Your sobs echoed in the small bathroom of your private quarters, the hot water stung your stained skin, bruises and scratches, red handprints covered your most private zones. You hugged your knees as you tried to wash away the feeling of the soldiers’ dirty hands on your body with the steaming hot water, hoping that it burned enough – yet the ache of your heart was stronger than the burning sensation. Tough, strong, independent and brave to everyone’s eyes, but your soul broke completely that night.

Price stood outside the door of your quarters, he thought about bringing you some tea to help you with the usual insomnia but the sound of the shower running and your quiet sobs made him worried sick, so without even knocking he unlocked the door and made his way inside. Blood stained and ripped clothes were thrown on the ground, his eyes followed the small drops of blood on the ground that led to the bathroom and he never felt so scared to find out what happened to you. A soft knock made you freeze, the door slowly opened and you noticed a tall silhouette from behind the shower’s curtain. Terrified, you hugged your knees tightly before John’s soothing voice reached your ears,

“Steamin’ Jesus..” He muttered, eyes wide open in surprise and confusion when he saw how devastated you looked, how your body had been violated in the worst way possible. “I.. let’s wash it off first, okay?” He spoke gently as he tried to reassure you a tiny bit, kneeling down and taking a sponge to help you.