The headphones are removed first, but the droning noise sticks with me. People on either side try to talk to me, but the words are drowned out by the droning—that goddamn droning that's been going on since he left me down here. Next off is the blindfold. It takes me a good long minute to adjust from the darkness, and still can't focus as Jenna and Thomas's mother try to talk to me. Somehow, between my dizzying vision and slowly-returning hearing, I can partially make out what they're trying to say.

Jenna takes out the gag, finally giving me a chance to close my mouth and rest my jaw, then carefully holds me up from the front as my left arm is released from above me. She guides me carefully down until I'm resting on my knees and leaning against her. As Thomas's mother examines my limp wrist, Jenna whispers calming words to me.

Tears of pain trickle in her hair as I hold her close. After being prodded and observed, my wrist is placed into an ill-fitting brace.

"He's stable enough. Let's move him over to the bed."

They drag me over carefully, but I can't help them much. I still have one good foot, but everything is too exhausted and sore to be useful.

"And down... Easy, easy."

As my chest touches the bedding, the pent up stress in my limbs dissipates. I readily give in to the softness, trying to forget my pains.

A warm liquid suddenly runs down my shoulder, stinging the exposed flesh of Thomas's bite mark. Before I get the chance to jerk away, Jenna leans over and holds me still by my shoulder blade.

"Shh, shh, calm down, it's just soapy water. We have to clean it, okay? We don't want it to get infected."

With my one good hand, I clench the bedding at my side. I understand it has to be done, but fuck!

She finishes quickly after seeing my discomfort, then helps me lift my upper body so her mother can put a dressing over it. After they let me lie back down, I can feel their stares on my back and preemptively regret what's going to have to happen next.

"We're going to be super careful, but it might hurt, okay?"

I nod as best as I can while digging my head into the mattress. What I wouldn't give to be out of it for this. Or for any of what's happened.

Both take their time treating me gently and I return the favor by resisting my urge to squirm away. After several burning minutes, they've cleaned them all and rinsed my back over to rid of any extra soap suds. Before I can ask what's next, Jenna holds my shoulders down again as her mother takes a needle to my skin. I jerk, against my better judgment, but Jenna holds on tight.

"Stop moving! You're gonna make it worse. They'll heal better if you get stitches."

A groan escapes my lips into the bedding as I try to give an apology.

With each tug of the thread, I relive every single strike. Even so, they get through the whole ordeal without a further breakdown.

After it's all settled, they again make me sit up, this time having me hold my arms away from my body enough to wrap my back and chest with roller gauze.

"How does it feel?"

I try to move, but it holds me tight. "I can't really move..."

"That's fine. It's a strange feeling at first, I know, but you'll get used to it. Sit back, and we'll look at your ankle."

They lean me against the wall and wrap the sprain tight. As they place ice over it, I realize only one thing left hasn't been taken care of.

"Please, just take me to a hospital..."

"Nonsense," Thomas's mother scoffs as she removes the temporary brace. "It's nothing more than a closed fracture. I've wrapped worse."

"You can't possibly know that. I need to see a doctor. If it's broken, it needs to be re-set, and you can't tell that without an x-ray."

"This isn't my first time healing one of Thomas's fractures, sweetie. I know what I'm doing."

There's no way I trust her, but I have no other choice. Either I let her try to help or I leave it the way it is and let it get worse. She takes my arm into her hands and looks it over, feeling around and noting when I express pain. After some observation, she gives a description to Jenna who brings back a splint. When they fit it around my arm, I immediately feel a more stable presence than their first brace.

"You're going to have to wear this until the swelling goes down, okay? After that, we can get it into a more permanent cast."

I nod. Everything feels tight. My muscles twitch and jerk, aching for any sort of free movement.

"Is there anything you need?" Jenna asks.

"Please," I beg. "I'm in a lot of pain..."

"I'll grab something for you, okay? Hey Mom, we still keep the painkillers on the top shelf, right?"

"Of course, sweetie. Would you be a dear and bring him a glass of water and a handful of dry cereal, please? He needs to eat."

"I'm really not hungry," I tell her, but she doesn't listen and Jenna is already gone.

"That's just your nerves, hun. Your body needs food to help you heal up."

As soon as the painkillers enter my system, I'm out of it. I feel time slowly pass by, marked mainly by regular small meals and water brought by Jenna, or short visits from Thomas as he tries to test my limits now that I'm in this current state.

The drowsiness doesn't go away, but Thomas's patience does. Within a couple of days, he already has me back upstairs with his family, taking on everything he made me do before, plus more. Everything takes longer and ends up half quality. No matter what I do and how hard I work, I can't escape his punishments.

Jenna helps me when she can. She washes the dishes and I dry and put them away. Thomas willingly lets her help there because I can't get my cast wet. Everything else she does is against his wishes. Cooking, cleaning, and folding laundry are all things he believes I can do myself. I beg her not to, but even Thomas's threats can't stop her.

She's so kind to me, even though she has no reason to be. She doesn't know me. There's nothing for her to gain here, only lose. When he asks me if she's been giving me help, I wish I could lie.

