You stood in the bathroom, water running as you vigorously scrubbed at your hands, a blank yet stressed look on your face as you stared at your reddened hands, unaware to the fact the 141 all stood outside the bathroom in silence.

It had been necessary what you did. The civilian had attacked you, so you had to defend yourself. Those thoughts didn't help you to forget the look on his face, his blood on your hands.

You felt sick. You felt empty. You needed to be clean.