Nequam whimpered fearfully- as he should- while he lay deathly still on the cold metal table. His lips were blue and he was cold to the bone. He chuckled while he watched the boy shiver and cackled when he remembered why he had named the worthless boy 'Nequam'. Though a few names had suited him well, he stuck with 'Nequam' as in his earnest opinion, the boy was the epitome of the name that he had chosen for him.

Furthermore, he had another ulterior motive for addressing the valueless boy as 'Nequam'. His motive? To see if it would cause him to lose his memory of his former fatuous name. Smirking, he thought, your mother couldn't even name you properly! What a horrendous name you were given. You should be kissing my feet for the fantastic name I've bequeathed on to you.

He paced around the metal table and stroked the boy's hair and a sense of jubilation aroused in him when the boy tried futilely to back away from his touch.

He grinned when he noted that the red welts he had inflicted on his delicate skin had completely vanished and that the boy was as pale as a mannequin. His scars and injuries were gone, though not because he had been benevolent and healed him; it was because Nequam's blood circulation was nearly cut off. He had ensured that his hands and feet were so tightly wound that it would be impossible for him to remove.

In some ways, it was a tremendous pity that he had decided to prevent Nequam's blood from circulating. He had thoroughly sated his bloodlust by practicing his knife work on Nequam's body. He had whipped him, slashed him- whatever you can think of, he had already done it all. There was just something majestic about the sight of crimson red blood gushing out that ignited a sense of wonder in him. What I wouldn't give to do it all over again.

What he had done to him was art.

The blood would gush out like the formerly renowned Niagara Falls, except that instead of the Falls' hideous crystal clear water, it was a steady stream of glorious crimson red blood.

He was not a history lover but had always appreciated nature's beauty and was heartbroken when a deadly, powerful earthquake in 2066 split open the falls, causing a massive tsunami and wrecking everything in its path.

But it was okay, for he had his own personal Falls beat the original one. It was a pity that the poor blood circulation had reduced his Falls to a gradually dripping one. Then again, since when have all good things lasted?

Nevertheless, he knew that Nequam would likely finally succumb to his paradise and he couldn't let that happen.

My Nequam can't die! I made this glorious boy, and rescued him from his sorry excuse of a family. He should repay me! Distressed, he threw the scalpel and knives on to the floor, smashing whatever glass item was nearby.

His anger ebbing, his trademark leer resurfaced when he realised that the boy could serve him in other means. He can even be used as collateral and earn me loads of bloods too! Indeed, the boy really was the best thing that ever happened to him- Nequam always brought him a great deal of merriment. The rush of excitement he got whenever the boy tried to hold on to his will and determination when he tried to break him was never-ending.

Nequam was perfect. If he knew that his search to find someone who he could completely dominate over would bring him Nequam, he would have started earlier. He was impressed him by how Neuqam had somehow managed not to succumb to his merciless torture. Well, psychologically at least. But that was soon about to change.

"Nequam, know what I found recently? Picture the person you yearn to see most." He waited for a few beats before continuing, "That's right! I found the one you've been trying to find. I don't mind hurting them and you definitely know that I seize any chance I get to torture." He snarled while he brandished his knife menacingly.

Nequam shook his head weakly, his eyes were full of dread and loathing.

"Now, you don't want them to meet me, do you? My weapons will ravish them when I do." he chuckled cruelly as tears trickled down Nequam's chin. "Join me. If you do, they will be unharmed and never meet me."

To his amazement and delight, Nequam shook his head fiercely while he strugged against the chains. "Very well," he declared and headed out, ignoring the scuffling sounds of his movements. Nequam could never escape after all. He'll die trying if he attempts to.

Her heart was light as a feather as she had an amazing day. Her attempts at finding a cure for her mother's illness, her time spent on experimenting on poisons elicited a felicity that she seldom felt. The skills she was learning here were definitely beneficial, and Alara's heart swelled with gratitude for whoever let her in here.

