“Reuben’s first mission with the new recruit.”
I blink. The new recruit. From the whispers in the halls and the hushed conversations after everyone thought I’d left the room.
“The Don apparently didn’t like the last guy,” the guard continues. “He got thrown overboard in the chaos and Reuben had to go save him.”
I want to say that’s not what happened, but I can’t.
“This is the replacement. He’s pretty decent from what I’ve heard. Military navy—” he snaps his mouth shut the moment he finally realizes who he’s speaking with, but it’s too late.
My replacement.
My thoughts are so quiet, I can practically hear my pulse beneath my skin.
The house sentries hadn’t been speaking nonsense.
Reuben didn’t like that I’d signed out of the hospital early.
I barely saw the team now because they were always busy.
They’re using the side entrance.
I’m suspended for a long time before the team climbs into the vehicle, and before I can think against it, I’ve moved behind the booth to stay out of sight as they pass by.
When the sound of the vehicle is long gone, I’m still suspended.
‘Replaced.’
The word bounces around in my empty mind, but strangely, I don’t feel anything. No anger, or frustration, or sadness. Just… nothing.
So I go back the way I came. Without a word. Without a sound. I walk the way back to the main gate. Past the house. Towards the east warehouse.
And I haul crates until sunset. Without a break. Without food.
I’ve never needed a break anyway. And I can go without food for a day ortwo before anyone thinks I’m inhuman.
The other labourers try to speak to me, but I’m unable to give a response. And when I’ve run out of work and the sun begins to set, I take on a different errand, and head into the forest to cut a few trees for kindling.
It’s nothing important to be done, but it never is really. By the time I finally take myself up to bed, it’s the early hours of the morning. I have a good wash, change into new clothes for the day, and then I’m back down at the warehouse again. I take a nap until sunrise, take one or two bites of the snack supplies, and then I’m at it again.
Unceasing. Without speaking. Without taking a break.
Until the men are forcibly pulling me away, forcing food into my hand and making me sit. Supervising me while I eat.
I’m able to avoid Reuben for two days like that until he seeks me out, looking positively livid.
I don’t look at him. There’s only the sound of the axe cutting through the wood between us.
“Christian, don’t do this.”
Chop.
“What am I doing?”
“You promised you’d take it easy so you can recover.”
Chop.
“I’m recovering well. There’s no need to worry.”
