Mission Gone Wrong

Chapter 5

"How did he know? And why?" I trail off as I realize that I'm wasting time trying to answer useless questions that won't do anything to help my situation.

You really don't need to take off your shirt, LB. He said he wasn't going to come back down, but what if he breaks his word and does. Or, what if he sends someone else down. It's not worth the risk.

Yeah, and it's going to be incredibly hard to clean you back like that.

No less hard than it'd be without it.

Okay, what about the shirt? He'll be expecting you to wear it.

I could put it on afterwards, and leave this one out to dry, so, if this happens again, I can always have a cleanish, dry shirt to wear afterwards.

I slowly soak the rag in the saltwater then ring it out, before reaching behind me, and tracing it over my shoulders.

I close my eyes and hiss at the pain as it hits the wounds on my shoulder blades.

I take the rag off, and soak it in saltwater, not wanting to look at how the water turns a slight pinkish color, and the rag is going to be stained with blood before this is over.

I keep it up, ignoring the pain that my body is going through, gritting my teeth in places, and adjusting the angles of my arm to reach others, until, finally, it's done. I feel like passing out and extremely light headed, but I'm done.

You should have kept track of time, LB. Then you would know if it's safe to change or not.

Oh, come on. It only takes a few seconds to change, I'll be fine.

Yeah, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that it's sloppy and a newbie move not to keep track of time. And newbies wouldn't survive this situation, so you need to stop acting and thinking like one.

Before my mind can delve down that rabbit hole, thinking of every way I've messed up on this mission, I gingerly pry my shirt off, hissing as it tries to stick to my skin in places, before placing it down and putting the new one on.

I inspect my old shirt, and get worried about that state that it's in, considering it was my favorite shirt.

Well, ex-favorite shirt. The only thing that can be useful for now is rags. I mean, there's more holes in the back than fabric covering it, the fabric that is there is stained blood-red instead of the sea blue color it should be, and there's grim all over the front of it.

I wonder what state my back is in? I know it's in pain, but it felt like the wounds had scabbed over when I was running the rag down them, which is a good thing. And, if they were infected, I'd be showing some signs, which sure I am, but they're most likely signs of other things and not infection.

Still, it has to be shredded, and it's going to scar. Though, what are a few more physical scars? I already have a body full of them?

At least, if I get any more wounds, I can attempt to use the shirt as bandages for them. I mean, yes, it's dirty, and might get them infected, but it'll be better than nothing. That or chest bindings.

I'm drawn out of my thoughts by his stomping down the stairs, letting me know that he's coming down.

Guess he's really devoted to this gentleman act of his. Warning me that he's coming down so I can cover up in case I'm shirtless. I wonder how long it'll be before he completely abandons it, showing his true colors?

He looks at me inspecting, before smiling, "Perfect."

Then, he does something I don't expect in the least. He unlocks my cell, and opens the door, but doesn't enter, he just looks at me, and says, "Let's go,"