A/N: Heyyy omj I am so sorry it's been so long I've had a lot of stuff going on like mocks and death in the form of exam stress and being ill at Christmas -_-
So yeah, sorry it just took me really long to finish the chapter...
Chapter 46:
Sleep was something that normally came easily to Cris but that night she was restless. She tossed and turned repeatedly only to remember, the hard way, that her back was raw, sore and bloody.
Recent events had caused her the sleepless night, laying on her front, staring at the seams of the silk pillow. The best was overly soft as well which made her think that it was overcompensating for her situation.
Plus it didn't help that she was woken up at the early, fresh hours of 4am, with a bucket of ice water poured onto her.
The freezing water was emptied onto her head and shoulders, waking her up immediately and harshly. She sat up quickly, despite the pains in her back, and the awkwardness of sitting up from laying on her stomach. Groaning quietly, she looked to her side to see who the idiot was who gave her such a rude awakening.
As she did, any protests fell silent.
Droplets trickled down her reddened cheeks and slid down her jaw, falling from her chin and onto her lap. Blinking away any blurriness left by her water coated lashes, she peered through them to see the elder man standing with perfect posture, grinning like a Cheshire cat and an empty bucket in his hands.
"Get up," Meredydd ordered looking down at his daughter with a rather sinister smile. Cris threw the sodden covers off of her shivering body, and she could definitely say that the fresh cold morning air on her bare skin wasn't a welcome feeling.
Cris stood up back straight, and aching, as her father looked her up and down as if assessing her. That act alone sent another rack of shiver through her body.
"You've got until 0430, that's half an hour," He spoke the last part in a patronising tone, as if she were stupid. "I expect you to be ready, dressed in gear and standing to attention at the bottom of the staircase by this time. Do you understand?" He asked in a commanding time that told her that no wasn't an answer.
She nodded not wanting to say anything.
"You'll find the gear in the wardrobe," Meredydd pointed to the large ornate oak wardrobe standing in the corner of the room, Cris took a quick glance at the aforementioned object, making sure to keep her father in her peripheral vision, before turning back to the man that was supposedly her father.
"Don't be late," He said promptly before leaving the room. Only when the door shut and she could hear the heavy footsteps of the man wearing combat boots, leaving, did she let out the breathe she was holding.
Looking down at her wet form, she realised that she was now wearing a plain grey t-shirt, which was way too big for her and hung loosely on her slim but not small body, and a pair of loose black jogging bottoms that were only held up on her hips due to the white drawstring being tightly tied at her front.
Not creepy at all, she thought sarcastically, thinking it was a bit, well very, weird that someone else had changed her clothes… when she was unconscious.
Cris pushed some of the wet strands of hair out of her face before slowly strolling towards the wardrobe, as if it were a wild animal. She tentatively reached out a shaking hand towards the handle and gently opened one of the doors.
Her eyes widened seeing the contents and she flung open the other door. Eyeing the clothes neatly folded at the bottom and hung up on a coat hanger, she let out a little groan realising her father's intentions.
Cris pulled out the green camouflage khaki trouser, holding them to herself, seeing they were a perfect fit. Chucking them on the bed, she then pulled out the rest of the clothing which consisted of a dark green t-shirt, a jacket that matched the trousers, a pair of black leather, thick soled military boot, a fresh pair of underwear and a black sports bra.
Those last two items made even more cold shivers sending tsunamis throughout her body because it was honestly creepy. It was slightly creepier that all these fitted perfectly.
Cris had managed to find a towel and a hair dryer so she dried herself off and blasted her hair with warm air, making sure it was dry before tying it up in a high ponytail with two of the black hairbands she found on the bedside table.
She only just managed to redress the bandages with the fresh set she found next to the hairbands on the bedside table. It was fair to say she struggled by herself and the result was a little bit sloppy but it was tight enough to hold and it did its job, so she didn't try to redo it.
When she was finished getting changed she looked in the mirror and couldn't help but compare herself to a soldier because that was exactly what she looked like. She looked like the perfect little soldier and she hated it.
She didn't want to be a soldier. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to kill.
But Cris had a feeling that was exactly what she was going to have to do.
o.0.o
The wind battered her body as she stood, her body straight and her hands clasped behind her back. They were now outside in the cold morning air and to say it was windy was an understatement. Her hair flew in every direction as the wind forced it into the air.
