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The day starts off with the reveille, bright and early. Then, we make our beds and tidy our barrack before Reznik comes in to scream at us. Zombie tells me that he enjoys screaming. I don't doubt it at all.
Reznik makes an appearance a few moments later. We're all standing in front of our bunks— Teacup is next to me and her hair is down around her shoulders and I know what is coming.
"What the hell is this?" Reznik stands in front of the young girl now. He picks up a tuft of her gold hair and yanks. She gasps. Gets back into position before he can yell at her for breaking it. "Did you see that? Did you see how easy it was for me to grab your effin' hair and use it against you?" Teacup nods. Something shines in her eyes. Regret, maybe. Burning pride could also be it. "So why is it still down, private?!"
Her hair is pulled back with a thin black buckle a minute later. Reznik doesn't move from his spot until it's tight against her head and even when it looks like her face is being stretched back, he says it's not tight enough. Splits her hair in two, pulls. Hard. Teacup's eyes sparkle with tears. Reznik steps back. "Better."
She's the toughest seven-year-old I've ever seen.
He's in front of me, now. His eyes fall down to the boots I worked hard on last night and I briefly wonder if he gave me the shittiest boots because he wanted something to yell at me for when he had the chance, and I have to swallow my pride when he sees the shine. Ha! Take that.
It was a small victory and the feeling of accomplishment is whisked away as he finds something much smaller to punish me for.
"You tired, Ghost?" His face is inches from mine. Spit flies out of his mouth. Lands on my cheek. I resist the urge to gag. "The fun hasn't even started yet! Are you that weak?"
"Sir, the private is not weak, sir!" Is my response. It irritates me that he would even say that.
"Prove it," he sneers. "Get down on the floor."
I do as he says. I point my toes and rest the weight of my body on my knuckles, as he instructs. I can feel my arms already struggle to hold myself up. I am strong, sure, but I spent more than a week doing nothing in the Convalescent Wing and it has taken it's toll.
He instructs me to do twenty knuckle push-ups. Part of me wants to stand up and throat punch him for making me do this because I apparently looked tired, but I know listening would end better. If I respond, he might make me do more.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
My eyes fall shut. I let out a shuddering breath. Knuckle push-ups are killers.
Six. Seven. Eight.
Reznik presses his boot against my back and I grit my teeth. I continue with the added weight.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
He presses down harder. I can feel the skin of my knuckles scraping against the cool concrete. Heavy breathing. Reznik leans down, voice low and full of authority. "Come on, Ghost. You survived for six months in the wilderness, all alone." He lets out a bitter chuckle and I want to punch him. "You killed three guys before the first one hit the ground."
