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After the next two meals, Thomas made me wash all the dishes, never to his liking. Each time was like the first, only the length of time he made me hold the quarter against the wall increased.

If anything, it got through my head not to talk back to him. I'd learned my lesson the first time. As long as I keep my mouth shut and do as he says, I won't get hurt like that again.

That night, he allowed me to sleep on Jenna's bed instead of making me sleep on the concrete, but that doesn't mean I slept any better.

I woke up that morning in a cold sweat after a nightmare. As I laid there waiting for morning to come, I wanted desperately to be back home again.

The breakfast dishes the next morning were deemed unclean again, so he pulled me back to the wall, telling me my time had reached an hour.

That was nearly an hour ago. I can hear the TV behind me, and it's the only way I can tell time. Roughly two episodes of a show I've never heard before have passed, and my muscles are aching desperately to be released from this position.

Jenna enters the room, humming slightly. Once she's close enough she stops humming, though I can still sense her behind me.

"Can Raiden come upstairs with me?"

Thomas tightens his grip on my hair, but I stay still. "He's not finished with his punishment."

"When he's done, can he?"

My hair is released as Jenna takes a seat next to him on the couch. "Hey, Boy. Answer me. You're gay, right? Like, only attracted to men?"

I clear my throat, unused for the past 24 hours. "Yes."

"Good." He places his hand under my chin with a command to lean back. The quarter drops into his hand and he sets it back into his pocket. "Follow Jenna upstairs and do whatever she says. Treat her right or I won't be responsible if I have to send you back in more than one piece. Understand?"

"Yes," I promise, shaking my head in reassurance.

"You have my permission to look at her and to talk to her. You can both go."

Jenna leans over and kisses him with a quick thanks before grabbing one of my arms and pulling me along with her. She guides me up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms.

When she lets go, I take the chance to walk around and look over everything. "Whose room is this?"

"Thomas's and mine."

"You don't stay in that place behind the fake pantry wall?"

"Oh, no," she laughs. "Not anymore. I did when I first came here, but I've been staying with Thomas for a while."

"He trusts you?" At the edge of the bed, I sit on the smoothed out comforter, watching as Jenna looks over herself on the mirror above the dresser.

We make eye contact through it. She tips her head to the side, confused. "Of course. Why wouldn't he?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "It's just kind of strange to me."

"It's strange to sleep in the same bed as your fiancé?"

"You're marrying him? Why? He kidnapped you."

"I love him and I'm here of my own free will." She turns away from her reflection, leaning against the dresser and crossing her arms. "Do you want to hang out or not? I thought you'd like some company after being so alone, but if you're going to be a jerk, then I won't bother."

God, I can't piss off the one person left I can actually sympathize with. They've done something to her, but that doesn't mean she's completely out of her mind like the rest. If I'm ever getting out, I may one day need her on my side.

"No, please, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be rude. Please forgive me?"

She cracks a smile and gives me a nod. "Yeah, sure. I know it must be tough for you to be away from your boyfriend without knowing when you'll be able to go back. Feeling homesick?"

Actively, I choose to ignore that she used the word 'boyfriend' and nod. "Yeah, kinda."

"I'm sorry... That must feel awful. Do you want a hug?" She doesn't wait for an answer before plopping down on the bed beside me and wrapping her arms around me. "I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better..."

I reluctantly accept her hug, leaning my head over her shoulder. "I mean... Could you let me out? Like, just get me out of the house. I can find my way from there."

She releases me with a giggle, but doesn't appear to be upset. "No, silly. We would both get in so much trouble. And I don't like getting in trouble."

Her face goes dark and serious as her voice softens. She leans in, shooting daggers with her gaze, and mumbles, "Just give in, Raiden. Please. For your own sake. No one out there is coming for you and you can't escape. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can be happy again. Okay?"

"I... I..." The words catch in my throat. Give in? She's crazy—she just has to be! I can't give in. This isn't my life. I didn't ask for it and I don't want it now. It's not for me. Screw her if this is what she wants, but I can't give in like that. I can't. "I can't."

"You've been so strong all this time, Raiden. You've fought hard, but this isn't something you're going to win. It's time to accept it. Once you do, you'll be so much happier with yourself and with Adam. I promise." With a cold smile and laugh, she stands up, bringing a halt to our conversation.

There are a couple board games on the floor, so I take the awkward silence as a chance to move again. I kneel in front of the pile and take in the games. Life, Sorry, and Battleship are the only ones I know the rules to, plus there are a couple decks of cards we could do something with.

"Want to play something?" I ask her, pretending the last two minutes hadn't happened.

With a forced smile, she plays along. "Sure."

Battleship has the least amount of parts to sort and set up, so that's what I choose. It won't take a lot of brainpower either, so I can zone out if I need to. I bring Jenna the box and join her on the bed, both of us awkwardly sitting cross-legged with no back support.

