ELEANOR . NEGAN

079.

"You believe in God?"

Elle remembered how she got here. Minutes after they beat her into a bloody pulp, the cut on her face opened and a new bruise around her eye. One of the soldiers, Carver, remembered how she smiled under their pain even when they broke her finger. How she laughed when they doused her with water, how she kept making jokes about the army when they dragged blades along the visibility on her arms.

"Did you hear about the karate master who joined the army? He saluted and nearly chopped his head off!"

Even when they dragged the blade further down her arms, blood dripping down her pale skin and lacing with her tattoos, she didn't strive away.

"What do you get when you drop a piano on an Army officer? A flat major."

It was a blessing in disguise when Leah came back and ordered everyone to leave her. The blonde woman running a wet cloth along her arms and wrapping them with bandages. Elle watched carefully at her face, there was something in her eyes; secretive. When Elle smirked and cleared her throat, saying: "What do you call a traitor with a lisp? Judith." Leah harshly grabbed her up onto her feet and pulled her through darkened and hollow hallways.

When Leah chucked her into a dark room and locked the door behind, Elle found herself limping towards a man. His face lit under the glow of a lantern, a careful grin on his face. And then he asked her:

"You believe in God?"

If Eleanor knew her closest friend was stood where she was moments before, maybe she would've flipped her shit.

"No." Elle narrowed her eyes. The man was stocky and beady. A hat on his head that didn't even cover his ears and silver-rimmed glasses resting on his nose.

The man twisted his head dauntingly, brown eyes skating over her body with interest. Her face was still bleeding yet she still held herself together. "Sit down."

"Thank Fuck," Elle staggered towards a small settee that was covered with blankets and rough pillows. She watched as the man grabbed a bottle of alcohol and filled two glasses, pushing one to the end of a table with his finger. Elle didn't wait for permission, she grabbed it and took one sip before pouring the rest down her cheek. Not risking a fucking infection.

"You've been talk of the town, Solider." Elle snapped her eyes his way. "Jokes about your squad like it was nothing but pain. Been told they were quite humorous-"

"I'm a humorous fucking person." She spat. "If you're trying to get me to blab by having a nice ol' chit-chat, then think a-fucking-gain."

The man chuckled. "No. We know you wouldn't."

Elle narrowed her eyes. "Yet you torture me anyway." She kissed her teeth, "Goes against the army word, does it not?"

"Ah," He exhaled, "You know the code?" He cleared his throat, "If in command, I will never surrender the members of my command-"

"I don't need to hear it." Eleanor snapped. "US was very different to the UK, no? Pretty sure there was a squad of 25 Brits and Afghan, but maybe about five of you."

He smirked. "I see now. You were not just some runt stuck in basic, was you?"

"No, I wasn't." Elle looked at him behind the shades of his glasses. "I've seen it all, Soldier. So have you. Only difference now is you're drinking rum, and I'm bleeding into your seats."