Knowing You.

The First Face

BEN

“Shit.”

Ben woke with a start but couldn’t help to curse under his breath from the soreness on certain parts of his body. The nape of his neck, his lower back, his feet. He forces himself up on one of his elbows, swearing under his breath, and now tries to move his leg.

Yet he is met with another sharp utterance of a curse, “Fu–” He bit back his tongue, sensing the stinging pain starting from his upper right thigh that is now spreading throughout his entire body.

What the hell happened?!

Ben was lost and disoriented. The least he could do was look down to see that his right thigh has a wound on it, but it was all cleaned up. Who cleaned it up?

Suddenly he felt a ray of light flashing straight at his face. His gaze flies upwards and he had to squint his eyes. “What the–” He raises a hand over his eyes to lessen the blinding light on him. That was when he was able to see a woman seated on the ground while holding a flashlight with a careful look on her face.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He heard that woman say to him before he passed out.

He can recall bits and pieces of the events that happened. He was injured in a sudden ambush and was left alone with a bleeding wound.

Well, all alone except one person. The woman before him. The enemy.

And she was adamant about making sure that she could take care of his wound.

“Woman,” he grunts, using her language, “it’s you.”

The woman weirdly makes no comment on the notion that he is knowledgeable of her language. Instead, she gingerly places the flashlight on the ground to spread a bit more light around the dark place. Breathing heavily, he looks around, noting that he is laying on some kind of soil surrounded by makeshift walls. His mind is still all hazy, he still can’t think clearly enough to make sense of everything around him. “Where the hell am I?”

“...An abandoned dugout,” she answers softly. Ben notices how she brings her knees closer to her chest, perhaps as an attempt to shield herself in some way.

He thought that she should be able to protect herself because he felt that he was growing livid. How dare this woman take him to enemy grounds? He should have mustered up all his strength and shot her dead when he had the chance.

“Abandoned dugout, my ass,” he grumbles. Then he hisses, “It is your dugout!” The woman winced at the sudden ferociousness in his voice. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You sneaky woman, I know your squad is coming!”

“My squad is not coming,” she declares sternly. “I’m lost…like you,” she finishes, her voice trailing off.

Stupid comrades. Leaving me behind and thinking that I’m dead. Do I look dead to any of you?! Bastards. Ben sets his lips into a tight line.

“I don’t see any comms on you,” the woman continues in his silence. “You only have a gun…not even a tag around your neck.”

“You made a grave mistake by choosing to help me. Your kind does not care for mine and the feeling is clearly mutual,” he spat out.

She counters softly, “But we’re both human, you and I. Man, woman. Foe, ally. We are still human.”

The man audibly scoffs. What is this? Not a war but a test of congeniality? “Yet you forget that this is war, woman. If you think morality and humanity will get you through it, then you should have never enlisted in the first place. None of those will make your country win.”

“I don’t think it is a matter of losing or winning.”

“What?” He sneered, finding it hard to believe what she just uttered. “War is exactly between winning or losing.” Having had enough of her useless squabbling, his hand flies to his left inner pocket where he keeps a small handheld gun. He hopes to end all this now and he can leave this dugout to find the rest of his squad. Killing one more person would be nothing but a walk in the park for him. He wouldn’t even have to blink an eye as he pulls the trigger and shoot the woman dead. But much to his chagrin, his gun isn’t in there.

“It’s with me,” the woman suddenly utters from across. She dangles the gun he was looking for on one of her fingers as if to mock him.

Ben grit his teeth and, fueled with adrenaline, manages to reach over to his right boot and slip two fingers into it to slide out the small dagger he keeps as an additional weapon for attack. But again, it isn’t also there.

“Also with me,” the woman continues. In her other hand is the dagger he owns.

“Dammit!” He shouts out of rage. He grabs a fistful of soil beneath him and throws it mercilessly right at the woman.

“What the–” With anger, the woman also grabs a fistful of soil and throws it at him.

Ben retaliates in no time. Just as he was about to chuck at her another handful of soil, his leg is hit with another sharp pain and he let out a loud guttural shout in shock and agony. His hands fly to hold his leg, dropping the soil back on the ground in the process.

The woman instantly moves to him and reaches a hand out to check on his wound, but he harshly slaps it away – making a loud sound as an effect. The slap must have hurt but he didn’t care. He hated how this woman was meddling with his life. He did not ask for help and he does not want any now. If it was his fate to die at that ambush, then he should have died. Not be saved by the enemy of all people.

He breathed in and out heavily. The pain has subsided now. All that is left is his feeling of resentment toward the woman who was gazing at him with careful eyes.

“I don’t need your help,” he cruelly murmured under his breath, “I was supposed to die the moment you found me. I don’t need any of your stupid pity.”

“It is not pity–”

“Then what is it?!”

“...Let your wound heal first,” she replies instead, “Then choose to die after.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked this chapter :) We are looking into Ben's perspective.

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