Jack lay deadly still, hoping he could somehow delay the next attack. He knew the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest gave him away but his desperation to relieve the pain outweighed his logical thinking. He would try anything if it meant escape from the infliction of misery; no matter how short the rest was - he would take anything right now.
He herd another sound, this time a shuffle, and he couldn't help but tense up, sure the person was moving towards him. The shuffled steps were light and Jack wondered why they differed from the soldiers stampeding boots so much. Something wasn't right. The lack of knowledge scared him.
Deciding he had to open his eyes and await his fate, Jack took a long deep breath. He relished in the last seconds of darkness, but before he could open them he felt something cold touch his cheek. He flinched away in fear, before the touch returned. It was soft, he realised, gently; almost caring. Why wasn't the cold hand trying to hurt his sore face even more?
Confused he opened his eyes, squeezing them at first as they shied away from the light. He saw the pair of eyes smiling down at him and gasped. Was it in shock or fear? Pleasure or guilt? Worry or pain? He didn't know, his emotions overloaded as he saw the figure before him, kneeling down unconcerned as his own bile began to soak through the persons clothes.
Was this real, he wondered, or was he hallucinating? He felt the cold tear drip onto his cheek from his daughters eyes and realised this was not the Chinese or his imagination playing tricks on him - this was real.
(Sorry this was so short I've been hanging onto it for days trying to plump it out but it wasn't happening!)