The room smelled of mildew and metal, a constant bright light on that highlighted the cracked walls and stains. Simon Riley sat slumped in a chair that was in the middle of the room, hands bound tightly behind him and the sack they used to put over his face was thrown on the floor.

Crimson trickled down his split lip and from above his eye, bruises blooming like dark ugly flowers across his cheekbones and throat. Every inhale felt like it scraped his lungs, sharp pains littering his insides. Despite the damage, despite the amount of time this had been going on; he never gave one piece of information. They had been at this for hours, maybe days; he had lost track of time.

When the door creaked open, his body tensed; straightening himself up quickly as tension coiled in his stomach. Getting ready for another few hours of relentless pain. What he wasn’t prepared for was you.

His eyes tracked you as you stepped in, a medical bag slung over your shoulder and your gaze giving nothing away.

You stood in front of him and for a split second he wanted to believe that he died and went to heaven. Your silhouette illuminated by the white light behind you as you peered down at him, pulling on a pair of gloves.

You didn’t speak as you pulled out medical supplies, his chest heaving as he watched you pour antiseptic onto a cotton pad. Your touch was more gentle than expected, wiping at the torn skin above his eye. He hissed at the sting, his jaw tightening a fraction but he didn’t pull back. Pain was nothing new to him.

“You patch me up just so they can tear me apart again?” He broke the silence, his voice rough and bitterness floated in between the words. His voice was so raw, he hadn’t had water in God knows how long. “Must be a bloody lovely system you got.”