Even though she had boxed with Gabriel and tired herself out, she was reluctant to sleep tonight.

She was now into her fifth month here, and though she seemed to be adjusted to the Agency, Alara was secretly homesick and had a fervent desire to see her mother again. The thought of her ailing mother, home alone, was enough to make her heart sink.

However, since she only had six months' worth of leave in three years' time, she was reluctant to squander it all at once.

Sometimes in her dreams she would revisit her childhood and of the times of her playing with Ren. Other times, nightmares would make their presence known and she'll see her family dying in front of her.

When the sun gradually vanished into the darkness, her old, unwelcome enemy visited her again. As usual, whenever it appeared, her divine memories were plagued with beastly visions that emanated heartbreak and suffering.

His little freckles dotting his sallow cheeks. His brown eyes filled with love and joy. His giant grin that hinted he was going to cause some mischief and was about to drive their Mama mental. His sweet voice singing, "I love you, Laraaa! I love you, I love you, I love love you!"

His little freckles that once dotted his sallow cheeks were now covered in bruises and smeared in crimson blood. His brown eyes filled with hurt caused by betrayal and despair. His giant grin was gone, and in its place was a lour. His voice bitter and cold as he ranted, "I hate you, Lara! I hate you, I hate you, "

She awoke with a piercing scream and frightened gasp. She felt waves of excruciating desolation ride over her again and again. Renald, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry...

Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead while tears streamed down the curve of her cheek. Hugging herself tightly, she rubbed her shoulders in an effort to soothe and comfort herself. For a moment, it was beginning to work, but the moment her hands felt something obscenely soft, Alara flinched and threw her blanket away onto the floor.

Who am I to enjoy the good things in life? Who am I to enjoy such finery when all my family knows of are rough sheets filled with grime?

So Alara retreated to the cold tile of the floor, weeping tearfully while she cowered there. She hoped fervently for her brother to despise her, for her mother to not regret having borne her. She would have prayed, but since God had never answered her pleas, she found no use in it, and thus she hoped instead.

Outside, the gleaming moon hung in the caliginous sky, lucent in the background. The mourning girl had forgotten to fully draw her curtains thus unapologetic rays of light entered her room through the gaps in between them.

The girl felt awfully aloof, yet despite her current state of despair, a flare of hope burned bright in her. I must not succumb to darkness's alluring embrace. I must not choose to seek revenge. I must not lose myself in the darkness.

Thinking of nothing but her beloved brother and mother, Alara believed that as long as she still had faith in hope, she could overcome all of the hurdles thrown in her path and thrive.

While he was not a typically observant man, Maren Santos was confident that even a blind man could notice his usually feisty partner's peculiar behaviour. His partner, Alara Berrera, was behaving most oddly.

Just now, he had landed a hard punch to her solar plexus, causing her to stumble and fall. Her fall made him become taken aback as usually if he dared to pull such a move, she would have flashed him with a winning smile, striking blow after blow on his chest after she did so.

But today was no normal day.

I can't believe I am actually missing the days where she used to kick my arse. I'd welcome the agony it brings me if only she can insult me or beat me up again.

Her lack of attacks and blows and light punches terrified him more than the times where he angered her. Her quiet and severe attitude today was baffling and chilling. It was as if she had lost all of her remaining strength in just the previous day. What could have caused this? This isn't the Alara I know.

Trying to provoke her in the hopes that she will return to her usual tempered self, he mustered up the courage and pulled her hair- something that she absolutely detested. Once, he had pulled her hair as a joke but nearly ended up losing his precious family jewels as a consequence.

Yet even that didn't work. All he got was a ferocious glare for her, and his private part was still miraculously intact.

"Alara, what's with you? Seriously. I pull your hair and all you do is glare at me? The last time I did that, I nearly lost my vital organs." Maren stated cautiously, his tone one of concern.

"Maren, I'm just tired, okay? Just leave me alone." Alara left in a hissy fit, slamming the door as she did so, clearly enraged.