Cris was currently standing in a line of well-built men who were wearing the same thing as she was and standing the exact same way. There were only about 10 people in the line including Cris and Rhys, who was standing, almost protectively, next to her.
The other 8 men were all much taller than her, not one being shorter, and they were all heavily built and packed with muscle. So much so it made Cris think if a lorry ran into these men it would be the lorry with a massive dent in it.
Cris only looked forward as her father, or as he made the group call him 'General', belted out a insanely long, useless speech to the group. She found it hard not to finch as the 'General' paced along the line of men, screaming and spitting at each of them as he passed.
She had to admit it was hard to not admit out loud that he could really use a mint and refrain from wiping the spit that was splattered across her face.
"Each one of you have proven your worth in different ways and that is why you are here today. You ten are the best and dare I say brightest squadron Wales has to offer,"
Cris fought hard not to scoff at that, then why the hell am I here?
"Today you will train. I expect you to work your hardest in every aspect of training. I also expect you to demonstrate courage, bravery, determination and teamwork. If you don't then why in God's name are you here" He shouted and Cris couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't lost his voice by now.
"You have all been in this army for varying amounts of time but if you have been here longer that doesn't mean you are better than those who haven't," Meredydd finished finally stepping back so that he wasn't 5cm away from everyone anymore.
"First off we will test your skills in hand to hand combat. The one to either knock the other off the mat or unconscious, will win that round. The only rule is that no weapons are allowed. First up is Crisiant and Thomas,"
Of course I'd be first.
Cris shrugged her jacket off, watching Thomas, probably the biggest guy in there, do the same. Thomas frowned slightly at the sight of her. He most likely didn't want to fight her but the tension in his shoulder told her he was conflicted as he most likely didn't want to get on the bad side of her father.
Cris knew any punishment inflicted by him wouldn't exactly be humane. Example A being her back.
They both stepped onto the mat and just stood there, neither one wanting to make the first move. The other mem had gathered around the mat, watching closely. Most of them looked as if they didn't want to watch the small girl get pummelled.
While Cris appreciated the concern, she hated the misplaced pity.
Cris took a quick look around her eyes eventually falling onto he father, who smirked back and crossed his arms making him look very intimidating.
"Nid oes gennym drwy'r dydd. Hi Beat i mwydion!" The General barked, in welsh. Cris understood this even though she wished she didn't and she was pretty sure Meredydd didn't know she knew this.
Cris sighed, looking her opponent in the eyes. She lunged forward too quickly for him to take it on properly, and when she was close enough she lifted her left leg, bent in and balanced on her right leg before sending her knee straight into the side of the man.
She could hear his grunt as she followed through on her kick causing the man to fly to the side. His body slid across the mat, but not quite off of it.
Cris masked the small amount of pain that flooded her knee instead choosing put her foot back on the floor so she could balance better.
Unfortunately what she did really seemed to piss Thomas off, as he got off the floor with an animalistic growl and launched at her. Cris was so shocked by this change of personality she didn't even see his fist before it collided with her jaw.
It was a powerful punch and it made her jaw explode with pain. When he followed through with the punch, Cris turned her head to the side and spat a mixture of saliva and blood.
Cris was now angry, not only at herself for getting punched or Thomas for punching her but she was ultimately angry with Meredydd.
What kind of sick bastard does this sort of thing?
She looked over to her father shortly to see that sick twisted grin cemented to his face, and then looked back to Thomas who looked shocked, and slightly appalled at what he had just done. Cris decided she had enough of this and quickly sent her toe plummeting towards Thomas' temple.
She had to admit this was a bit of a stretch even for her as the man before her was a lot taller than her but she just managed to hit the spot on the side of his head which made Thomas fall to the floor, unconscious.
His body hit the floor with a heavy thump and all the cheers and jeers immediately stopped as everyone turned and looked at the 16 year old girl standing rather sheepishly in the middle of the mat.
Their faces that had been full of shock had turned to awe and then to weariness.
Cris had never felt so bad about herself. So self-conscious. So horrible.
She realised then that maybe she wasn't so different from her dad than she thought.
Translations:
"Nid oes gennym drwy'r dydd. Hi Beat i mwydion." – We don't have all day. Beat her to a pulp.
