I lay still, not wanting to wake him. Waking him risks pissing him off. And I'm really done with that this time. I even leave his arm around me, despite its heat and sweat rubbing against my skin.

And so we lay there. I try to fall back asleep with him, but the aching in my wrist keeps me up. A couple of hours pass as I watch the sun's light creep up the wall in front of me. It doesn't take long for the aching to become near unbearable.

"Adam?" I use my good hand to pet his arm to wake him up as gently as possible. "Adam? Wake up."

He rouses easily but doesn't move. "Hmm? What do you want, babe? It's still early."

"I-I know, but, umm, it really hurts..."

That gets him up. He's out of bed and stumbling across the room in seconds. "Oh, Rai, I'm so sorry!" He looks everywhere in a rush, before remembering where he set my pills. "Shit, shit, shit..."

My heart sinks at his self-frustration. "Calm down. I'm fine." I don't know why I feel the need to comfort him when I'm the one in pain and it's his fault. It's still hard to remember he's not the same friend he was before.

He ignores my concern as he fumbles with the cap, only paying me any attention when he notices me trying to get off the bed.

"No, stay there! I almost have it, okay?"

"I'm just gonna grab some water."

"I said 'no,' Raiden. I'll get you a bottle myself. I don't want you on your feet for at least a couple of days, okay? I don't want you accidentally hurting yourself any more than you already are."

"It's not even my ankle that hurts that much anymore." I pick up the nearest plastic bottle on the table next to me as I scoot closer to the edge, hoping it's mine. "I'll just refill the one I already have in the bathroom. It's just across-"

There's a tug on my arm and as I look over, Adam is next to me again.

"Adam-"

"No," he pushes. "I want you safe, and I want you to heal. You're going to do as you're told."

Something inside me holds back, leaving him unanswered. He's not asking this time. A look of satisfaction crosses his face at my stunned silence, and I can't find the strength to fight him as he helps me back into bed, tucking my legs in the covers as tight as he can. Part of me wants to think he's making sure I'm comfy, but the rest thinks he just wants me cemented in place.

He stands between the bed and the doorway, admiring his handiwork as he waits for a reaction from me. I find myself still too stunned, and hold the water bottle out to him after a long awkward silence.

He takes it from me with a smug, "Thank you," and hurries to fill and return it to me.

"Thanks," I mumble. I pop the pills in my mouth and follow them quickly with a swig of the lukewarm tap water. It takes a couple swallows for them to finally be coaxed down my throat. Swallowing pills is such a pain for me. It's like there's this part of my brain that says, 'hey, don't swallow that, it's solid' even though the rest of it logically knows I won't choke.

Adam, on the other hand, can swallow his pills dry. His warning system in his brain is stronger than mine, apparently, and will actively swallow everything but the pills. It doesn't matter what he tries to swallow them with. Water, cheese, and I've even seen him try milk before. He just can't.

Instead, he does this really gross thing where he takes the pills in his hand, tips his head back, and puts his fingers as far down his throat as he possibly can before gagging, and then just drops them in. It crept me the fuck out the first time I actually saw him do it in person. I thought he was trying to make himself throw up and ended up yelling at him instead.

I honestly can't believe that even works. How weird is that?

Luckily he doesn't get sick that often, so I don't really see him do it anymore.

I watch him put the rest of the pills away as I continue sipping on the rest of my water.

Now that I'm fully awake and moving, the dull ache in my ankle starts creeping its way back in to add to the medley of pain from my wrist, back, and, well, everywhere else. So when he puts his arms under me to pick me up, I don't resist. I even wrap my arms around his neck and lean my head against his shoulder. The more I can relax, the less everything will hurt until the pain meds kick back in.

We walk slowly. It's a very steady ride through the house and down the stairs, and he's very gentle when he sets me in a chair at the kitchen table.

"Toast?" he asks. "I don't want to upset your stomach and have you lose your breakfast."

I nod, noting the seat he's placed me in is the exact opposite of the one I sat in last time. "Bananas too?"

"Bananas too," he chuckles. I notice him pause when he notices me staring at the door again, but he turns away nonetheless. I don't know if it's because he's deciding that he trusts me, or if it's because he knows I'm not fast enough to go anywhere, especially if the oxy gives me vertigo again. Either way, I don't think I'll be able to escape that way after my last botched attempt.

