Blue Smoke
“He seldom slept properly these days. Or perhaps he did, but just didn’t realise it. Not much at all seemed real any more, so it was quite likely he was asleep when he thought he was awake.
He shifted slightly on his sleeping mat, and felt Tim’s forearm resting across his ribs. Tim’s bones dug into his bones, and it hurt. Everything hurt now — his body, his soul and his mind.
The headaches had not stopped, although they had settled into a pattern he’d learnt to live with, like everything else in... the camp. McCaffrey had died and Major Paterson continued to give him opium whenever it was available, and that helped, although he suspected he had become addicted to it. But what the hell did that matter now? He was already an outcast of sorts, a moving, breathing freak. He knew this because when he looked down at himself, he saw not the body of a man but only sharp, protruding bones and deep hollows where flesh should have been, and the sickly yellow of cracked, ulcerated and sagging skin.MoreLess
He shifted slightly on his sleeping mat, and felt Tim’s forearm resting across his ribs. Tim’s bones dug into his bones, and it hurt. Everything hurt now — his body, his soul and his mind.
The headaches had not stopped, although they had settled into a pattern he’d learnt to live with, like everything else in... the camp. McCaffrey had died and Major Paterson continued to give him opium whenever it was available, and that helped, although he suspected he had become addicted to it. But what the hell did that matter now? He was already an outcast of sorts, a moving, breathing freak. He knew this because when he looked down at himself, he saw not the body of a man but only sharp, protruding bones and deep hollows where flesh should have been, and the sickly yellow of cracked, ulcerated and sagging skin.MoreLess
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