It had been three years. Nearly four. All had been spent inside, either physically or emotionally. He walked the the window, knee creaking with the effort. His face was far too young to seem so old, his life too short to be so tragic. It was raining now. He smelled rather than saw the rain, milky eyes staring blankly through the screen. He sighed and sat on his bed. This is what he got in return for his sacrifice. He removed his prosthetic leg and threw it across the room, suddenly angry. He hopped over to retrieve it, though, suddenly knowing a better way to express his anger.
Here's a start for ya