𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞; eugene roe ✔

PART SIX

Word count; 2,425

Valentina

"It does seem that way."

"How come?"

I sat next to him on the parapet, dragging my skirt beneath my hamstrings. We would drop the subject then and there.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I stared at him - at the white stripe on his bicep which carried a red cross, at the circles around his eyes, his dry lips. My eyes dropped, realising I was gaping, to his hands. He held them in front of him, clasped together. His nailbeds were crammed with dirt, his fingers stained from grime. And then, amongst the filth, the dry reminences of blood. Once upon a time, I could picture him washing his palms vigorously, trying to destroy the horrific evidence of what he had been through, but now it leaves him with no bother. To wash them would mean to witness them become dirty once more; there wasn't a point in it anymore; it would only add to the dry, raw, calloused skin that the weather left behind.

I don't know what propelled me to say it: "Liebgott."

"Liebgott?" His brows furrowed. "What has he done?"

"More what have I done." I smiled gently. "But it does not matter. It only reminds me."

"Of?"

I was staring at him again, examining his dark eyes which, at this angle, were pools of even darker honey.

"Nothing." I breathed, my heart pounding against my chest. "You are the doctor?"

He cleared his throat, "I'm going to need you to tell me why you need morphine."

There was silence between us, a hesitation. My eyes wandered and landed on Teo, who was eating a slice of bread with some type of sauce on it - although most likely bitter and tasteless, the variety was welcomed.

"It's very strong." He cleared his throat again. "I normally give it to men who have limbs blown off or those lucky enough to be pierced by a bullet."

"I cannot tell you."

Eugene saw how my stare remained on Teo and I shook my head. Despite the many, many nights he would lay awake in torturing agony, nothing of which he experienced needed morphine.

"Forget it."

He sighed, digging his hands into his pockets, "Are you sure? I will give you some, but I just need you to tell me."

"I..."

"Or show me. Then maybe I can find something better. Morphine doesn't help everything."

I couldn't speak and he assumed I was confused, overwhelmed perhaps.

Eugene brought his palms to his eyelids, "Sorry. I'm so tired."

"Why do you not go and find a bed?"

He chuckled, "All the good ones are gone. And, orders to be here."

I hummed in agreement, my view travelling to the clusters of men wrestling on the ground. Liebgott was a part of it now, fumbling between the commotion like he was trying to stop it yet propell it too. My heart wouldn't stop falling, the urge to throw up becoming ever so more present.

"Hey, hey-" Eugene leant forward so our views could collide.

I didn't realise I had started to cry until he spoke. Swiftly, I rubbed away my eyes.

"Ain't no need for that."

"Liebgott said to talk to you." I spoke quickly, sniffing every now and then. "But I can't."