*TW*

Self harm

Chapter 6

A week passed by slowly, and the camp routine gradually returned to normal, but still a dark cloud hung overhead. Without Colonel Hogan, it just wasn't the same. His absence left a huge hole not just in the lives of his immediate friends and Maisie, but also the rest of the people at Stalag 13. Both prisoners and Germans felt his absence greatly, a cloud of sadness and despair lingering over the camp. His death had affected every person in some way, especially those who had been close to him.

It was Maisie, however, who was grieved most of his passing. After the memorial they held in his honour, the teen had slipped further into depression. She refused to speak to anyone, refused to eat, and hardly drank anything. Even Carter, who had been able to reach her before, was at a loss to help her. She'd shut down, she'd shut out the world. The only thing she did was lay on the bottom bed of the colonel's bunk, hugging his jacket. Each of Hogan's men were greatly concerned about her. Even old Schultz had tried to get through to her without any success. It was as if her soul had died along with Colonel Hogan.

For Newkirk, the week had consisted of doing his best (with Kinch's help) to keep the camp running in order. With the morale of the men at an all time low, trouble hadn't taken long in breaking out. Fights had erupted, Klink's cooler was full for the first time he could remember. There were threats of riots, breaking out, and even the guards were anxious. Klink didn't know what to do, having called in extra reinforcements to try and quench any uprising. It had been one hell of a nightmare already, and it wasn't going to improve any time soon.

London had been notified and offered their deepest sympathies, but that did little to help the grieving men. Not only had they lost their commanding officer, they'd lost their best friend. For Carter, Hogan had become like a father to him. Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk had a different kind of relationship with him, but they were just as much affected as Carter was. Then there was the ever present worry of Maisie and what they were going to do with her.

The operation had come to a screeching halt, not a single mission had been undertaken since Maisie had single handedly blown the refinery. The Underground had been running as best they could while they were out of action, but London was anxious for them to be back in business once more. A new officer had been promised to arrive by the end of the week, a fact that none of the men were enthusiastic about. In their eyes, there could never be another Colonel Hogan.

The barracks were still and quiet, Newkirk staring absentmindedly at the blank page of his notepad. He'd been trying unsuccessfully to compose a letter home for the last hour, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't think of a single thing to write. His mind was too full of worry for Maisie. Colonel Hogan had trusted her to me, and I can't even look after her, he thought to himself, fiddling with the pencil in his hand. I can't even keep the last order the G'vnor gave to me.

He looked down at Kinch, the radioman working on some project at the table. LeBeau and Carter had both gone out to do the laundry, the rest of their barracks mates doing something within the compound. The sound of the silence was deafening in his ears. With a sigh, he closed the notepad and sat up on the bunk, looking towards the closed door of the colonel's room.

Maisie hadn't stepped foot out of there since his death, the teen drowning so deep in sorrow and grief that no matter what they tried, nothing seemed to work. Luckily for them, though, she hadn't been found by the guards. They'd been able to convince them that they didn't wish the room to be opened. When the new POW officer arriving soon, however, she would have to leave. He didn't have the heart to tell her that yet. He'd guessed that being in Hogan's room brought some kind of comfort to the girl, but he wished there was more he could do.

'You been to check on Maisie?'

Kinch's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he climbed down off his bunk. 'I was just about to go see her.' He replied. 'I just wish I could get through to her…'

'You're doing the best you can. That's all Colonel Hogan ever expected.'

'Kind of you to remind me.'

'It's true. I'm sure you'll think of something.'

'I wish I had the bloody confidence you put in me for myself.' Newkirk sighed heavily, then started for the door. Perhaps this time she would listen.

He opened the door, looking towards the bed and frowned. The teen wasn't on the bunk. After a moment, he found her sitting on the floor in the far corner and stepped towards her. Blood trickled down her arms.