My usual strategy is to place a ship near each corner and one in the center. There isn't much reason to deviate now. Everything had been so new and uncomfortable. Honestly, anything familiar at this point is comforting.

After setting up my ships, I tell her she can go first. It takes a moment for her to finish making up her mind on her own ship positions first.

"Umm... C5?"

"Miss." We both mark it on our boards before I take my turn. "F8?"

"Miss."

The board fills up with white and red pegs quickly before we're nearly finished.

Jenna snickers, not bothering to look up from her board. "A9."

"You sunk my battleship. That's the last one."

With a victorious laugh, she goes to clear her board, but not before I can turn it to see where hers had been.

"Fuck," I groan. "How did my guesses go around your ships? What the hell is this?"

"I don't know. Bad luck, I guess."

"Yeah, I've been getting a lot of that recently, I suppose."

A hand grabs the back of my neck, freezing me in place. Just more bad luck.

"I don't appreciate you cussing in front of my girl. I thought you were starting to get along, too."

My mind immediately snaps back into survival mode. "I apologize! I promise I know better! Please!"

He pulls me back until my legs slip off the edge of the bed. The floor is closer than I expected and I don't have enough time to catch myself before my ankles and tailbone thump painfully against it. Just as the tingling in my legs starts to let up, he pulls me to my feet.

"You do know better. I expected more from you." He lets go of my neck in favor of my upper arm. With a tight grip, he yanks me out of the room and into the hall.

"Please, I'm so sorry!"

"Good."

Begging won't work. Well, it at least won't work with Thomas. Adam is much easier to manipulate because he genuinely cares about me. Of course, it still doesn't work every time, but at least there's at least a chance of getting out.

He leads me into the bathroom, pushing me against the counter and pulling me up by my legs to sit on it. Once he's sure I won't move, he kneels below the sink and pulls out a new bar of soap.

Dread fills my chest as he unboxes it and lathers it up. God, this is not what I need right now. I'd run, but there's nowhere to go. Even if there was, I wouldn't be able to outrun him. That would only lead to more pain on my end.

The water shuts off. My eyes snap to the wet bar in his hand as I choke back a sob. "Please, don't... I'm sorry... It won't happen again, I swear..."

"It won't happen again. If it does, you'll get the same thing. Open your mouth."

I jerk my head to the side as he reaches for me, humming my disapproval and locking my jaw. If he wants to shove that down my throat, he's going to have to fight me to do it.

With his free hand, he digs his fingers in between my upper and lower jaw bones. Despite the pain, I hold it closed and focus my attention elsewhere.

After an uncomfortable couple of seconds, he lets go with a groan and a scowl. "Open your mouth. I won't ask you again."

I keep resisting.

His hand reaches up to my face. I flinch at first, then realize he's not trying to hit me. With three of his fingers, he nudges my head forward until he can see my eyes again.

"Don't test me. You aren't leaving this room until you finish your punishment. Lunch is in a couple hours, and you can get the taste out then. If you don't comply, you don't get lunch and will have to wait until dinner. Don't make this harder on yourself."

I mean... should I? Isn't this comparable to what I've learned with Adam? No matter what I do, whether I resist it or give in, there's no avoiding the inevitable. But if I cooperate...

Is this okay?

This seems like such an easy choice, but... why does it feel so wrong? It's the better option, right? Why make it harder on myself?

Swallowing my pride, I begrudgingly slacken my jaw just enough so he's able to pry my mouth open and shove the soap into it.

I gag as soon as it hits my tongue, but Thomas shoves my jaw back up into it before my body tries to compulsively expel it. The bar scrapes against my teeth, leaving small chunks spread across them.

Thomas places his fingers under my jaw, gently holding it as he looks down on me. "When I let go, you're going to keep it in your mouth until I say."

I nod as much as I can, hearing the commanding tone behind it.

The moment he lets go, my first instinct is to rid myself of the disgusting intrusion of my taste buds, but second thoughts help me keep my word. He paces the bathroom floor as I count out the time in my head to distract myself.

164... 165... 166...

"Drop it in the sink."

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I lean over just enough, spitting it out as fast as I can. The movement makes me gag and I can't help but spit out the saliva collected in the back of my throat. There's no way I can swallow that.

"There we go, you absolutely pathetic excuse of a human." He punctuates his sentence with a swift punch into my stomach, adding on to the rising wave of nausea.

I half fall, half pull myself off the sink counter in my rush to the toilet, barely able to reach it before the contents of my stomach decide to expel themselves.

Over my back, Thomas leans in to grab a fistful of my hair. "You sick fuck," he snarls. "Learn your place in this world, bitch."

He smashes the lid down on my head, but I can't lift it off. My hands have a tight death-grip on the edge of the bowl as I heave and choke.

Why do I put up with this? Is this what being compliant is going to bring me? Nothing but pain and humiliation? Screw that. If he or anyone else wants to put me through shit, they're going to have to fight me to do it.

I'm done sitting back and taking it.

This is where I start to fight back.