But...

Like, okay, you have to understand. I'm just...tired.

I can't.

I'm done.

There's nothing left for me to do. I barely have enough energy to wake up again each morning. There's nothing left in my reserves to fight back.

I sit, stay silent, avert my eyes, and obey. Anything more, I don't know how long I could function.

So when Thomas asks for the truth, I sit, avert, and obey. The sounds of her punishment through the floor bring with them the feeling of guilt, yet I fall asleep with ease. I can't let myself believe that I'm becoming like them—selfish, self-centered. Every time Jenna offers her help, she reminds me to hold on to what's left of my empathy.

My days blur together.

The same people, the same chores, the same rules.

When there's a knock at the front door, it barely registers in my mind.

"Hey~ Thomas! It's been a while!"

That voice...?

The footsteps...

By the time my curiosity hits me with the urge to steal a glance, Thomas is kneeling next to me, lifting my chin with his thumb and forefinger.

"Don't be rude~ Aren't you going to say 'hello' to our guest?"

It takes me a moment to process the man in front of me. Without his official jacket, I might not normally give him a second glance.

I hold back the pleas in my throat. This isn't right. "You... You were... You came to my house with Turner, right?"

"Oh, please," Officer John smirks, "I'm not just his accessory, kid."

A plainclothes cop with no backup, welcomed and treated as a guest in Thomas's home. He's not here for me.

"Yeah, of course, I just—"

My neck tenses, despite my better knowledge, as Thomas uses his heel to kick my head to the floor. He doesn't hold it down this time. He doesn't have to. I just know better by now.

"Raiden~" he coos.

He pauses, waiting for a response, so I nod once against the floor.

"Raiden, when I ask you to greet a guest, I expect you to do so. Don't think that having a visitor is an excuse for you to break the rules. Head up. Tell me, do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand." My eyes stay downcast, focusing on Officer John's shoes to hold them in place. Can't look further up, I remind myself.

"Good. Apologize and try again."

"I apologize, sir. It wasn't my intention to be so rude to you. I hope you enjoy your visit, and please tell me if I can be of assistance." Five in, five out. Repeat. I can feel his eyes over me, but I try to pretend I don't as I count my breaths.

After an insufferable amount of silence, he addresses Thomas. "How long have you had him? The full two weeks?"

"Yep. Had him since the day he tried to escape."

"You've done a fine job with what little time you've had. I can tell that Adam will be very impressed with your progress."

"Psh, well duh." His fingers find my head and tangle through my hair. "Yuh know, I told him from early on to take my advice in handling him, but he just wouldn't listen!"

"Oh, of course. He's a stubborn guy. I wouldn't expect anything less."

They talk as if I'm not here. Part of me finds it degrading, yet the other part finds it a relief. At least they aren't focused on me. I stay as still and as quiet as I can as they move their conversation to the table, hoping that they'll keep ignoring me. It works for a while, but Thomas eventually demands I make new coffee. Once they're both served, he brings me down to my knees beside his seat so he can casually pull at my hair as they continue.

I try to calm my racing heart, but the more I focus, the worse I feel. With my mind occupied though, I can't focus on what either of them are saying and am therefore removing the possibility of a punishment for eavesdropping.

After what feels like all too soon, their topic switches back to me. Something mischievous lurks in John's eyes, making me wish that Thomas would save me from him. But, well, of course he wouldn't; he's having too much fun just standing back and observing.

With Thomas's permission, John takes a crack at me himself.

"Do you know how much I've heard about you these past couple months?"

"Please," I whisper, "help me..."

He squints at me, the hint of a laugh on his tongue. "Why would I do that?"

All I can form is, "I... You... I just... please!" with increasing desperation.

"No, no, no. You have made my job a living hell. You do not deserve anything from me. Being a cop is supposed to be cool, ya know? If you would just keep the fuck in your lane, I wouldn't be stuck covering for you and Adam every day!" He pauses to close his eyes. With a deep, deliberate breath, his face smooths out along with his temper. "Calm down, man," he says to...himself? "New cases soon."

Out of nowhere, his leg bashes into the side of my head, knocking me fully to the ground. I stay, warily.

"At least we're finally gonna stop patrolling your neighborhood. Maybe we'll find a drug case next, something fun, something new."

I realize he's not talking to me, more just talking at me while he absentmindedly beats the shit out of me. Every past injury feels on fire, but I keep coming back internally to the fact that they're really putting my rescue on the back burner.

They can't just stop looking for me! Please, they can't be that good at hiding me in plain sight. Turner knows where I'm being held, they've been inside while I've screamed and cried for help. But... without proof, there's nothing they can do. But that's shit! They can't just let me go...

Eventually my body just stops. It finally hit the breaking point between the pressure of both the physical and mental beating I've taken. I close my eyes and let my body go limp, a few silent tears making their way past the numbness.

I vaguely feel John holding my head down, but barely even feel a pinch as Thomas gives me the sedative.

"Lucky day," Thomas's wavy, disembodied voice tells me. "It's time to take you back to Adam."

Tears come through stronger, the last sensation I feel as I drift off.