere vill be pulled back to zhese campz if zhey do not ezcape.

"Vhile you are 'ere, do not flaunt your religion. Ze Jewz are often rounded up, taken zomewhere god-awful zhat you do not ever vant to zee. Zhey are not alone; ze Gypziez, ze homozexualz and ze crippled all follow, az vell as many otherz. The men of God, ze priestz and ze like, alzo zuffer zuch a fate. Zhere are Chriztianz among uz - I 'ave found many are merciful. Zhey can teach you 'ow to look like one until zhis var iz over; iv ze Nazis ever forget who you are, zhey vill not come after you if you can zay ze right thing."

Vivienne found herself having to pause again. Had she really strained herself so much that day that she was breathless after every few sentences? Nonetheless, Joe had to know. She had to answer his questions so he could defend himself. Not everyone in the camp was merciful; she had heard of prisoners betraying others to save their own skins.

"You vill be called on to do many zhings," continued the giantess. "You vill clean, you vill build, you vill load trucks, and you may even be ordered to carry ze dead. Vhatever ze Nazis vant you to do, zhey vill have you do it. You must try to remain ztrong and do az they zay; if you prove yourzelf uzelezz, zhen zhey vill get rid of you. Zhow zhem 'ow ztrong an Américain can be, and you zhall find yourzelf lezz at ze brunt of zheir wrath."

Once more, the Frenchwoman took a breath.

"Any queztionz?"

[Cpl. Joe Claude]

Numbers vary…like that wasn’t assuring. It made Joe shudder as he heard that if someone wasn’t “of use” then they would be killed…like a horse, if a horse had broken down then that would be shot…the Nazis treated the prisoners like horses…or cattle.

”And Hitler thought he could rule the world did he?” Joe muttered darkly as he thought of the photo of the man with the moustache that had been used as target practice in the barracks or as a dart board in the local pubs.

”Thanks for the advice ma’am.” he was being to sound more like a gentleman than a frightened rabbit in the headlamps, ”But, the Nazis already know my religion and that I am a Jew, they have records of nearly all the soldiers in the American and British armies…some how…I dunno how but they do.” Joe knew he wouldn’t last long in this place if he wasn’t careful…he would have to keep his mouth shut and not be smart…but that would seem difficult for the generally smart and cheeky American soldier.

Vivienne seemed to be running out of breath a slight bit as she spoke, it seemed like she was finding it hard to talk. If that sort of thing happened to a giant like her then it would only take a matter of days for Joe to become breathless, stick thin…he wasn’t looking forward to the next few months if he lived that long.

Joe chuckled slightly, his laughter ringing around the prison. ”How strong I can be? Nah, not that strong…I’m good with machines though…” he whispered the last bit, he was already planning an escape route in his head. Somehow he would get out of here weather it stopped him or not.

”No, no questions…you seem tired as it is so I’ll leave you to it.” he muttered softly, rubbing his now bald head, feeling a rather helplessness now without his brown hair to cover his eyes or hide behind. The scars stretched across his face even more now and he felt ashamed, so bloody ashamed.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod Post

CP:
Viv: 8CP

Joe: 8CP


~Dan