As Sam finished bandaging up her third sprained wrist her thoughts began drifting to her room and her bed. All the other soldiers had to sleep in cramped rooms with around eight beds, or four bunk beds, in each. Sam's room was substantially larger and she was the only one occupying it, and it was also fully furnished, with wardrobe, dresser and a large albeit cracked mirror.

She had questioned this at first, for she didn't feel she was doing anything particularly impressive or important to warrant such a large room. Besides, she spent around fifteen hours of her day in the medical bay anyway so having a living space that was comparatively fancy when compared to her peers was of little use to her.

"You're going to be fine." Sam stated to the man who clearly knew very little English.

He stared at her for a few second like she was an alien before hopping off the bed and leaving the medical bay quickly.

Sam sighed. Most of the soldiers knew very little English, making conversation limited at best. In fact the only two people she knew who spoke English were her boss and some new recruit, a British guy whom her boss had warned her to stay away from. Apparently he wasn't to be trusted.

As she began packing away her equipment she couldn't stifle a massive yawn. It was been difficult to sleep lately, for the air was constantly filled with the sound of machine gun fire and explosions. She had asked her superior why it was so loud all of the time, but he had refused to answer. Sam was beginning to sense a theme: If they had questions for her, she would have to answer them. However if she had questions for them about what was going on around the base they would blank her.

As she wandered out of the medical bay, nodding briefly to the guard who stood outside of it as she passed and receiving a cold stare in response, she yawned once again. She hadn't eaten very much today, just a sandwich that tasted a few days old at least and some cold tomato soup out of a can.

It took her a couple of minutes to navigate the maze of corridors that led to her room, for they all looked exactly the same and there was no map, and along the way she could shake the feeling she was being watched.

It almost felt as though there was a camera trained on her back as she walked, which was impossible considering there were no cameras but alas the feeling would not go away. Before she turned the corner to the corridor where her room was she glanced back briefly, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was following her. She caught a glimpse of a shadow just as it disappeared around a corner back the way she came but that may have had nothing to do with her, it could have simply been a solider moving from one place to another.

Sam sighed once more and entered her room, deciding that she must be paranoid. Usually she entered and fell straight onto her bed, asleep in minutes, but this time she paused for a moment in front of the mirror.

She hadn't really looked at her reflection over the last few months, mostly because she was afraid of what she was going to see. As she had expected she looked worn out, with bags under her eyes and wrinkles that she wasn't expecting to see until she hit her fifties at least. Her skin was dry and cracking in places, not too hard to understand when you're only allowed once cold shower in the morning and you're the only woman on site- she doubted some of these men had even heard of moisturiser for their faces looked worse than her own.

After staring at her reflection for a few moments, trying to ignore how the crack that ran straight through the centre of the mirror and made her face look like it was about to be broken in half, she got changed out of her scrubs and into a t shirt and pants and fell onto her bed.

She was asleep within minutes.

…

"She's asleep."

It had been a clever plan. Isolate Sam Nicholls, torture her until she was barely aware of her own existence and then fill her mind with the knowledge she would need to become a fully fledged member of what she and her brother had fought so hard against.

Better yet, she was working under the man who had planned his demise and faked her own. Sam Nicholls was legally deceased thanks to him. Her boyfriend had apparently fallen into a drunken stupor, and was only a few days away from being homeless. He'd almost laughed when he found out. How pathetic can one human be? Falling apart because of one person's death. Clearly this man had never been in a war.

Planning to integrate Sam into the compound had been a nerve tingling venture. What if she had remembered her other life and sought to kill her boss? What if she escaped and told the English where he was hiding?

Of course this worry had led him to place her under 24 hour surveillance. Sometimes the guards would report her apparent awareness of being followed around the compound, but she appeared to care very little. After all, what could she do even if she was being followed? There was no way for her to prove it and she was under his command, he had every right to send someone to follow her.

"Thank you. Report to me if there any disturbances tonight. And keep an eye on our new British recruit." He replied to the guard that had been instructed to keep an eye on her all day.

Apparently he had even deliberately sprained his wrist so he could get to the medical bay without suspicion. Now that was a man that could be counted upon to go above and beyond in order to ensure his job was done to the highest standard.

Too bad all of his employees were not like this.

…

I'll update again soon :)