I was alone.

Actually alone for the first time in what felt like forever. Water reluctantly splattered onto my head from the groaning shower above me. I sat on the dirty cracked tiles, knees up to my chest to preserve body heat. Or was it to tuck myself away? The water coming off me was filthy. It swirled around and around in a murky brown whirlpool at the drain, and I watched it, fixated; as if it could drain away some of the memories too.

Do I feel ok? The question slithered into my mind before I could bat it away. Of course you're ok. You're safe. It happened. It's done. Move on. Jas is dead. People die. You were lucky. You watched them rape her. They nearly raped you. But they didn't. They didn't. It didn't happen, it was narrowly avoided.

Somehow the image of the attacker's eyes was suddenly all I could see. Block. It. Out. I bit the inside of my cheek hard, too hard probably. But I'd felt the swell of tears approach my eyes and that familiar lump in my throat. Swallow it down.

I rested my head on my knees, knowing I could chew half of my entire face away and I still wouldn't be able to stop the surge of useless emotions from pouring out. It was pointless. Pointless. What was the point in being upset about it all? It happened, I had to live with it. And I would live with it, because you either do, or you don't. I didn't want to die. I shook off the instant memory of the rifle aimed at my throat. That was different. So what was the other choice? Live with it. Get on with it. Life goes on. Shit happens.

Pull yourself together, I told myself sternly as sobs threatened to echo around the small bathroom. I didn't have time for a breakdown now, I needed to clean myself and redress the wounds. Besides I knew someone would be waiting anxiously outside, and the longer I spent in here the more they'd all worry I might have offed myself. I took a big sniff in, and stood up. I swallowed hard, and shoved my face under the lukewarm water. Wash it away.

It worked. I washed my hair, and carefully cleaned my body as gently as possible, being careful not to look. I didn't want to see. A hard knock rattled the door as I turned the water off.

"Everything alright?" A voice came through.

"Yeah fine, sorry I took so long," I tried to speak loudly but my voice cracked. All the screaming must have damaged your voice box.

I dried myself as quickly as I could and put on the T-shirt and boxers Ant had given me. There was no point in putting the trousers on yet; Rav, the medic, had to come and check on how everything was healing. He's going to touch you. I knew he was going to have to touch me. That was fine. He was a professional. You're going to be alone in here with him while he touches you. Even if you had someone else to witness, you'd then be alone with two men. I shoved the ridiculous thoughts away. I was uncomfortable at the thought that Rav's hands would inevitably make contact with my body. But he had to do it, he was a professional, and he was sweet and harmless.

I peeled the door open a little. It was Rav stood outside.

"Hey, you ready for me to give you a check over?" He asked, he seemed a little uncomfortable himself.

"Yes," I looked down and retreated further into the bathroom to give him room to enter.

"We're going to leave the door open, just for... you know," he left his sentence ambiguously. "Were you ok washing yourself? Anything particularly sore?"

"My wrists are very sore still. And my back," I started to glance down to the ends of my arms and then quickly averted them to the wet floor, ignoring the images dancing behind my words. Block. It. Out. Rav took one arm gently and assessed it carefully, then did the same with the other.

"Ok," he exhaled sharply. "Turn around for me and I'm going to lift up the shirt, alright?"

"Yes," I said numbly, and turned slowly. He lifted the shirt and spent a long time looking at my back.

"It looks good. Healing nicely, that's good," he let go of a breath he'd been holding and guided me around to face him.

"Ok. So back looks good, the swelling around your legs, face and ribs has decreased massively and the bruising is really coming out so that's great. This small stitched wound here is from the Thoracostomy, where I had to use a tube to drain air from around the lungs because you had a puncture from rib trauma. But that was really successful and it's healing really nicely." I didn't look down to see it. "Your neck basically was lucky in that the teeth on that wire were quite blunt, so although it looks quite scratched and sore there's no major trauma to the skin or the arteries there or anything, and it's healing well. Overall I'm really happy with the way everything's going, but the one concern for me is your wrists," he cast his eyes down and held one of my hands up again to bring it closer to him.

"It's actually healing around fragments of wire still in there and it's at risk of getting infected unless we get those out. The problem is that would normally be done in a medical environment, but I don't know how long we're going to have to wait to get you to a hospital and I'm..." he searched for the right word. "...Hesitant to leave it much longer."

I let out a shaky sigh. "Do you, I mean... wi-do you have pain relief?" I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't want them to touch it. I refused to look at the nasty wounds there.

"I can give you some local anaesthetic yes," Rav nodded. "That will take away the pain but you'll be awake, you might feel some pressure but there shouldn't be pain." He pressed his lips together and gave a small nod as though an agreement had been made. "You can pop the rest of your clothes on now and we'll do it in the main room, I need to get all the stuff together first." He pulled the door behind him as he left me to dress in privacy. I felt my lip wobble. Stop it. It would be fine. It had to be done. No point in fussing over it.