He watched in horror as Maisie again brought the razor to her skin, blood welling from the cut she made. Oh God! He hurried to her, taking a hold of her hand. His eyes widened as he saw the extent of the injuries she'd inflicted upon herself. Oh, bloody hell!

'Kinch!' He shouted, as he took the razor from her hand, the teen staring straight past him with soulless eyes. 'Kinch!'

Kinch hurried to the doorway. 'What's wrong?'

'Go find Wilson. Get him over here, quick.'

The radioman didn't ask questions, just quickly disappeared, and he heard the barracks door close firmly as he headed out. He turned back to Maisie, taking a handkerchief to wrap around her bleeding wounds. Her arms were covered in scratches from her wrists to her shoulders, some like the one he was trying to stop bleeding being quite deep. But Maisie made no acknowledgement of his presence.

My god, child. Newkirk was in shock, horrified that someone would do something like this to themselves. He wondered for a moment where she had gotten the razor from, then realized it had to have been Hogan's. He held the handkerchief to the worst wounds, the white material quickly turning crimson. Her arms were covered in both dried and fresh blood, some having dripped onto the floor. She'd done this to herself. He looked around the room, quickly finding a tea towel he could use to try and stem the bleeding. 'Oh, little mate….' Newkirk said softly, with emotion, Maisie still staring off into the distance. Why she had done this to herself he couldn't understand, but he had a feeling that none of them had any idea just the heartache she was going through. 'Maisie, sweetheart…'

'I'm sorry, Newkirk…' she apologized, after a moment, finally becoming aware of his presence. She felt numb. So numb. For the first time since Hogan had died, she didn't feel any pain. She just felt numb. Her gaze shifted from looking at her arms to Newkirk. 'I didn't want anyone to see this…'

'Why, Maisie? Why did you do it?'

She gave no answer, instead turning away from him again, staring off into the distance.

Newkirk sat there beside her in the silence, the bleeding finally easing off when he removed his hand to check. You did this to yourself, he questioned in his mind, shock and horror filling his body at the sight he witnessed. Why? Why did she do this to herself? After some time, it finally dawned on him. Her grief. God, sweetheart, Colonel Hogan wouldn't wish you to do this to yourself...

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Kinch returned with Wilson. Newkirk moved aside so the medic could get in, but stayed close to her.

'What happened?' Wilson questioned, after he'd glanced over the girl's injuries.

'Walked in on her cutting herself with a razor.' Newkirk replied soberly. 'Is it bad?'

'Not too bad. It looks a lot worse than it really is. Why don't you wait outside? I'll take care of her.'

He nodded after a moment. 'Thanks, mate. Kinch-' He motioned for the radioman to follow him, and they left Hogan's room, closing the door behind them.

Kinch turned to Newkirk. 'What happened in there?'

'Maisie was using the G'vnor's razor to cut herself.'

'She what?' He questioned, his voice just above a whisper. 'Why?'

'I'd take a guess it's from grief. She loved Colonel Hogan so much, it's her way of dealing with the pain of losing him.'

'By cutting herself?'

Newkirk nodded sadly.

Kinch shook his head in disbelief. 'What are we going to do?'

'I don't know.' He looked back towards the closed door. 'Somehow we'll find a way to help her.'

Wilson emerged from the colonel's room sometime later, Kinch and Newkirk sitting at the table drinking coffee. He placed his bag down on the table and helped himself to a cup, then sat down with them. 'I'm glad you both are here. I need to have a little chat with you about Maisie.'

'How is my little mate?' Newkirk asked, placing his cup down. 'I sure wasn't expecting what I just saw.'

'I've given her a sedative. She'll be out for some time. She needs the rest. I hardly think she's slept at all the past two weeks.'

'You'd be right, there.' Kinch agreed, with concern in his voice. 'No matter what we've tried, she just won't respond to anything.'

'She doesn't eat-' Newkirk continued. 'Hardly drinks. All she does is lie on that bed and cry. I'm at a loss of knowing what to do with her.'

