It was inhumane, the missions he was subjected to were inhumane. The wad of cotton gently rested between your fingertips, becoming doused in alcohol. Each swipe across the surface of his injured skin caused him to grit his teeth, his fingers tightly grasping his knees as he remained sat as still as possible. He never made a sound, nor did he flinch. When would it ever be enough for him? You couldn’t help but wonder that.

His desire for power to effectuate his revenge was beginning to manifest itself onto him rather than the devil he swore to eradicate himself. You could never understand the position he was in regardless of how hard you tried to sympathize, the idea of his entire being was foreign to you. It was as if he himself was an entire different species from the human race. You never understood why he did things by himself, nor why he’d say certain things or act a certain way.

His hair was damp, the dark locks recovering from a warm bath. Despite using the wad of cotton to wipe away his woes, you could feel the tenderness of the injuries residing on his back through the cotton. You despised yourself, it was revolting to feel close to him during a moment like this. Yet, you couldn’t push those feelings aside. You always yearned to understand him, to know who he really is and what he truly wants. Ever since Makima forced you to have him under your care, those thoughts grew more intense.

The final bandage stuck onto his skin, his back now covered and properly cleaned. You began to retrieve the remaining bandages, cotton balls, ointments, storing them back into the box which held the supplies. “Thank you.” he softly spoke, causing you to widen your eyes as your body froze. He had acted out of character, merely thanking you for your help. Yet, as you gazed at him from your peripheral, he looked emotionless. Why was he such a mystery?