I pulled on the pair of cargo trousers that Ant had acquired. There were a few essentials left here; dried and tinned food; soap; there was even a case of beer in the bottom of a wardrobe.

I closed the door silently as I walked out towards the main room. Ant and Sonny sat with a deck of cards whilst Rav was pulling out various tools and medication from a colossal backpack on the table. Cairo, the MPC, was sprawled out in front of a small heater, her furry chest sinking in and out rhythmically. I approached the table Rav was working on, avoiding Sonny's gaze. He'd only ask me how I was doing.

I stood in silence for a few minutes, watching Rav take things out and put things back in the cavernous bag. He finally seemed to be satisfied and he hauled the bergen off, sliding it underneath. He wiped down every inch of the table and a nearby chair with wipes he'd pulled from the rucksack.

"It won't hurt?" I confirmed quietly. I'd prefer Ant and Sonny not to hear my wimpish concern.

"No," Rav began assembling things on to the sterilised surface. "Scratch for the injection, bit of discomfort for the actual thing," he positioned the chair parallel to the table. "Ok, you ready?"

"Yeah," I murmured. Sharp scratch, like a blood test. Bit of pulling around. Just don't look.

"You sit here," he took my shoulders gently and manoeuvred me towards the chair. I sat obediently and rested my left forearm on the table. I watched Cairo's frame rise and fall as she slept.

"Ok, local anaesthetic first. Sharp scratch." I was just having a blood test. That was it. They all said the same thing- sharp scratch. Then it's over with. I closed my eyes. I felt contact with my skin and-

"Wakey wakey, wakey wakey that's it! Hey don't panic, don't panic." Laughter rang out from nowhere. "Beautiful. Beautiful. See you started to fade on me, and with one of these," something clattered on to my lap. Can't breathe. Just breathe. Breathe. Fuck. I'm on fire. I'm going to be sick. "You're back to life again. Like magic. So!" Hands clapping, something smacking. Drilling in my head. Can't - stop - shaking. Agh! Pain. My head. "You ready for more?" No. No, no, no. Breathe. "Lay down! You worthless infidel bitch."

Fuck. I pulled my eyes open. Why did I close them? Fuck.

"Paige!" Rav glared at me in confusion and concern. "Everything ok?" He asked. Sonny had stood alert, Ant's body turned around to keep an eye.

"Fine," I lied.

"You're trembling a lot," Rav commented.

"It's just... needles," I explained weakly. Just flashbacks of being tortured.

"All done with the needles for now," he stated. He was very matter of fact, but I liked that about him.

Ant stood suddenly and pulled his chair towards the table. He sat opposite me, awkwardly on the seat that was far too small for his hulking frame. He spread a piece of paper on to the table and drew small lines in a row.

"Hangman. 8 letter word; go," Ant's cool blue eyes penetrated mine. I ignored the tugging feeling coming from my arm.

I blurted out vowels at random, and had an A, I and E in position when a particularly hard yank on my wrist tore my eyes to Rav without thinking. Several tiny fleshy lumps lay on a sheet of tissue on the table, and before I saw the blood I turned back to Ant quickly and swallowed.

"Don't look there," his voice was calm and commanding. "Focus here. Another guess."

"S," I offered, feeling skittish. He's grabbing your wrist. Ant drew the head of the hanged man. "T." He wrote the letter at the front of the word. "H." The hanged man grew a stick body. "C." A stick arm sprouted from his stick body.

"I'm going to do the local in the other wrist now," Rav's voice came from next to me. I chewed the inside of my mouth and stared at the hanged stick man with one limb so hard I could have burned a hole through the paper.

"G," I said with determination. The G took it's position before the I.

"R." Another stick arm was attached.

"Sharp scratch."

I closed my eyes. Do. Not. Close. Your. Eyes. I bit my lip and stared at the hanging legless body.

"M." The hanged man had one leg. I wasn't even playing, I couldn't even see the letters or what word they might have made. I tasted blood and realised I'd bitten right through the tender flesh on the inside of my lip.

"D." The hanged man was complete. Tears sprouted as the needle hit my wrist and I fought them back with everything I had.

"Hey, hey," Ant commanded my attention with a quietly assertive voice. He reached out and held my shoulder, fixing his pools of ice blue at me intently. I looked up for the first time. I needed guidance. I needed support. I wanted so badly to not mind feeling weak, to not feel this sickness in the pit of my stomach at the thought of needing someone. I felt helpless.

"You're ok," Ant nodded slowly as if he could hypnotise me into believing it. I shook my head reluctantly as a few tears silently escaped. The cold liquid invaded my veins. I breathed out shakily as tears smattered on to the paper.

The hanged man stared at me, his empty white head faceless. His stick limbs splayed out at awkward angles, the rope suspending his body. I tasted fresh blood again, that white vacant circle burning my eyes. The useless body dangling in defeat. It's you.