Wilson took a sip of his coffee before replying. 'Losing Colonel Hogan has hit her hard, there's no denying that.'

'But what do we do about it?'

'There's nothing we can do, really. Grief is an individual process. It's different for each person. It's something that she's going to have to work through on her own.'

'But the cutting-' Kinch frowned. 'What if she keeps that up?'

'That's what I wanted to speak with you both about. You didn't know about that, did you?' Both of them shook their heads. Wilson sighed, then started to explain about her condition. 'I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you. When I examined her when she first arrived, I found she had extensive scarring on her legs. Basically scratch marks, but they had scarred. In confidence, she spoke to me about her habit. When she lost her parents, she began to cut herself to take the pain she felt inside her out on herself. It became an outlet for her. She wanted to hurt herself so she didn't have to focus on the pain of losing her family.'

'Blimey.' Newkirk shook his head. 'Poor little kid.'

'Is there anything we can do?' Kinch questioned.

'I've had the chance to read some psychology books back in medical school, and they briefly covered 'self harm'. The term for this kind of behavior. There is no medical cure for it. It's a mental condition. I can treat her wounds, but the root cause of the problem needs to be addressed.'

'Colonel Hogan's death.' Newkirk interjected.

'Yes. Right now, Maisie needs comfort. She needs to know that what she's experiencing is alright. She needs a chance to channel her grief in an appropriate manner. It's not just her arms that she has cut. For the past two weeks, she has been cutting her legs, too. I'm honestly surprised that she hasn't developed an infection.'

Kinch went to the stove, pouring himself another cup of coffee. 'What can we do, though? How do we help her?'

'Keep a close watch over her. Don't leave her alone. Talk to her, sing to her, heck, anything. Anything at all. If she attempts to self harm herself, offer her something else to do, instead. Draw a picture, talk about her feelings.' He glanced back at Newkirk as Kinch returned to the table. 'It's going to be hard work, there's no denying that. Colonel Hogan knew about her cutting. She did stop the habit, but now with his death, she's started again.'

'And her not eating?'

'Persistence. Even if it's just a few mouthfuls. She's got to get out of the rut she is in. I won't lie to you, gentlemen. If she continues to worsen, she's either going to grieve herself to death or she might attemp suicide again. You might lose her, too.'

Newkirk pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

'I know this is a lot to digest-' Wilson continued. 'But for Maisie's sake, you need to understand what you are dealing with. I wish I could offer more help. I know that having this on top of everything you're already dealing with is going to be a challenge.'

'Nothin' I can't handle.' He sighed heavily. 'Thanks for coming over. I'll take what you've told us into consideration.'

The medic nodded, finishing off his coffee, then stood. 'If you need any further assistance, I'll help the best I can. Maisie will look after her wounds. I've given her the necessary items. They should heal in a week or so, but her mental state will take longer to improve.'

'We'll do the best we can.' Kinch replied, and Wilson left the barracks. He turned back to Newkirk, swirling the remainder of his coffee around in the cup. 'What do we do now, Newkirk?'

Newkirk stood, heading back to the colonel's room. 'Try harder.'

'Ay, take it easy, little mate-'

Maisie's eyes flew open, her breath coming in short gasps as she awoke from a nightmare.

'Bad dream?' Newkirk questioned, his hand on her shoulder.

'Yeah.' She replied, slowly calming down. She looked over at him. 'What are you doing here? It must be after midnight.'

'Keeping an eye on my favorite little mate.'

'I don't need a babysitter-'

'No, you might not, but unfortunately, you are stuck with me. I'm not leaving you.'

'You're as annoying as Papa was.' Her expression sobered. 'He never let up. He wouldn't leave me.'

'And I'm not going to leave you.' He sat down on the mattress beside her, tucking a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. 'You get any sleep?'

'Best sleep I've had since…' Her voice trailed off. 'I'm sorry you had to witness what you saw earlier, Newkirk. I don't know what came over me. I'm normally in control, but this afternoon… I just cut and cut and cut. I didn't even realize what I'd done.'

