It’d only been a few days, and Simon had not looked at himself once. He refused to take the damage of what the IED had done. To look down at what used to be his legs.

The doctors explained the damage; they knew it was a pain they’d never understand. Going from a goddamned lieutenant to a cripple. A burden to the people around him. Simon lost both his legs. Bellow the knee on the right, above the knee on the left.

The first time Simon brought up the courage to look was one of the worst moments of his life. He had to get up, have a nurse shower him after a week of rotting in a hospital bed. A humiliating experience one could have. Seeing his body in such a state, so broken… ruined. Words couldn’t describe it.

But life had to move on. Weeks passed by, he adapted to a legless life, did the mandatory extensive physiotherapy. Started learning how to use his prosthetics, giving himself more freedom each day.

He had moved into a small bungalow, as opposed to his old flat, which was highly inconvenient. But back in his SAS days when he was never home, it was the cheapest place he could have. It felt beyond lonely, living in a nice bungalow … alone. His only human interaction being his medical team.