I don't know what I'm going to do in the meantime, waiting to heal. Hopefully, I can switch to ibuprofen soon so I don't have to deal with these rough side effects and can get back into motion in making a plan of escape.

What else is there to try? The garage is out. He'll be vigilant in making sure I never try that way again. I could try the door with all the locks, but I'll probably have to search for whatever keys go to them, and such a hunt didn't go down well at Thomas's. I made an assumption earlier about all the windows being locked. I only tried a few, so what's to say that, maybe, they forgot one somewhere along the way? Or the backyard! I almost completely forgot about it. It's always been locked up tight before, so I can only imagine it's gotten even more secure. Electronic gates, locks, and pin pads, all of which I'd need to find a way through, and at the same time. If I got through one layer of security but not the rest, they'd surely notice and cut me off.

It's all so fucking exhausting. Part of me is kind of glad that I can't start with any of it until I'm healed. The rest resents itself for even entertaining the thought of staying any longer, willingly.

The rest of me still wants to fight.

It gets me thinking that there could possibly be a way during transportation to get away or at least signal for help, but first I'd have to convince him to let me go outside with him. While also convincing him not to drug me for it.

Adam places a plate in front of me before sitting directly between me and the door. I give him a smile with thanks, then go immediately back to ignoring the door the best I can. I adore the way he slices up the bananas for us. Maybe it's a nostalgia thing, but they always seem to taste better cut up and spread out. The toast is a little on the dry side though, so I try to focus extra hard on that to keep my mind occupied. I don't want to be startled out of a thought I know he doesn't want me to have. It'll make me feel like I've been caught doing something wrong and he'll pick up on it. For pretty much any direction I take the escape plan, I need him to trust me.

I know I keep saying that, but I really do think it's key. I just haven't had the patience to truly see it through. How am I supposed to gain anything real from him if I immediately break his trust the moment I gain it?

It has to be a long con. And I hate admitting that. I've been here for weeks already and I don't want to gain a sense of normalcy from it. The longer I'm away from home, the harder it is to remember what it feels like to be safe in my own bed within my own walls.

But what happens when I get home? Obviously, Adam will go to jail or something. His mom too. What will that be like? I used to always spend half my time away from home here, but there's no way it can go back to being the same as it was.

And school? Adam has always been my only close friend. How am I gonna go back through those halls without him at my side? Even worse, everyone is going to be talking about me, aren't they? They'll talk about it nonstop behind my back. I'll never be able to enter a room without knowing that my trauma is what everyone's whispering about.

Maybe I could convince my parents to let me switch schools. Or, ya know, we might even have to move towns. States. I might have to reroot everything up again. Nothing will be the same as it was.

I shake my head just a bit, as if it were an etch-a-sketch and the simple movement would erase the thoughts and the stress from my head.

Future problems for future Raiden. Well, hopefully.

I try to remember why I'm still fighting.

My name is Raiden Loeffler. I'm sixteen years old. I have two parents who love me very much. Turner is- Well, I guess he isn't searching for me anymore... But that doesn't matter. I will be found. Or, I guess, I should change it to 'I will escape' from now on. I can't exactly be found if no one's looking for me.

Deep breaths.

We finish breakfast quietly. He doesn't try to take my hand, though I see him glancing over at it from time to time. He probably doesn't want to hurt it more.

The dry toast scratching my throat eventually takes over my senses and I need to ask for a drink. I could easily just stand up and do it myself, but I know Adam wouldn't like me trying, so I ask him politely and wait for him to fetch it for me.

He brings over a glass of water and sets it next to my hand with a smile. "Here ya go. Let me know if it's not cold enough, okay? Or if it's too cold."

"No, it's perfect." I steel myself as I reach up and grab the back of his head, then coax it down towards me. He looks confused at first, but gives in, and lights up when I kiss him on his cheek next to the corner of his mouth. I force a smile as I release him. "Thanks for getting it for me."

He's taken aback and pauses before responding. "It's no problem, Rai."

He's on cloud nine as he sits to finish eating.

I sit back, confused.

That didn't feel as bad as I thought it would.