Newkirk stroked her cheek gently. 'Why did you do it?'

'I don't know… It just hurts so much in here-' She motioned to her heart. 'I just want to cause myself pain. I don't expect you to understand.'

'Did Colonel Hogan know about it?'

'He did.' Maisie replied sadly. 'Papa didn't judge me or say things. He just helped me feel better inside, and gradually, I was able to stop. Until now, that is.'

'You know, you really had me scared seeing you like that earlier. I didn't know what had happened.'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to see it.'

'I know you're missin' Colonel Hogan something dreadfully, but do you think he'd want you to hurt yourself because he's gone?'

Maisie sadly shook her head. 'No. He wouldn't.'

'No, he wouldn't. Correct.'

'You weren't the only one I scared today-' She continued. 'I scared myself. I've never lost control like I did. I just kept going deeper and deeper…' Her voice wavered a little. 'I couldn't stop. The more I cut, the more my heart numbed. I just wanted the pain inside to stop…'

Newkirk stroked her cheek gently. 'I know, little mate. That pain you're feeling, that will ease in time, but hurting yourself isn't the way it'll happen.'

'How are you coping with Papa's death?'

'I'll be frankly honest. I'm not doing so well, either. He was the best officer I've ever served under, and now I have to live up to what he created. I have to take his place. I can't live up to him. I can't even look after you when he left you to my care. I've let him down…'

Maisie got up, slipping her arm over his shoulder. 'No, you haven't, Newkirk. You've kept Papa's team together, you've kept the camp running. That's all Papa would have expected from you. As for me-' She sighed. 'That's not on you, it's on me. I'm responsible for my actions, not you.'

'How do you know what I need to hear?'

She smiled sadly. 'Because I know what other people's pain is like. Don't blame yourself. Papa would be proud of how you've taken care of things.'

'And if I don't blame myself, will you at least try not to hurt yourself again?'

'I'll do my best. I can't promise, but I will try.'

'That's all I ask.' He replied gently.

'I really did scare myself-' Maisie continued. 'If you hadn't come in when you did…. Papa wouldn't want me to kill myself. He didn't let me when I wanted to end my life. I could have cut myself really bad. I don't want to do that. I know you all have enough to deal with without losing me, too.'

Newkirk was greatly relieved hearing that come from her. Thank God for that. 'You don't know how relieved I am to hear that. I've been so worried about you contemplating suicide, little mate.'

'You have my promise that I will not take my life.' She replied firmly. 'Papa wouldn't want me to die because he was killed. I know that. I just… I miss him so much…'

'I miss him, too...we all do.'

'And I haven't been there for you or anyone else. I've just been so consumed with my own grief I didn't think of how you all were coping. I'm sorry.'

'It's alright, hon. You don't need to apologize.'

'But I do. I've just created more problems-'

He put a finger to her lips. 'What matters is that you've acknowledged it, and you're going to move forward. Forgot the rest, okay?'

She smiled sadly. 'Deal.'

'Now, I don't know about you-' Newkirk stifled a yawn. 'But I'm about ready for some shut eye.'

'Could you sing me a song?'

'Me? Sing?' He scoffed. 'If I sing, there'll be a mass escape from here, both prisoners and Germans.'

She giggled softly. 'You can't be that bad. Papa said you were pretty good.'

'Oh, he did, did he?'

'You wouldn't want me to think Papa lied to me, do you?'

Newkirk sighed. 'No, I guess I can't. Alright-' He helped her lie down and tucked the blankets back around her. 'What do you want me to sing?'

'Papa always sang 'You Are My Sunshine'. Do you know it?'

He nodded. 'I've heard of it.'

'Could you sing it, please?'

He smiled a little as he gave in to her request. 'Alright, just for this once. Deal?'

'Deal.'

Newkirk cleared his throat, tucking the girl's fringe back behind her ear. 'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…'