The door was slammed so hard that the harsh sound echoed throughout the Athlete's Corner. Something's going on, and I intend to find out what's going on with her. He walked towards the door, wincing when he realised that a small portion of the wood had cracked due to the sheer impact of the slam. Perhaps I should try and cheer her up and get her out of her foul mood. But how?

After brainstorming and wrecking his brains for a short while, Maren grinned when he came up with the perfect idea. I'm a genius!

It gleamed radiantly, and the once dirty pearl was now practically sparkling. As Maren held it under the light of the lamp, the pearl gleamed and flaunted its smooth edges. Though it was not a sizable pearl and unlikely to warrant any bloods, it was obviously of peerless quality and probably cost at least six scabs- a hefty sum for a citizen who lived in the rural part of Excidium.

He wasn't sure how it had come into Alara's possession, but he wouldn't be surprised if it came from someone that was very close or important to her. Perhaps that was why he typically felt guilty whenever he saw the murky hairpin by his bedside drawer, which he safely kept ever since his first fight with Alara.

He supposed it would be a great time to return the pearl back to its rightful owner, and who knows, her mood may improve drastically.

Feeling as nervous as a thief that had just been caught stealing, he walked towards her bedroom with timid steps.

"Did you quarrel with Maren? You look so glum," Keyla's eyes shone with worry.

Feeling touched by her kind gesture, Alara held Keyla's hand and smiled at her.

After Keyla had found her storming out of the Athlete's Corner, she had persistently chased after her and forced her to talk to her.

"Don't bottle up your feelings! Talk to me." Keyla had begged.

Needing someone to lean on, Alara chose to rant to Keyla. She confided in her regarding her tragic past and confessed how dearly she missed her family. The only thing she kept secret from her was her gruesome nightmares- if she could not even stomach it, how would an outsider react? No, it is best if Keyla remained in the dark about the true extent of how nightmarish they truly are.

If I can't fully protect my family, I will protect her at the very least. If I can't, I'm truly an utter failure.

"Believe it or not, I can relate to you," revealed Keyla solemnly. "My mother passed away when I was but a wee child. My father abandoned me because I was supposedly an exact copy of my mother. I think that's a curse, for he couldn't tolerate the anguish he felt whenever he saw my face. Hence, here I am."

Keyla sighed, her eyes remained open and they were full of hollowness. To a stranger, they would have thought that she was gazing at her clasped hands.

But Alara knew better. She was reminded of the day her father ascended into the fabled dreamlands above the clouds, abandoning her in a godforsaken world. Alara wouldn't be surprised if the young Keyla had trustingly, faithfully waited for her father's return by the door; perhaps little Keyla had sobbed when realisation finally struck her. Did she curse and rant? Did she run to the security officers and report her father missing? Did anyone help her?

Whatever the case, it did not take a blind person to guess what hardships the girl has gone through.

"Keyla Stones. You are only sixteen, and yet you've been through so much. You're so strong, and never blame yourself for your father's leaving. You are so strong. Keyla, I am honoured to call you my friend." Alara embraced her tightly, wiping her tears away.

"Thank you," whispered Keyla, returning Alara's hug.

Warmth filled his heart when even he could feel the sincerity of Alara's words. While his understanding of Keyla grew, his fondness for his partner blossomed.

Alara is such a rarity in this bleak world. A gleaming gem shining iridescently amid the darkness. A treasure hidden so deep, so undiscovered so that it could be cherished by the most deserving of people. Alara... you never fail to amaze me. How is it that someone who has survived through such infernal suffering has such boundless generosity?

No wonder you're so full of tenacity sometimes. You're like an artichoke- except that you have scars and armour instead of petals; thick clothes that wrap around you so tightly to protect that vulnerable heart of yours.

He thumbed the pearl and left silently. He was starting to become disconcerted and unnerved by Alara Berrera. His feelings for her... I will ignore them and suppress them. I can't let the same thing happen again.