His face connected hard with the warm ground, gravel and dust filling his nose and scratching his face. He heard laughter and doors slamming, before the sound of a car driving away in the opposite way it came. He still hadn't opened his eyes, but he knew it was night time from the smell in the air and buzzing of crickets. He lay there rumpled like a ragdoll, completely limp by the side of a road that he knew people hardly ever drove down. Every inch of him ached, his clothes wet with cold sweat. After what felt like hours, he lifted his head and pushing up into his elbows with a small groan. Instantly, sharp pain shot up through his body, causing him to whimper and tears threatened to fall down his already tear streaked face. His throat ached from the sound, fried from overuse and dehydration. He tried to push himself up again, crying out in pain. He felt dirty, abandoned, too full.

He heard the distant rumblings of a vehicle approaching, and he lifted his head to watch Kimbe's ute come closer, attempting to regulate his breathing. The one working headlight caused him to blanche, temporarily blinding him after who knows how long in total darkness. It stopped near him, sputtering.

"Elder Price!" yelped Kimbe, instantly opening the door and dropping beside him. "Oh thank God I found you boy. Are you alright?"

He wanted to say yes, he's fine, so he can get in her car without any more fuss. Now that someone is here, he suddenly doesn't want anyone to see him like this, tossed by the side of the road, more dirty and used than he's been his whole life. Instead, what comes out is a dry, choked sob.

"Oh Elder Price." she whimpers. She reaches out to touch his shaking shoulders, but a burst of adrenaline suddenly overcomes him and he pulls away from her.

"Don't touch me!"

She looked at him in a strange way that he's never seen directed at him before. Not at him, Kevin Price, Mormon poster boy. That was a face he'd only seen on the news, or current affairs programs, when they covered the sad stories that he generally didn't like to hear. He loathed that look on Kimbe's face.

"We need to get back to Kitguli." she started slowly, standing up and opening the ute door. "We need to leave now."

"I... I can't stand up." his voice was so quiet, so weak, so unlike him.

She had that look on her face again, and he absolutely hated it. She knelt down in front of him, close to his face.

"I'm going to help you up, okay?" She spoke slowly and gently. He nodded, the movement only making his head ache even more.

She put her sturdy hands under his arms, and braced her legs. "Hold onto me." He gripped her thick, strong upper arms, and the difference between them caused him to stare. Her skin was very dark, so there'd always been a stark contrast, but now it was even more pronounced. His skin was sickly pale, his knuckles white as his hands shook. "We're gonna stand up now, 'kay?" He nodded again, sending another wave of nausea through his body. She began to move up, lifting him with her. It hurt so much to move.

She stopped for him to get his feet under him, and as soon as he moved his leg he was yelping with pain, his arms shaking. He felt stabbing pains behind his stomach, like he was being torn from the inside. God, he was so weak.

"You can do it Elder." whispered Kimbe in his ear. "Keep going."

He wanted to yell at her that he couldn't, that this was unbearable, but instead he jerked his leg under him so his foot was standing on the ground. And he did it again, so they were both squatting there, arms outstretched, Kimbe being the only thing stopping him from toppling over.

"We're gonna stand up now."

It was slow, and agonsing, straightening their legs. He was far too weak to hold his weight going up, he was leaning entirely on Kimbe's strong arms. It felt like hours until they were both standing, him slouching over her at least a head taller. His usually immaculate hair was hanging in front of his face, only another reminder of how utterly unpresentable he was.

Still holding him up, she moved beside him so her arm supported his back from behind. They walked to the left side of her ute, and he was mortified to find he couldn't help but walk with a limp. He sat down on the passenger seat with a yelp, another jolt of fiery hot pain shooting through his body. He didn't even look to see if there were seatbelts installed this time, he braced his hands on the dashboard as he perched on the edge of the seat. He stayed that way, even when Kimbe started the car and started driving in the direction of the village. Every rock and bump made him flinch and screw up his eyes in pain.

After a long time, Kimbe spoke. "What the fuck were you doing there Elder Price?"

Well, if that didn't sum up his exact thoughts. What the fuck was he doing there? What did he think he would have achieved? Hearing himself swear in his head didn't feel as scandalous as it should have.

"I was stupid." his shoulders shook as he began to cry, again. Surely there'd be no more tears left by now, he'd cried for hours and was severely dehydrated. There shouldn't be a drop of liquid left in his body. "God, I was so fucking stupid!"

He could feel Kimbe's wide eyes on him, knowing that him and the other missionaries were all but infamous for their refusal to swear. And yet here he was, after only two days in Uganda, breaking more rules than he ever had in his life.

"I was so fucking stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he yelled, hitting his forehead with repeated word. His crying morphed into heaving, ugly sobs, coating his back in another layer of cold sweat.

He refused to look at Kimbe's face, her voice quiet and alarmed. "What did you do?"

He struggled to breathe between his sobs, gasping for air. "How fucking full of myself must I be to think I could change him?" his hands clenched into fists. "I-I just wanted to do something, anything, to make a difference, to be useful, to be better than Cunningham, I don't know. I thought maybe if the General wasn't a problem, then things wouldn't be so, you know." but he wasn't thinking of the villagers, he only thought of himself, like the fucking self centred arsehole he was.

"Elder Price you didn't." He didn't answer as his head hit the dashboard. The plastic was still slightly warm, even at this hour. "You stupid, stupid boy."

i love book of mormon and i love stories about recovery from trauma so of course i mixed the two

i want to continue this, but like with everything i write, who knows

if anything seems misspelt, its not, its just the english spelling

cheers dudes - lee